#this one pattern i wanted so bad was such a pain in the ass to find bc its out of print but i finally found an individual seller on amazon

[primal--scream]

So, like, back to S6/7 and a canon divergent AU where...

Buck decides to get a full back piece. Zeus on one side throwing a lightning bolt and Hermes on the other side using his Rod of Asclepius to disrupt the bolt. Its symbolic okay, and maybe Buck feels like Eddie is Hermes in this situation even if he doesn't say that out loud. But when he tentatively shows it to Eddie with his breath held Eddie gets it, thinks its bad ass and volunteers to go with him because its gonna be 10-12 hours and he doesn't want Buck to be bored. And Buck is a little uneasy about that because getting a tattoo for Buck is, well, a full body experience, if you catch my drift. And its not so much that Buck is into pain exactly, but he loves the sting of the needle. He enjoys the soreness that will be left behind for days after whenever he touches it. He loves the ache he'll feel every time he moves and his skin pulls tight. He loves being able to press his fingertips into fresh ink and feel it all the way to his toes. So Eddie goes with, and Buck spends the whole time half hard and thankful that he's lying on his stomach so no one is the wiser. Hours later, when Buck is done and the artist starts talking about the aftercare with Eddie is when it hits Buck that he's going to need someone to wash and moisturize him for the next 10 days because he can't reach all of it, and apparently, Eddie has volunteered himself.

Buck thinks, okay, I can handle this, right? It's just Eddie, just my bestie. He's even patched me up before, no big deal, right? At this point he's touched almost every part of Buck there is to touch, so it should be fine, right? Of course it's going to be just fine and dandy. Buck has never been more wrong in his entire life. So they're in Eddies kitchen three days later and its time to take off the Saniderm. Eddie is very gently running his soapy hands all over Buck's back. It's raising goose bump and Buck's blood pressure right along with them. He is barely refraining from moaning out loud at this point so when Buck shivers Eddie apologizes that the water gets cold so fast and Buck wants to laugh because if only it was that simple. Eddie's fingers press and circle from shoulder to tailbone in a hypnotizing pattern with just enough pressure to make Buck feel every single inch of newly tattooed skin. Its the best torture he's ever endured and if he could just convince his cock to simmer the fuck down he'd be really appreciative. As he's having an internal conversation with said dick, about the fact that he will 100% give it the attention it deserves later if it just behaves now, Eddie moves on to applying the hustle butter at which point Buck's cock has decided all previous negotiations are over, thank you very much, and it wants it's attention now. By the time Eddie is done Buck is hard as fucking steel and nearly panting. While Eddie is at the sink washing his hands Buck tries to make his escape but Eddie reaches out for him and one of his nails accidentally skids over a tender spot low on Buck's back and then Buck does moan, his knees buckle and he has to slap a hand against the counter to keep himself upright. His head hangs between his shoulder blades as he tries to get his dick and breath and his fucking heart rate under control because he's so fucking close to the edge that he nearly bites his lip bloody. But instead of just letting him go, Eddie forces Buck to turn around and the state of his sweats leaves little to the imagination. There's few seconds where they both just stare at each other until a feral grin overtakes Eddie's face, his canines on full display as they sink into his lower lip while his eyes travel down and then back up Buck's body. As his gaze cruises over Buck's very interested cock, Eddie licks his lips and Buck hears himself whimper. Eddie steps closer, his hand snaking around Buck's waist so his blunt nails can scrape ever so lightly over his spine. Buck feels his lashes flutter as he chokes out a stuttering breath, body jerking at the touch. "Me, or the pain?" Eddie asks. "Both." Buck manages to croak out through a too dry throat. They end up on the couch with Buck riding Eddie hard and fast as Eddie carefully digs his fingers into one spot after another until Buck comes all over him.

[5-htagonist]

i am genuinely so crazyyyy about lbruuuuu.... like Genuinely Genuinely. its pretty bad guise

[skywomb]

i love planning new knitting projects i just spent so many hours browsing patterns and looking at different yarns. so fun

[rjkooks]

21:58 — caleb comes home and fucks you in his colonel uniform.

➸ author's note: just a horny drabble i wrote on a whim. he looks so fine in that goddamn uniform it's making me feral :( not proofread btw!

“this what you wanted, baby?”

you’re on all fours, knuckles white as you desperately claw on the sheets, knees digging in the soft mattress as your ass hangs proudly in the air. you feel tears well up in your eyes, feeling them almost roll into your skull from how good caleb was eating you out.

you just know it’s absolutely nasty behind you. he’s slurping your slick like a man severely depraved, and oh — how his tongue slowly spelt each letter of his name over your walls covered in white. he’s diabolic for this. sprawled out bare naked beneath him, and he’s all clad in that damn colonel uniform that he knows has you reeling for him.

the smooth leather of his gloves presses on your clit, his thumb rubbing tight circles on your sensitive nub as he teasingly pushes the tip of his tongue in and out of your gaping hole. you quiver, a downpour of sinister noises resonating around the room. it merely fuels him to drive you mad from his tongue alone.

“c-caleb,” you cry out, your vocabulary dwindling down to one word, and you chant it over and over again in a mantra, the oversensitivity triggering cry after cry as he’s about to pull another orgasm out of you.

how many times has he made you cum already? three? four? or maybe five? you don’t know, you don’t remember, you lost count. hell, you weren’t even counting in the first place. all you know is that you’re about to approach another intense peak.

“cumming again, pips?” he speaks against your sopping folds, the vibrations of his mockery has you arching your back into a deeper curve. he doesn’t even have to ask, he already knows from the way your legs inevitably shake, moans turning up to a higher frequency as your folds clench tighter around his tongue. he wants you to feel him, take everything he has to offer you.

oh, how he wanted to fuck you so bad as if you’ve downgraded into a mere fleshlight, his cock straining tightly against his pants, but nothing is rewarding enough without patience. so, he waits, waits for you to fall apart one more time in his mouth before he can finally fill you up like you’ve always wanted.

“caleb, caleb, p-please…!” you cry out, drooling against the sheets but you pay no mind to the mess you’re making, your thoughts fixated on the way his tongue and thumb drew patterns on your soaking cunt.

back and forth he flicked his tongue against you, leather-clad thumb playing with your clit and snap goes the string in your gut, gushing out like niagra falls and into his awaiting mouth. he laps everything up, lips engulfing your entire pussy as you uncontrollably shake beneath him.

his hands find their place on your hips, keeping you still as he finishes any remains from your high, only pulling away when he knows you rode it out.

“such a good pipsqueak f’me…” he mutters adoringly, loving eyes wandering over your bare body as he finally frees his cock from its restraints, not completely pulling his pants down.

you gasp, feeling the dripping tip tease itself against your folds, and you feel his chest press on your back, lips hovering over the shell of your ear.

“gonna take my cock like a good girl, won’t you, pips? your gege’s gonna make you feel so, so good…” he whispers, voice hot and sensual, aching with need as you finally feel the angry veins of his cock slowly breach your insides.

“ha… ngghh… caleb…” tears form in your eyes again, not from the pain, but rather from how good it felt. everything about caleb feels good, but nothing beats the way his girth perfectly sheathes itself inside you, only to fuck himself in and out of you for hours on end.

he chuckles menacingly from the way your face twists in pleasure, white-knuckled from how tight you were clawing on the sheets as the sound of skin slapping continuously bounced off the walls.

“c-caleb…” you sob, your mind completely gone beyond mush as you can solely focus on the way his cock kept kissing your cervix. “too much..!”

“shhh…” he soothes you, thumbs drawing circles over your skin. “you can take it, yeah? i know you’re a strong pipsqueak,” he whispers against your ear, voice ever-so gentle that it shows a stark contrast between his mean thrusts.

you try running away, the overstimulation overwhelms your senses to the point where you dwindle down into a sobbing and drooling mess.

“oh no, no, no.” if it weren’t for the steel grip he has on your hips, you’re certain your legs would’ve gone out by now. you let out a strangled cry, immobile as his cock kept rearranging your insides.

“just six more minutes, baby,” he murmurs, “six more. so be a good girl, yeah?”

you whine, unable to comprehend his words yet you nodded nonetheless, too cock drunk to care anymore. when he meant six minutes, however, he meant two more hours.

[punkkture]

Haii i love your work!! not many ppl on tumblr use the style you do and i love it smm

How would simon feel about his doll getting sick or having a fever? I jst got over the flu myself lol so and i was thinking abt that like the WHOLEEE time. EEEEK like imagine him coming home from a short deployment only to find the reader sick? If you wanna turn it into smut you can : D

eeek love this idea and you, youre so kind schnookums

going for some sweet and caring simon with this one, hate to say its been a couple days since ive written and I have to warm back up to it. dis lowkey ass

wc: { 986 }

— simon loves pampering you. always has and always will. he's utterly smitten to the idea of having you desperately needing him. his poor dumb baby needed him more than she already normally did and he was in heaven.

it started off with your sniffles. he first noticed when he was braiding your hair after a shower. his thick fingers making even and delicate strands curve around one another.

you were sitting down on the floor, between his legs while he sat on the couch. simon kept hearing you sniffle it all up. the first couple times he didn't think much of it. but by the fourth time, he's tying the elastic band around your hair and speaking up.

"you feelin' stuffy, hun?"

he didn't know what he expected when you shook your head 'no'. you understood what it brought when you were sick. but he wasn't convinced for long.

the rest of the day he's holding tissues to your nose and saying, "blow it out . . . doin' nothing gettin' it stuck all in your head like that."

the next day it didnt get any better, and it was certainly not just a headcold he originally thought it was. you were more sluggish than usual to get out of bed. he felt bad for you, a stuffy nose and bad headache was soon met with a fever.

simon put in work to get you comfy in bed. every time he came back upstairs to take your temp, he had to pull away the many blankets you were trying to burrow yourself into.

"baby c'mon, you gotta break the fever . ." he grumbles while grabbing your water cup to refill. and every time he set a new cold glass down, he marks a little line on it, "drink this much by the end of the hour, mmkay?" gently scratching your scalp with his fingers, "don't want you to get dehydrated."

he was starting to get worried by the evening and nothing seemed to be working, a tummy ache was the last thing you needed with all of this. a pounding head, sweaty skin, stuffy nose, and now nausea lingering around and threatening to really ruin your night.

he kept refilling your water and making sure to keep the damp washcloth cold, pressing it on the back of your neck and the top of your forehead. warm fingers rubbed over your tummy and traced gentle patterns on the flushed skin of your back, trying his best to keep you distracted and focused on the sensations he could provide.

the entire day you had been in and out of a useless sleep. a long day of tissues, ice cubes, and popsicles. it was like you were just on the verge of rest the entire day, each time you got close, a harsh wave of nausea came through or a new painful headache came by.

after some convincing, he got you up to the bathroom.

he understood it was at its peak when he was sitting on the bathroom floor with you. the comfort of the cold tile just seemed perfect for your clammy skin right now. but simon kept assuring you that once you got sick and got it all out, things would start to feel better.

but if there was one thing worse than nausea, it was the actual act of throwing up. the entire room was filed with your incessant whines and pleas of denial.

and he had gotten close a couple times, helping you pull your hair back and telling you to 'get it out'. though nothing seemed to be working. he felt bad about what he was about to do, but you needed it.

warm and secure hands helped you sit upright, holding your hair in his grip. the same hand that was wrapped around you now wiping your tears.

"open your mouth"

soft pants left your lips when you opened your mouth, not registering what was happening until his fingers shoved all the way back into your throat and he got you to gag. the thick pads of his fingertips pressing down onto the back of your tongue. getting them all soppy with drool. pulling them out after you jolted and grabbed at him.

the cycle started, and you could feel that it was going to happen. looking at him with tired eyes that harbored so much malice at what he had just done. telling him a shaky and quivered 'fuck you' before finally getting it all out. he rubbed your back and held your hair the whole time.

"sorry baby, you'll feel better after i promise."

he was able to withstand your petulant words, you'd be thanking him later when the nausea was gone because you finally stopped fighting it. or was rather forced to.

of course after that awful interaction, he took time giving you a sweet and loving bath. the lukewarm water being just what you needed. he helped you brush your teeth a couple times, the bubbled water swiping over your skin and getting off all that sickness that harbored on your body.

he let you have some alone time after being up on you for the past two days - making sure you had a nice clean bed to get back into after the bath. misting over the covers and pillows with some lavender spray and retrieving a big glass of water with some tylenol next to it.

and you hated to admit how it really did feel better after getting sick. excited to get some sleep after a long day of being teetered on the edge of it for hours.

he shoved the two pills into your mouth and held the straw for you to drink water from.

"good baby . . . feelin' better?" his warm voice purrs while pushing your hair out of your face.

he was happy to see you nod and close your eyes, spending no time waiting around to get some rest.

ೃ࿔* tag list: @vanillarosekiss @simonskitty @cu456 @silverwoodlynx @mlthree @vint4geroses @ktmjoslin @darlingchanse @xangelbnnyx @tslmvn @1pps @jgissle12 @asherscove @bunty-girl @yu-rikaa @diorpar @sky-robin @ray-19 @ldrtypeofgirl @mentalhorror @teranya @chawitea @all-by-myself98 @jinx53 @alfiestreacle @annierosesposts

[nylqnder]

DOROTHEA LUKE HUGHES

pairing: luke hughes x fem!reader

summary: luke's sophomore season is far from what he had imagined. the weight of expectations, buried by the grueling pain of a long season begins to weigh on him. so, when the mid-season break rolls around, instead of going to four nations to watch his brothers, luke heads back to michigan in hopes of finding his love for hockey again.

warnings: vague mentions of anxiety, luke being extremely self critical, poor self-conscience, a bit of swearing, fictionalized events (e.g, how the devils season is going, games that haven't happened yet)

wc: 8.40k

notes: based on ‘dorothea’ by taylor swift. this one will may or may not tug at your heart strings. also quite a bit of this is made up. i know luke isn't having a bad season whatsoever + the devils aren't doing that bad. it's for the sake of the story!

“That’s not fucking good enough Hughes!”

Luke barely registered the assaulting tone of his coach’s voice above his labouring breaths. His chest heaved as he bent at the waist, gloved hands braced on his knees, lungs screaming for oxygen that never seemed to come fast enough. Every inhale burned, every exhale was shaky and ragged. Sweat dripped in a relentless stream down his temples, pooling in the collar of his jersey and turning his pads into a suffocating prison.

Just twenty-six more minutes of hockey, Luke reminded himself. Just twenty-six more minutes until thirteen, blissful hockey-free days.

The Four Nations break, a reprieve that couldn’t come soon enough, felt tantalizingly out of reach. It felt like time had slowed during this game, making it even more painful for Luke.

It wasn’t just his joints that ached or his lungs that burned; it was deeper than that. It was bone-deep. Soul-deep. It was the kind of ache that didn’t go away after a night of icing and a couple of ibuprofen. This was exhaustion — not just of the body, but of the mind.

This wasn’t the way Luke’s sophomore season was supposed to feel.

Luke entered the season with expectations stacked high enough to scrape against the rafters. Media outlets had anointed him the next big thing — another Hughes boy destined for stardom. His debut season had been solid; a Calder finalist-worthy season, in fact. Flashes of brilliance here, mistakes there, but he was still a kid learning the ropes. They’d forgiven him then. But now? Now they wanted dominance. Consistency. Leadership. They wanted him to be everything.

And he was coming up short.

The cold, hard fact of it was written across the scoreboard: 3-1 Canadiens, late in the second. The Devils couldn’t sustain any pressure in the offensive zone, the power play was sluggish, and the defensive breakdowns were enough to make Keefe nearly burst a blood vessel on the bench. Luke knew he wasn’t solely to blame, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that it was still somehow on him. That he wasn’t doing enough. That maybe he wasn’t enough.

“Get your head out of your ass and look like you’re trying to do something, Luke!” Keefe said from the other end of the bench.

Luke didn’t look up. He couldn’t. He simply absorbed his coach's words, shoulders sagging as he grabbed a towel to wipe his face. The damp fabric felt cool for a fleeting second before the heat radiating off his body rendered it useless.

“Hey, shake it off man,” Nico said from a few people down. The captain leaned forward, hands wrapped tightly around the edge of his stick. “Plenty of time left.”

Luke nodded mutely, not trusting his voice. Plenty of time. Sure. That’s what they always said until the buzzer sounded and it was too late. He stared down at the ice in front of him, tracing invisible patterns with his eyes, trying to block out the noise of the crowd, the critical eyes of the coaching staff boring into him, and the sharp stab of self-doubt that never quite went away.

He felt like he was moving underwater. Every shift was a struggle to keep up, every decision a split-second too late. Passes he’d made effortlessly when he was playing college hockey were suddenly bouncing off the heel of his stick. He hesitated when he should attack. He pinched when he should hold back. And he knew — God, he knew — the more he overthought it, the worse it got.

The crowd erupted as the Canadiens scored again. Luke didn’t need to look up to see the damage. The groan of the goal horn, the flashing red light, and the collective exhale from the bench told him everything he needed to know.

Luke gripped his stick tightly, knuckles white beneath his gloves. Twenty-six more minutes.

Blissful, hockey-free days loomed in the distance like a mirage. But would they really feel that way? Would he be able to shut it all off — the doubt, the pressure, the lingering echoes of every misstep? Would time away help him get his head back on straight, or was this just the start of something darker?

A few weeks ago, Luke had turned down multiple invitations from his teammates for getaways to white sandy beaches and crystal-clear waters. Nico was going to Cancun, Timo was going to the Bahamas. All of them were going on getaways for some much-needed rest and relaxation. But Luke couldn’t. He needed something more than just the sun. He needed a mental reset. A return to something grounding.

When the final buzzer blared, signalling yet another disappointing loss, Luke didn't even glance up at the scoreboard. The sting of defeat was something he’d grown uncomfortably familiar with, but it didn’t hurt any less. As he skated off the ice and into the tunnel, his legs felt like lead, his mind clouded with frustration and exhaustion.

He went through the monotonous routine of a loss; pulling off his sweat-soaked equipment one piece at a time while hearing a berating speech from Keefe outlining every single mistake they made, then spewing the same PR rehearsed answers to the media as he was forced to do availability yet again.

As soon as he was out of the arena, Luke pulled out his phone, scanning his notifications. While Jack took to pestering his brother in person, Quinn had messaged him earlier in the day, asking if he’d changed his mind about coming to watch them at Four Nations. It was the first time Quinn and Jack would be on the same team again since their younger days, and they’d been excited about the chance to represent Team USA together.

Quinn: It’s been a minute since we’ve all been in one place. Would be good to see you.

Luke sighed. A younger version of himself would’ve jumped at the chance to be there. To be around his brothers, the guys who’d been his idols growing up. But now, the thought of sitting in the stands, watching them thrive, only highlighted the weight of his own struggles. They deserved his support, but Luke wasn’t sure he could handle being there, feeling like the odd one out in his own family. The longer Luke thought about what he needed to do and where he needed to go, the clearer it became.

Michigan. That was where he needed to be. Not Cancun. Not the Bahamas. Not at Four Nations, no matter how much he wanted to see Jack and Quinn dominate together. Luke had made his decision. Back home was where he needed to be.

As he settled into his seat on the plane, the distant hum of the plane engines and the chatter of fellow passengers faded into the background. His thoughts settled on Michigan. He didn’t know exactly what he was looking for, but he knew it was there. The pull was inexplicable and undeniable, like gravity tethering him to a place he used to call home.

The wheels touched down with a jolt, and Luke pulled his coat tighter against the January chill as he stepped out of the terminal. The air smelled of snow and wet pavement, a scent so distinctly winter in Michigan that it stirred a pang of nostalgia in his chest.

He drove the winding roads back to his childhood neighborhood, the landscape coated in a blanket of fresh snow that shimmered under the streetlights. When he pulled into the driveway of the Hughes family home, the familiarity hit him like a slap. The dented hockey net at the end of the driveway and the porch light his mom insisted on always staying on, even when no one was home — it was all the same. And yet, it wasn’t.

Inside, the house was silent. Ellen and Jim were already in Montreal for Four Nations, cheering on Jack and Quinn as he’d known they would be. The usual warmth of his mom’s laughter, the clatter of pots in the kitchen, and his dad’s voice offering quiet encouragement were all absent. Instead, Luke was greeted by an almost eerie stillness.

He dropped his bag in the hallway and stood there for a moment, taking it all in. The framed photos lining the walls, the scuffed wooden floors from years of indoor hockey games with his brothers — it was like stepping into a time capsule of a simpler life. A life before contracts and endorsements, before fans and expectations, before the weight of the NHL threatened to crush him.

Luke’s footsteps echoed as he made his way to the den. The fireplace was unlit, the room cold. He collapsed onto the couch, running a hand through his hair and staring at the ceiling. His chest still felt tight from the game, his body aching in a way that told him he wasn’t just physically tired but emotionally spent.

Luke had expected something — comfort, nostalgia, maybe even peace. Instead, he was met with an odd hollowness, a space in his chest that Michigan didn’t instantly fill. Maybe that was the point. He wasn’t the same kid who had once called this place home. Still, despite the emptiness inside him, he couldn’t shake the feeling that his path back to himself began here. He didn’t know when or how he’d feel whole again, but he was certain it wouldn’t happen overnight. It wouldn’t happen in Cancun, the Bahamas, or even on the ice in a Devils uniform. If it could happen anywhere, it would be here — in Michigan.

The next morning, hunger and boredom pushed him out of the house. He didn’t have a plan beyond grabbing coffee and then hitting the grocery store. He drove aimlessly through the familiar streets, his heart pulling in two directions — nostalgia and unease. Every corner, every turn, held memories of the life he’d left behind.

He parked outside a coffee shop he vaguely remembered from his college days. It was a cozy spot nestled between a record store and a florist. The bell above the door chimed softly as he stepped inside, the scent of fresh coffee and pastries wrapping around him like a warm blanket.

Luke stood in line, scanning the menu even though he already knew he’d get a black coffee and maybe a bagel. Habit, plain and simple. Once he ordered, he scanned the room for a table to sit at.

That’s when he saw you. At first, he wasn’t sure. The years had softened and matured parts of you, but there was no mistaking the way your hair fell or the way you were chewing on your lip as you stared at your laptop, the way you always did when you were deep in thought. The sight of you hit him like a puck to the chest — unexpected and jarring.

He hadn’t thought about what he would say if he ever saw you again. and yet, there you were, just a few feet away. For a moment, he considered slipping out unnoticed, but the thought disappeared as quickly as it came. Some invisible force propelled him forward, just like it always had when it came to you.

The two of you had been inseparable growing up. You knew each other better than anyone. Your bond had always been easy, natural. But it had never been simple.

Luke remembered the stolen glances, the way his chest tightened whenever you laughed at one of his dumb jokes, and the electric charge that sparked whenever your hands accidentally brushed. It was a relationship constantly teetering on the edge of friendship and something more — a delicate balance neither of you dared to upset.

He remembered the time when you were both sixteen, sitting on his front porch while the post-game party buzzed inside the house. Luke’s team had won in overtime, securing a state championship and the celebration had carried over to the Hughes’ home. Despite the noise behind him, all he could focus on was the way your cheeks flushed from the cold, the way your breath formed soft clouds in the crisp night air. He had been on the verge of telling you how he felt when the front door burst open and his brothers and their friends came bursting out, effectively breaking the moment.

Following that, Luke shoved his feelings down deep. You stayed close, intimate friends, remaining his one constant. Until you weren’t. He was at the University of Michigan, and you were at Boston University. At first, you two had tried. Long phone calls after late practices. Texts full of inside jokes and encouragement before exams. Plans to visit that always fell through because his schedule was relentless, and yours wasn’t much better.

Eventually, the calls got shorter. Then they stopped altogether. Luke remembered how, one night, he’d stared at his phone with your name highlighted on the screen, his thumb hovering over the call button. Michigan had just lost in the Frozen Four semifinals, and he didn’t want to talk to anyone else except for you. It was always you Luke spoke to after the bad games. But the weight of his exhaustion, the pressure of his family’s expectations, and the overwhelming chaos of his life had pressed down on him until he just put the phone down and rolled over in bed. He never called.

He told himself it was mutual, that life had just gotten in the way. But seeing you now, he wondered if he had been the one who let go first.

Then, as if you felt a pair of eyes on you, you looked up to find the familiar set of green eyes looking back at your own. Your eyes widened in recognition, and for a second, neither of you moved. It was like the air around you both had shifted, growing heavier with the weight of unspoken words and time lost.

“Luke?” you said, your voice a mix of surprise and something softer, something harder to place.

He smiled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Hey. It’s been a while.”

That was an understatement. It had been more than a while. It had been years. Years since late-night study hang-outs turned into whispered confessions, since your laughter echoed in his ears as you teased him about missing his fifth straight penalty shot during pond hockey. Years since he’d kissed you in the downstairs bathroom at Isaac Howards' house during a round of Seven Minutes in Heaven. Years since he left, and the texts and calls dwindled into nothing.

“Yeah, it has,” you said, shifting your coffee cup between your hands. Your voice was tinged with something he couldn’t quite place — bitterness? Sadness? Maybe both.

“Yeah. Too many.” He looked down at the table, suddenly unable to meet your gaze. “I’m sorry about that. I should’ve—”

“Called?” you said, raising an eyebrow.

He winced but nodded. “Yeah. I was an idiot. No excuses. I just… I don’t know. Things got crazy.”

You let out a soft laugh, though it didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Yeah, I noticed. A tiny screen’s the only place I see you know.”

Luke looked up, and the warmth in your smile soothed some of the guilt still gnawing at him.

“I guess I deserve that,” Luke admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. He shoved his hands into his pockets, unsure of what to do with himself. “I’ve missed you, though. More than you probably believe.”

The tension lingered for a moment before your expression softened. Something about the way Luke's shoulders slumped, the weight he seemed to carry in his eyes, made you ease up. He wasn’t the confident kid you remembered, always ready with a joke or a smirk. He looked… tired. Like he’d been through the wringer and hadn’t quite come out the other side.

You gestured to the empty seat across from you. “What brings you back to Michigan? Shouldn’t you be playing right now?”

Luke hesitated momentarily but that same pull sent that thought out quickly and Luke sunk down into the chair. “Yeah, I should. But we’ve got a mid-season break and uh… I needed to get away for a bit.”

You nodded knowingly. “Rough season?” you asked, even though you knew all too well how the season was going. Despite the no contact and the years between you, you still found yourself watching his games, keeping an eye on the number forty-three that zipped around the ice.

“You could say that.” His eyes flickered down to his cup, fingers idly picking at the paper sleeve. “Just trying to figure some things out.”

You nodded slowly, studying him. It wasn’t like Luke to open up so easily, but the strain in his voice, the way he seemed smaller somehow, told you he needed this — needed someone to just listen. “How long are you in town for?”

“A week, maybe a little longer. Depends.” he shrugged, attempting a casual tone, but you caught the uncertainty beneath it.

“Well,” you said, your voice lightening, “since you’re here and since it’s been… well, too many years, do you want to grab dinner tonight? Catch up properly?”

His eyes widened slightly like the suggestion had caught him off guard. For a second, he looked like he might say no, but then his lips curved into a small, genuine smile — one that reminded you of the old Luke. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

Dinner plans were settled, and a quick double-check that you still had each other's current numbers followed before parting ways temporarily. Luke had a small smile on his face as he walked out of the coffee shop, his coffee forgotten in his hand. You had been the last person he expected to see, but somehow, it felt like exactly what he needed.

The restaurant you’d picked was a cozy spot you’d discovered a little bit ago that had become one of your favourite places to eat out — nothing fancy, just good food and a relaxed atmosphere. When Luke arrived, the nervous energy radiating off him was palpable. It made him seem much more approachable than the polished player you thought he’d become.

“You clean up nice,” you teased as he slid into the booth across from you, his cheeks reddening slightly.

“Thanks,” he said, laughing softly. “You too. Not that you didn’t already look nice earlier.”

“Smooth,” you shot back, raising an eyebrow as you glanced at the menu. “You always this good at compliments?”

“Only with you,” he quipped, a playful grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

The banter came easily, flowing like it used to in the days when late-night conversations over pizza were a regular occurrence. You found yourself slipping into old habits — teasing him about his inability to order anything outside of his comfort zone and laughing at his stories about Jack and Quinn.

Luke, for his part, couldn’t stop watching you. It wasn’t just how much you looked the same, though you did in so many ways. It was the way you carried yourself, the way you smiled and laughed like no time had passed at all. And yet, there was something different, too — a confidence that hadn’t been there before, a quiet strength he found himself drawn to even more than he had been back then.

But the laughter and lighthearted conversation couldn’t completely drown out the nagging thoughts in his mind. As you talked, Luke found himself thinking about how much he’d screwed up. He’d let the distance between you two widen, let life pull him in one direction while he let go of the thread that connected you both. He’d told himself it was just how life went — people grew apart. But now, sitting across from you, he couldn’t believe how wrong he’d been.

“You okay?” Your voice broke through his thoughts, pulling him back to the present.

Luke blinked, realizing he’d been staring at you a little too long. “Yeah. Sorry. Just… thinking.”

“About?”

He hesitated, the words caught in his throat. How did he even begin to explain? That he regretted letting you slip away, that he’d been an idiot for not fighting harder to keep you in his life?

“Just… how crazy it is to run into you like this,” he said finally, skirting around the truth. “I didn’t think I’d ever get the chance to catch up with you.”

You smiled, but there was something wistful in your eyes. “Yeah. Life has a funny way of throwing surprises at you.”

The conversation shifted back to lighter topics after that, but Luke’s mind lingered on his regret. Every laugh, every shared memory, every glance reminded him of what he’d lost — and what he didn’t want to lose again.

As the night wore on and the restaurant emptied out around you, neither of you seemed eager to leave. The conversation deepened, and the teasing gave way to more heartfelt exchanges. You talked about what you’d been up to in the years apart, the struggles and triumphs, the paths you’d taken that had led you back to Michigan.

When the server finally dropped off the check, Luke reached for it before you could. “I got this.”

You frowned. “Hey, it was supposed to be my treat. It was my idea to get dinner anyways.”

“And I’m saying I owe you one,” he countered, his expression soft but firm. “Please. Let me.”

You relented, watching as he handed his card to the server. “Fine. But next time, it’s on me.”

Luke froze for a moment, the words “next time” ringing in his ears. He looked up at you, a small, hopeful smile playing on his lips. “Next time, huh?”

“Yeah,” you said, your tone light but your meaning clear. “Next time. You’re here for a few more days, right?”

Luke couldn’t bite back the smile that tugged on his lips. “Y-yeah. Next time.”

The next few days passed in a blur of shared moments. You carved out time from your busy schedule, meeting Luke for coffee, going on impromptu drives through your old favorite spots, and even hitting the gym together. He insisted he couldn’t slack on his training, and you, eager to spend more time with him, agreed to join.

At the gym, Luke was in his element, focused and disciplined, but there was an ease to his demeanor when you were around. He showed you proper form on certain exercises, his hands brushing yours occasionally as he adjusted your grip or stance. Each time, your heart skipped a beat, though you tried to hide it behind playful jabs about his “personal trainer” persona.

But amidst the laughter and lighthearted moments, you also fell back into the habit of sharing quieter, heavier conversations, confiding in one another once again. One evening, after a long day, the two of you sat on your couch, an old movie playing in the background as you nursed glasses of wine. Luke had been quieter than usual, and you could tell something was weighing on him.

Luke, despite his mood significantly lifted as he spent time around you again, couldn’t shake the weight that followed him from New Jersey. The doubts gnawed at the edges of his thoughts, even in moments of laughter and ease. Being with you was a welcome reprieve, a chance to remember a version of himself that wasn’t defined by statistics or expectations. But deep down, he couldn’t ignore the voice that questioned if he’d ever truly get his groove back — if the player he once was was still in there, waiting to be found, or if he’d lost that spark for good.

“You wanna talk about it?” you asked, breaking Luke from his incessant thoughts.

Even after being apart for a few years, you could still read Luke like a book. He got no better at hiding what was running through his mind as he got older. That, or you got better at reading people as you aged. Though you were always good at it.

“No, no… It’s a lot, don’t worry about it.” Luke answered, focusing back on the movie playing, though he had missed so much of the plot he wasn’t sure what was happening anymore.

“C’mon,” you said, sticking your foot out and nudging his thigh with your toe. “It’s me.”

It was you. You had always kept his secrets, even his deepest darkest ones, like when he confided in you about how he didn’t know if he wanted to pursue hockey, despite it being practically expected of him. You also always knew what to say, giving the best advice, like when you told him he was being irrational because hockey was all he thought of and what he had dreamed of since kindergarten.

He hesitated, his eyes fixed on the deep red liquid in his glass. “It’s just… hard, you know? This season. Everything feels off. I keep messing up, and it’s like no matter how hard I try, I can’t shake it. The comparisons to Jack and Quinn — they’re constant. And the worst part is, I feel like they’re right. Like I’m not good enough to be in the NHL.”

Luke’s voice cracked slightly as he continued, his grip tightening on the glass. “It’s like I’m not even me anymore. I’m just… Jack and Quinn’s younger brother. The one who hasn’t lived up to the hype. The one who’s just an extension of them.” He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I’m so tired of it. Of being seen as this kid who only got here because of who he’s related to.”

You placed your glass on the coffee table, shifting to face him fully. “You’re tired of being known for who you know,” you said gently, watching as his eyes flickered toward yours, the weight of your words visibly landing.

Luke nodded slowly, his jaw tightening. “Yeah. Exactly. I just want to be Luke. Not someone’s little brother. Not some placeholder. Just… me.”

You leaned forward, resting your elbows on your knees. “Then start there,” you said. “Stop letting other people’s opinions decide how you see yourself. You’re not Jack. You’re not Quinn. You’re Luke — the guy who’s passionate, hardworking, and ridiculously competitive.” A small smile tugged at your lips. “I’ve seen that side of you, even when you were a kid. You always wanted to carve your own path. And you’re doing that now, whether you feel it or not.”

He exhaled slowly, the tension in his shoulders easing ever so slightly. “It’s hard to believe that sometimes.”

“I get that,” you said, your tone soft but firm. “But Luke, your brothers didn’t get you to the NHL. You got you there. They’re part of your story, yeah, but they’re not the whole story. You’ve earned this. You belong here. And I know it feels like you’ve lost your way, but maybe this slump is just part of figuring out how to be the player you want to be.”

Luke looked at you for a long moment, his green eyes filled with a mixture of doubt and something softer — hope, maybe. “You really think I can turn it around?”

“Luke. You really think your entire NHL career is over after one bad season?” you said, snorting at your own words. Luke couldn’t help but chuckle at his own over-dramatics. “I know you can turn it around… I have no doubt. But you need to start believing it yourself.”

A faint smile replaced his troubled expression, and he set his glass aside, leaning back against the couch. “You always know what to say.”

You grinned, nudging his knee with yours. “That’s because I’ve always believed in you, Luke. Even when you don’t believe in yourself.”

For the first time that evening, Luke let out a quiet laugh, the sound lightening the mood. “Thanks,” he murmured, his voice soft. “For being here. For… everything.”

“Always,” you said, meaning it more than you realized.

The rest of the night passed quietly, the two of you lost in conversation and shared memories. And as Luke left your place that evening, he felt lighter, the weight on his shoulders not entirely gone but more manageable.

The next day, the realization that it was Luke’s last night in Michigan crept into every shared moment. It added a bittersweet edge to the laughter and easy camaraderie that had blossomed between you over the past few days. You both avoided bringing it up during dinner, the unspoken knowledge settling between you like a silent companion.

After the meal, Luke suggested going for a walk. The winter air was crisp, and the stars shone brightly in the clear Michigan sky as you strolled down familiar streets, your breath visible in the cold. You pulled your coat tighter around you, glancing at Luke as he walked beside you, his hands tucked into his pockets.

“Thanks for spending so much time with me this week,” he said after a while, breaking the comfortable silence. “I know you’ve got a lot going on.”

You smiled softly. “I wanted to. Besides, it’s been nice… like old times.”

Luke chuckled, though there was a wistfulness in it. “Yeah, it has. Better, even.”

The two of you fell silent again, the sound of your footsteps crunching on the snow-covered pavement filling the void. You turned onto a quieter street, where the houses were dark, their occupants already tucked away for the night. You glanced at Luke, his hands shoved deep into his pockets and his mood having shifted from a moment ago.

“Penny for your thoughts?” you teased lightly, hoping to coax him out of his silence.

He stopped walking, turning to face you. His expression was serious, his brows knit as though wrestling with something he hadn’t planned to say. “I think I’ve been running from a lot of things,” he began, his voice low and steady, “but especially you.”

The words hung in the air between you, raw and unexpected. Luke took a step closer, his green eyes searching yours. “When we drifted apart, I told myself it was just the way things had to be. That the distance, my career — it was all just part of life. But I see now… I could’ve fought harder. I should’ve fought harder. For us.”

His admission made your chest tighten, a mix of emotions flooding through you. You had spent years wondering if he regretted letting you go, if he missed you as much as you missed him. And now, hearing the regret in his voice, it felt both validating and bittersweet.

“Luke…” You took a breath, steadying yourself. “It hurt, you know? Losing you. But I understood why you made the choices you did. Your career — it’s everything you’ve worked for, and I didn’t want to be the one holding you back.”

“I never thought of it that way,” he interjected quickly, his tone earnest. “You were never holding me back. If anything, you grounded me. You believed in me even when I didn’t believe in myself. And I’m sorry. For not saying that. For not fighting harder to keep you in my life.”

You nodded, emotions welling in your chest. “I won’t lie — it was hard. But I’ve always rooted for you, Luke. Even from afar, even quietly. Even if it meant letting you go.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the quiet of the night wrapping around you like a fragile cocoon. Luke’s gaze softened, and he nodded, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “I don’t deserve you,” he said softly.

“Enough with what you do and don’t deserve,” you said shaking your hand. “Cause you’re stuck with me anyways.”

The walk back to your car was quieter, but the silence wasn’t heavy. It was filled with a sense of understanding, of unspoken words that no longer needed to be said.

The next morning, as you drove Luke to the airport, the mood was bittersweet. He promised to keep in touch this time, and for once, you believed he might actually follow through. When you hugged him goodbye, he lingered for a moment longer than usual, as if reluctant to let go.

“Take care of yourself, okay?” you said, pulling back to meet his eyes.

“You too,” he replied, his voice softer than usual. “And thank you. For… everything.”

After Luke returned to New Jersey, something shifted within him. The heaviness of expectation and self-doubt hadn’t completely vanished, but your words lingered in his mind like an anthem: You’ve earned this. You belong here.

For the first time in months, he started seeing his struggles not as failures but as opportunities to grow. Instead of obsessing over his brothers’ accomplishments or the weight of media scrutiny, he set smaller, personal goals. Maybe he wouldn’t assist on every goal scored in every game or win the Norris, but he could focus on winning his battles in the corners, improving his breakout passes, and becoming a reliable presence on the ice.

That renewed mindset brought subtle changes to his game. At first, it was just flashes — an extra step to break up a play, a crisp pass that led to a goal. His confidence grew with each small victory, and while the slump didn’t disappear overnight, it didn’t feel insurmountable anymore.

Through it all, you and Luke became each other’s anchors. Despite the distance, your late-night conversations became a constant. You’d talk about everything — your classes, his games, old memories, and future dreams. Sometimes, the chats were lighthearted, filled with laughter as you teased him about his weird superstitions, like tying his left skate before his right. Other times, they were raw and vulnerable, as you vented about the pressures of school and fear of what came beyond graduation.

It wasn’t always easy. There were nights when his games ended late, or you were swamped with assignments, but both of you made the effort. The bond you shared was undeniable, and as the weeks passed, Luke found himself thinking about you more and more. The idea of a life without you felt incomplete — like something vital was missing.

One night, after a grueling loss to the Washington Capitals, Luke couldn’t shake the disappointment. He had played well, but the team had faltered, and the sting of another defeat hung heavy in the air. Sitting in his car outside the arena, he found himself dialing your number.

You answered on the second ring, your voice warm and familiar despite the late hour. “Hey, everything okay?”

Luke hesitated for a moment before sighing. “Not really. I’m getting better at handling the pressure, but…something still feels off.”

“Want to talk about it?” you asked softly.

He leaned back in his seat, staring at the dashboard. “I hate that I’m here and you’re there,” he admitted. His voice was raw, tinged with frustration. “I hate that I keep letting distance get in the way of us. It’s like, no matter how well I play or how much I try to focus on hockey, it doesn’t feel right. Not without you.”

His confession hung in the air, and for a moment, you didn’t know what to say. You had felt the distance too, in quiet moments when you wished he were there to share a laugh or hold your hand. But hearing him say it made the ache more real.

“I miss you too,” you finally said, your voice quieter now, but steady. “More than I can put into words. But Luke…this, us — it’s worth fighting for. Even if it’s hard sometimes.”

Luke closed his eyes, letting the weight of your words sink in. He’d known it deep down, but hearing you say it gave him a renewed sense of clarity. “I know it is. I just… I don’t want this to feel like something I’m waiting for. I want it to feel like something we’re building.”

“And we are,” you reassured him. “Every late-night call, every text, every moment we make time for each other — it’s not just waiting, Luke. It’s us figuring it out together. And as much as I’d love for things to be easier, maybe this is how we know it’s real. Because even when it’s tough, we still choose each other.”

His chest tightened, not with sadness, but with an overwhelming sense of gratitude. You always had this way of grounding him, of reminding him what mattered most. “How are you so good at this?” he asked with a soft laugh, the edges of his frustration beginning to melt away.

“Good at what?”

“Making me feel like I’m not completely screwing everything up,” he admitted.

“Because you’re not,” you replied firmly. “You’re trying, Luke. That’s more than enough. You’re enough.”

A few weeks later, as the regular season wound down and playoffs loomed, you found yourself on another late-night call with Luke. This time, he seemed lighter, more at ease, even as the intensity of the season ramped up. It was a stark contrast to the stressed, self-critical tone he’d had earlier in the year.

“You ready for the playoffs?” you asked, genuinely curious. The way he’d been playing lately, it seemed like he’d turned a corner, but you couldn’t help wondering how he was handling the weight of it all.

“Yeah,” he said simply, without hesitation.

His answer caught you off guard. “You’re not nervous?”

“Nope.” He chuckled, and you could practically hear the shrug in his voice. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m excited. But nervous? Not really.”

You smiled to yourself, a wave of pride and relief washing over you. “That’s new.”

“It is, isn’t it?” he admitted. “I don’t know… I think I finally realized that worrying doesn’t help. I’ve spent so much time obsessing over being perfect, over trying to measure up to everyone else, that I forgot to just enjoy playing the game. And honestly, I’m tired of carrying all that pressure around. Hockey’s supposed to be fun.”

Hearing him say it so confidently, so matter-of-factly, made your heart swell. For months, you’d watched him wrestle with self-doubt, pushing himself to the brink in search of validation. Now, he sounded like someone who had finally made peace with himself — or at least started to.

“I’m proud of you, you know,” you said softly. “It’s not easy to let go of that stuff.”

“It’s easier with you,” he replied, his voice tinged with warmth. “You’ve always been in my corner, even when I wasn’t in my own. That means everything.”

The playoffs arrived sooner than Luke anticipated, and with them, a surge of pressure that made it harder to focus on anything outside the rink. But Luke stepped onto the ice for Game 1 with a steadiness that surprised even him. The crowd roared, the energy was electric, and though the stakes were higher than ever, he didn’t let it overwhelm him. Instead, he focused on the little things — staying composed under pressure, trusting his instincts, and playing the way he knew he could. Game by game, he chipped away at his self-doubt, leaning into the mental resilience he’d been building all season.

The Devils clawed their way through the first two rounds, overcoming grueling battles and earning every victory. Luke’s performance was a reflection of his growth. While he wasn’t the flashiest player on the ice, he was reliable, steady, and clutch when it mattered most. He had a knack for breaking up key plays, making smart decisions under pressure, and even contributing a few timely assists and goals that had the crowd on their feet.

Through it all, you were there, albeit through a screen. You found a way to catch every game, even the ones that happened in between your exams, forgoing studying to watch Luke zip around the ice. Your support grounded him, a reminder that no matter how chaotic things got on the ice, he had someone who believed in him unconditionally.

By the time the conference finals arrived, the Devils were a team to be reckoned with. Facing off against the Carolina Hurricanes, the series was a war of attrition — fast-paced, physical, and emotionally draining. Luke felt the pressure mounting, but he refused to let it control him. Instead, he leaned into the same mantra that had carried him through his struggles earlier in the season: You’ve earned this. You belong here.

The series stretched to six games, with each one more intense than the last. Luke played some of his best hockey, blocking shots, setting up plays, and doing whatever it took to keep his team in the fight. But in the end, the Hurricanes proved too strong. In Game 6, with the Devils down by a goal late in the third period, Luke was on the ice for a final push. They came heartbreakingly close, but the buzzer sounded, and just like that, the run was over.

The locker room was heavy with silence afterward, the weight of the loss pressing down on everyone. Luke sat at his stall, still in his gear, staring at the floor. It hurt — of course it did. But this time, the pain wasn’t accompanied by the same crushing self-criticism he’d once felt after losses. Instead, he felt a deep sense of pride. They had made it this far, farther than many had expected, and he knew he’d left it all on the ice.

Later that night, he called you.

“Hey,” he said, his voice surprisingly calm.

“Hey,” you replied, bracing yourself. You’d seen the loss and expected him to be devastated. “How are you holding up?”

He surprised you with a small chuckle. “Honestly? I’m okay. Don’t get me wrong, it sucks, but… I feel like I gave it everything I had. That’s all I can do, right?”

Pride swelled in your chest. This wasn’t the Luke you remembered from a year ago, who would’ve let the loss consume him. “I’m so proud of you,” you said sincerely. “For how you’ve handled all of this. You’ve grown so much, Luke.”

Your words stayed with him long after the call ended, echoing in his mind like a steady drumbeat. You’ve grown so much, Luke.

Your graduation day dawned bright and warm, the campus alive with energy as classmates, friends, and families gathered to celebrate. You felt a swirl of emotions — pride, excitement, and a faint wistfulness. While you were thrilled to be closing this chapter, part of you couldn’t ignore the ache of someone missing. You had tried to manage your expectations, knowing Luke's NHL schedule and how taxing the playoffs had been. But as you slipped on your cap and adjusted your gown, you couldn’t shake the quiet hope that maybe, somehow, he’d be there.

The ceremony itself was a blur of speeches, applause, and cheers. Crossing the stage, you accepted your diploma with a wide smile, the weight of your hard work finally lifted. Afterward, you joined the throng of graduates filtering toward the quad, where your family had promised to wait. Spotting them amidst the crowd, you waved, your heart swelling with love as you saw your mom, dad, and younger brother standing together. But then, your eyes caught on something — or someone — else.

Luke was standing behind them with a bouquet of fresh daisies, baby's breath, and soft pink roses tied with a satin ribbon. His boyish grin was unmistakable, and it softened the moment your eyes met. The disbelief must have been written all over your face because his grin widened as he gave you a small wave.

Your legs carried you forward without hesitation. First, you hugged your parents and brother, exchanging congratulations and laughter, but your gaze kept darting back to Luke. Finally, you stepped toward him, your voice catching as you said, “What…? You’re here?”

He held the bouquet out to you, a little sheepishly. “I wouldn’t miss this for anything,” he said, his voice low and warm. “You’re one of the most important people in my life. I had to be here.”

Your chest tightened with emotion as you accepted the flowers, their sweet fragrance mingling with the warmth of his presence. “Luke, I didn’t think—”

“I know,” he interrupted gently, his eyes steady on yours. “And I’m sorry for making you think I wouldn’t come. But I wanted it to be a surprise. Your mom helped me with it, actually.”

You glanced over at your mother, who wore an undeniably large grin that stretched across her lips, her eyes practically sparkling with the kind of knowing satisfaction only a mother could have. She had always harbored a soft spot for Luke, often claiming he was the one boy you’d never quite forget. She firmly believed, with the quiet certainty that only years of maternal instinct could provide, that no matter how far life took you, he was the one you’d eventually find your way back to in the end.

Luke pulled your eyes back to his as he spoke again. “You’ve been there for me every step of the way, even when I didn’t deserve it. This is your moment, and I wanted to be part of it.”

Tears prickled your eyes, but you blinked them away, laughing softly as you shook your head. “You’re unbelievable, you know that?”

“Yeah, I’ve been told,” he teased, his smile making your heart ache in the best way. “But seriously, I’m so proud of you. You did it.”

You didn’t think, you just stepped forward and wrapped your arms around him. He pulled you close without hesitation, his embrace grounding you in a way that only he could.

As you pulled back from the hug, you caught your mother’s subtle signal—a raised brow and a little nod toward Luke. She knew, of course. She always knew. With a quick glance at your dad and brother, you gave them a look that clearly said, I need a minute alone with him.

“Why don’t we grab some photos?” your mom suggested, steering your dad and brother toward a picturesque spot by the fountain. You mouthed a quick thank you before turning back to Luke.

“Want to take a walk?” you asked, motioning toward the quiet pathways that wove through the campus.

“Lead the way,” Luke replied, his hands slipping into the pockets of his suit pants.

The two of you walked in comfortable silence for a while, the hum of distant laughter and celebration filling the air. You made your way toward a shaded grove near the library, a place where you had spent countless hours studying. Today, it felt almost sacred, a fitting backdrop for this moment.

“I’m glad you came,” you said finally, breaking the silence.

“I’m glad I’m here,” Luke replied, his voice earnest. “I’ve been thinking about this day for a while.”

You glanced at him, your heart skipping at the way his jaw tensed like he was working up to something.

“Listen,” he began, stopping in his tracks and turning to face you. His green eyes, usually bright and playful, were serious now, searching yours. “I’ve spent the last year trying to figure out how to say this without screwing it up, but here goes.” He took a breath, his shoulders rising and falling. “You mean the world to me. You always have. And I know I didn’t always handle things right between us — I’ve made mistakes, I’ve let hockey, distance, and my own insecurities get in the way — but you’re the one person I can’t imagine my life without.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but he wasn’t done. “I don’t want to keep pretending that what we have is just history or that I’m okay with being just friends. Because I’m not. I’m in love with you. I’ve been in love with you for years, and I don’t want to waste another second not saying it.”

His words hung in the air, heavy and electric. For a moment, all you could do was stare at him, your heart pounding in your chest. The honesty in his eyes, the way his voice trembled just slightly—it was everything you had once hoped to hear from him and more.

“Luke,” you said softly, taking a step closer. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Say you’ll give me a chance,” he replied, his voice steady despite the vulnerability etched into his features. “Say you’ll let me show you that I can be the person you deserve. Say you’ll be with me.”

A smile broke across your face, and before you could overthink it, you nodded. “Okay,” you said, your voice catching on the emotion swelling in your chest. “Yes. I’ll be with you.”

Luke’s smile was a mixture of relief and joy, as though he had been holding his breath and could finally exhale. He took a step toward you, his hands reaching out, and for a moment, it felt like everything in the world had paused — just the two of you, finally on the same page.

He gently cupped your face, his thumb brushing your cheek, and you felt the weight of the moment settle between you. Then, his gaze shifted upwards, and he chuckled softly. “Can’t kiss you with this thing on,” he teased softly.

Luke carefully slid the cap off your head, setting it aside on a nearby bench. The small gesture felt oddly intimate, like he was making room for something even more meaningful.

When his hands returned to your face, the warmth between you both felt undeniable. He leaned in, this time without hesitation, pressing his lips to yours in a kiss that was tender at first, like he was savoring the moment. The way his lips moved against yours was more sure, more confident, and you couldn’t help but smile into the kiss, realizing just how much better he was at it now than when he was 16.

When he finally pulled away, you both breathed deeply, as though trying to catch your bearings after such a powerful kiss. A small laugh escaped your lips, and you smirked, your heart racing. “You’ve definitely gotten better at that,” you said, your voice light with amusement.

Luke chuckled, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “I’m glad you noticed,” he said, a smug grin tugging at his lips. “But I’m just getting started.”

You walked back toward your family, hand in hand with the boy who had always been a part of you. It was a moment to savor, but also one to look forward to—a future that felt just a little bit clearer, and a little bit brighter, because of him.

[ddejavvu]

anakin pulling reader over his lap spanking her and teasing/making fun of her for liking it and occasionally stops to rub his fingers against her clit to see she’s wet and he’s laughing and making fun of her for it, how dirty and how she’s so desperate for him oml😫😫😫

this post is 18+, minors dni.

contents/warnings: dark!anakin (probably), spanking, impact play + lots of dialogue about it, manhandling, pain, use of the word 'whore', mentions of a daddy kink but no involvement with one.

"This is ridiculous." Anakin's grating drawl reaches your ears, his speech pattern stunted condescendingly like he's charging through molasses, "I mean, this looks like a bad porno."

You're bent over his lap, fingers clawing into the carpet beneath you, and his flesh hand is working a tight burning sensation into the exposed flesh of your ass. He doesn't smack rhythmically, no, he smacks hard from below to watch your ass jiggle, then quick and rough from the side to watch his hand encompass a large portion of your flesh.

There's no predictability to his movements, and your eyes are squeezed shut, filled with glassy tears that would stop you from seeing even if they were open. You cry out with each new smack to your ass, acting completely helpless the way you let your limbs sag lifelessly over Anakin's lap. If you wanted to, you could push yourself off of him, or crawl forwards and run. But you don't- you were the one that asked for this.

"Is this really what you like? Bending over my lap and making me spank you like you're a whore in a video? Wait," He laughs, sounding evil and haughty, "Are you going to start calling me daddy next?"

He punctuates the accusation with a sharp, searing slap against the middle of your ass. You're sure he's watching as your flesh bounces according to his abuse, but he acts like he's so above you, like you're a sex-crazed playboy bunny archetype for wanting some pain with your pleasure.

You're expecting another slap but it doesn't come, instead you feel two rough fingers prodding mercilessly against your entrance. Thankfully, you're decently wet from the way Anakin's been bruising your ass, so there's little resistance, and not much discomfort even as he bullies his way inside.

"You're soaked." He judges, eyes surely scrutinizing the spread of your puffy cunt lips that he can see behind your ass, "This is really- pathetic. I'm hitting you and you're getting wet from it. Is that really how you wanna leave a wet spot on my pants? From being smacked around?"

You gasp desperately for air, grinding against his lap just as pathetically as he'd accused you of. When you raise your head to speak, to try and defend any shred of dignity you may have left, you feel a sharp pain in your neck, and register too late that it's anakin's hand having shoved your face back down towards the carpet. He keeps his metal hand firmly, steadily on your head, and you breathe shakily as your wide eyes stare at the floor. Your cunt throbs.

"Don't fucking-" He breathes like a crazed animal, like a dragon piping smoke from its snout, "Don't lift your head up like you're better than this. Keep your face in the floor. All you deserve to look at is my boots, because right now, you're dirtier than they are."

You manage to choke out a 'Yes, Anakin' without thinking. It feels right, succumbing to his power. Even if you could get out. You grind against his lap again, begging for another bruise.

"That's exactly how someone who gets off on this should speak," You can hear his breathing again, raw and ragged as he thrives on dominance. His hand lowers again, against the flesh of your right ass cheek to leave a burning mark in its wake, "And every time you sit down for the next week, you're going to feel this. And every time you feel this, I want you to remember that your pussy is leaking because I'm beating you up. Does that make you feel good?"

It's a yes and it's a no. It lights shame within your chest, but that shame is a candle that drips warm sticky wax down your ribs and into your core, which tingles anticipatorily with pleasure.

"Does it make you feel good?" Anakin repeats, louder, angrier this time.

"Yes!" You shout, giving in to the answer prevailing in your mind, the one that had come to you without logic's involvement.

"Remember that." He commands, and it's deliciously ominous as he plants another smack against your ass, "Remember that you get off like this. With your face in the floor and bruises on your ass."

[lovejongseob]

Hi, can you maybe do big chested reader x seob pleasee? <3

Jongseob x Reader w/ big chest

Ofcc !! Tysm for requesting, I hope you enjoy !! ^^ I didnt know if you wanted nsfw or sfw so theres a bit of both

Sfw

Jongseob is extremely respectful and polite, especially to his partner. However, underneath what he shows to most people, is possibly a slight perverted side. He can usually hide it quite well, but in certain predicaments, he just can't.

He'd never want to make you uncomfortable, so he can somewhat reserved in the beginning of your relationship. When you both get more comfortable with physical touch later on, you'd soon notice certain patterns, and a possible fixation with Jongseob.

Jongseob is super considerate, always readjusting your shirt or smoothing it out, eyes on your chest the entire time. He loves playing with any necklaces you might wear, dragging his hands down just a little before going back to the jewelry. The most obvious example, you'd notice Jongseob gives you an unnatural amount of hugs. Even when he doesn't 'need to', multiple times while hanging out, while simply talking, it's like he's just trying to find a way to press you against him.

Arguably one of Jongseob's favorite things ever, is laying or sleeping on them. Just give him five minutes, and hes out. Genuinely believes they give him good dreams to an extent, he's never had a bad one when sleeping on them. Has his hands loosely wrapped around your waist, or placed on your hips, and you're worried about whether he can breathe or not.

He genuinely is thoughtful, if you ever get any back pains or aches, hes quick to rub at it. Offers any heating or cooling pads he might have, and lets you lay down while he grabs pain meds for you. If they ever get sore, he would offer to massage them, and while his heart is going crazy, he keeps his head cool and focuses on helping you.

Nsfw

If you're into this type of thing, Jongseob would lose his mind if you sent him a picture of them. He can't stop himself from getting hard, not when you're telling him you took the picture just for him. He'd come on his phone screen with the image still up, imagining it was actually on your chest.

A bit more specific, but he loves how they look with his name written on them. If you send a picture after writing out Jongseob on your chest, he may or may not send an audio of him getting off to said picture. Jongseob also wouldn't mind writing it on you in person.

His favorite position without a doubt is you riding him, and an amazing bonus is being able to hide his face in your chest. It feels so lewd how they bounce around his face, he can't get enough. Sucking and biting at them as much as he can, it's good for keeping him quiet when needed.

Not too surprising after what he did to his phone screen, but he's entranced with the idea of getting a boob job, or just coming on your chest in general. Just the thought already makes him feel so sensitive, and he thinks they'd look so good around his shaft, or covered in his cum. He'd come noticeably quicker when doing this, and it's the perfect opportunity to tease him.

was gonna write a freaky a/n about how i love boobs but then depressing ass music played and now im just in a neutral state between those two. i hope i wrote this good, i have the opposite of a big chest so i was a tad worried. .⁠·⁠´⁠¯⁠`⁠(⁠>⁠▂⁠<⁠)⁠´⁠¯⁠`⁠·⁠. thinking about boobs again let me add tags before i write the freaky a/n on top of this one.

[wcnderlnds]

what is right ★ choi su-bong (thanos)

・❥・ summary: su-bong loves you, he does but sometimes he's an idiot and doesn't always make the right decisions. but, maybe this once, he can try to. ・❥・word count: 2.6k ・❥・warnings: 18+, mdni. fingering, unprotected p in v. drug mentions bc thanos. swearing. usual squid game shenanigans. thanos is soft while still being thanos. ・❥・ authors note: lowkey hate everything i write lately but i missed writing for my boy. this was a request i’ve had in my inbox for a while <3

The dulcet tones of Haydn’s Trumpet Concerto woke you up, rousing you from a sleep you didn’t even know you’d fallen into it. Disorientated, you sat up, rubbing your eyes in a bed you didn’t recognise. Where the hell were you? The last thing you remembered was going to the meeting place the guy on the phone told you and now, here you were. You took in your surroundings, the colorful patterns on the wall, the hundreds of bunk beds piled up around the place. There were so many people here. What the hell had you got yourself into?

You quickly joined the crowd of people that were gathering. There had to be at least over four hundred people here. You glanced down at the number on the blue-green tracksuit you were wearing. 231. Huh, that must be your number then. Some pink guard came out, explaining things. Then, they started playing videos on the screen of all the people who owed debts. There was one person in particular that caught your eye.

That purple haired menace you called your boyfriend.

There he was on the screen, his bright green shirt blinding, vape in his hand as he stared at the screen. So, he was here? You were moving before you even realised it, pushing through the crowds of people to try and find him. It wasn’t hard, his purple hair standing out above everyone else. When you sidled up to him, you gripped his wrist, pulling him to look at you once he was done whining about his limited edition shoes. His eyes widened almost comically when he saw you.

“The hell are you doing here?” He hissed. It wasn’t maliciously, though there was a hint of annoyance in his voice.

The night before, you had got into an argument. It was a stupid one, it didn’t even matter in the long run but when you fought, it was bad. Both of you were too stubborn to admit you were wrong so the anger and annoyance always lingered until one of you - usually you - finally caved. No matter how annoyed you were with him, you loved him. And, you knew he felt the same way. You had been together for almost three years now. They hadn’t been easy by any means. There had been so many challenges along the way but you’d always come out of it stronger, together.

“Trying to get some cash to help your stupid ass,” you huffed, arms folded across your chest.

Thanos rolled his eyes. “I don’t need your help.”

“Says the guy who got himself into millions of debt by investing in some stupid bitcoin that I told him no-“

He cut you off, holding his hand up to stop you. “I don’t want to hear it again, okay?”

Your mouth opened then closed immediately. It wasn’t worth it, it was a fight that had been continuously happening since he’d lost all his money. You weren’t exactly angry at him, just at the fact he’d fallen for something so stupid, losing all the money he’d worked so hard for because he’d got greedy. It was a broken record at this point. You sighed, wrapping your arms around yourself and that caught his attention. He glanced at you, his eyes softening as he saw the defeated look on your face. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his side.

“You’re a fucking pain in my ass but don’t ever doubt that I love you, aight?” He pressed a kiss to the top of your head when his attention was suddenly caught by the infamous MG Coin. You let him do his thing, his friend Namgyu trailing after him like a lost puppy.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

This wasn’t happening.

There was no way.

Your eyes glanced down to the body in front of you, blood everywhere including all over Thanos’s face. You dared to glance at him, his face frozen in shock. You could see the panic setting in, his anxiety threatening to bubble to the surface. If this was any other time and place, you’d reach out, take his hand in yours and reassure him that everything would be okay. But, you couldn’t. Not if you wanted to stay alive.

Things had been going so well before this. When you’d first stepped into the giant room with the sand floor and creepy doll standing at the other end, Thanos had decided to try and impress you with a stupid rap. Unfortunately, it had worked, your cheeks flushing red as he rapped about how you were his ‘beauty flower’.

Now, it had turned into a nightmare.

The second the light turned green, you ran and turned to look behind you to watch your boyfriend pull out his cross. You knew what came next. He’d take out a pill, pop it in his mouth then for the next few hours it’d be like he was on another planet. It broke your heart that he relied on this to help him feel okay. There had been so many late night conversations while he was off the drugs where he told you how scared he was, how everyday he felt anxious and terrified to the point that he didn’t know what to do. It broke your heart. His crutch was those colourful little pills. It pained you to know that you couldn’t help him. Maybe one day but that wasn’t any time soon.

Thankfully, you got through the game in one piece and so did Thanos. He had bounded over to you, crushing you to his chest with a huge smile when he saw that you’d both made it. Muttered praises of how proud he was of you, how strong you were whispered in your ear. You knew he was high but something you knew better than anyone was that he never lied to you. Not when he was high or sober. He was always brutally honest, it was one of the things you loved about him. It made your heart swell, calming down the tears that were threatening to spill at the nightmare you were now locked in.

The second game was just as bad. Thanos had sworn to protect you and he had. He hadn’t let you out of his sight for one second, always making sure to have some part of him touching you whether it was his hand on your lower back, or his shoulder pressed against yours. He had popped another pill that morning, lost in his own little world. Now, he’d even started giving them to Namgyu so you had to deal with two high idiots. There had been a brief moment where he tried to offer you one but you refused. No matter how scared you were, you weren’t going to get hooked on those. You worried about him enough, you didn’t need to worry about yourself either.

It was when the third game came around when things took a turn.

Mingle had almost been your demise.

When it sounded out that it was two people to a room, Thanos had immediately tried to grab your hand to drag you with him but Namgyu got his hands on Thanos first, pulling him away. He had yelled out for you, his eyes wide with fear as you stood there frantically looking around to find someone to pair up with. Your feet couldn’t move, accepting your fate but Minsu came in clutch, wrapping his hands around your wrist and pulling you to a room.

He had saved your life.

Once you got back to the room, Thanos had almost tackled you to the ground, his strong arms holding you close against him.

“I’m so fucking sorry. I’m so sorry, baby,” he mumbled into your hair, clutching to you like you were his lifeline. You could feel his heart pounding against his chest. “I thought I had you. I thought you were with me but this fucking asshole dragged me off.”

He glared daggers at Namgyu and so did you. But, that could wait. You had to reassure Thanos that you were okay. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m fine, I’m here. Minsu saved me.”

“I should’ve. I thought I’d fucking lost you.”

“You didn’t, okay? I’m right here.” You pulled back to cup his face in your hands. The regret and guilt swirling in his eyes made your stomach flip. He was terrified, even high on the drugs he was still that frightened boy that you’d met years ago. “It’s not your fault. Listen to me, Su-bong. It’s not your fault.”

“No, it is, I should’ve protected you. I said I would and I failed.”

He pulled you back to his chest, cradling the back of your head. Your eyes caught Namgyu and if looks could kill, he’d be dead on the floor. The intesity of the anger in your eyes almost made him recoil.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

When the vote had came that night, you were fully prepared for Thanos to vote to stay in but you watched as he solemnly walked up to the button and without hesitation pressed the button to leave. It took you back. His eyes met yours, the guilt still eating at him. So, you followed suit, pressing to leave.

Settling into your bunk, you tossed and turned, unable to sleep. Even though you’d voted to leave, too many people had voted to stay which meant you were still stuck in these deathly games. The mattress dipped and you didn’t need to guess who it was, you instantly knew. Thanos slid in next to you, wrapping his arms around you from behind. Usually, you’d feel safe in his arms but in this place, it was hard to feel safe even if your comfort person was holding you.

You turned around to face him, meeting his eyes. The drugs had worn off. He looked tired, defeated. “Stop beating yourself up about it.”

“Can’t, Senorita. I almost lost you. If I had? There’d be no fucking point to anything. What would I have left?” He pressed a kiss to your cheek then found your lips. He kissed you eagerly, desperately.

It left you breathless, your hand gripping onto his arm as his tongue slid into your mouth, tangling with yours. He managed to move you to lay on your back, settling himself on top of you. This was more than just a kiss, he needed this. He needed to know you were here, he needed to feel you. So, you let him. Maybe it would help both of you calm down.

His kisses became more desperate, his lips trailing down your cheekbone to your neck leaving sloppy, open mouth kisses along the column of your throat. His hips grinded against you, a soft, quiet moan slipping past your lips at the feeling of his clothed length pressing against your core.

“Someone will hear us,” you breathed, feeling his fingers dipping beneath the tracksuit pants you were wearing.

“Then be quiet, yeah?” He mumbled against your skin. His fingers pressed against your clothed core, feeling the damp patch that had began to form there the second he had put his lips on yours. “I need to feel you. Need to know you’re really here.”

Now, his fingers had dipped inside your panties, one of his long digits trailing along your slit. Your arousal coated his fingers, eliciting a groan from him. He found your clit, rubbing tight, quick circles on the sensitive bud. It had your body arching, aching for more. He knew your body better than anyone, knew exactly what you needed. You gasped as you felt him slide two fingers into your entrance. “Su-bong!”

Hearing his name fall from your lips in a breathy gasp, spurred him on. His fingers began to slide into and out of you. Slowly at first but he sped up, your walls clenching around his fingers. His lips found yours again in another messy, desperate kiss. “Fuck, I need to be inside you.”

He wasted no time at all yanking your pants down, baring your glistening heat to him. He shoved his own down just enough to free his cock. He wrapped his hand around his length, pumping himself a few times. He teased you a little, rubbing the tip of his cock against your folds, coating himself in your slick before he nudged the head at your entrance. His eyes locked onto yours, holding a finger up to his lips to signal you to be quiet.

Then, he pushed in. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying your hardest not to moan out as he bottomed out, his hips flush against yours. You had never been more thankful that you were on the top bunk, less prying eyes able to see what you were up to. You could tell he was fighting to be quiet too, his bottom lip tugged between his teeth. He pulled all the way out then thrust back in. “Shit, you feel so fuckin’ good.”

He wasn’t slow. Not at all. He set a quick, hard pace from the get go, your body moving with the force of his thrusts. One of his hands gripped your hip, his fingers digging hard into your skin while the other held him up. This was messy, desperate. It was his way of reminding himself you really were there and he hadn’t lost you.

Your hands gripped onto the fabric of the jacket on his back, scrambling for something to hold on to as you tried your hardest to keep quiet but it was hard with the way he was fucking you. It felt so damn good, you couldn’t help yourself as a moan tore from your throat. His eyes widened, one of his hands clamping over your mouth to muffle the sounds.

“Be quiet,” he grunted, hips still thrusting into you. “I’m not trying to get us both killed here.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have started fucking me in a murder game then.”

“You’re so annoying.”

There was no malice behind his words, in fact he was grinning at you, causing you to grin too. He angled his hips, hitting that deep spot inside you that caused your head to spin. You were close. He knew it with the way your walls were tightening around him. He hid his face in your neck, his thrust growing erratic. He groaned against your skin, his own orgasm fast approaching. “Come for me, Senorita. Come on, give it to me.”

That was all it took, your legs wrapping around him as your body tensed. He quickly pressed his lips to yours swallowing your moans as you came around him. That triggered his own release. One hard thrust into you and he stilled, spilling himself inside you, his own moan muffled by the kiss. He shallowly kept moving his hips, prolonging your pleasure for as long as he could before he finally collapsed on top of you. He rested his forehead against yours, his breath coming out in heavy pants.

“We’re getting out of here, I promise. Fuck this shit and fuck Namgyu. I might kill him myself,” he brushed some of your hair away that had fallen in your face.

“Aw, but I wanted to,” you pouted.

That caused him to laugh. “Together then?”

“Deal.”

For once in his life, he knew he had made the right decision to try and leave and God forbid he’d do everything in his power to get you out of this shithole. It wasn’t often he made good decisions but you and your safety came above anything and everything else. He’d do anything to make sure you were safe.

taglist (ask to be added!): @ldydeath @infinetlyforgotten @berfgrimm @loveesiren @justsisse @sherrayyyyy @aizshallnotbefound @fleabagspurplewife @gemzyy @bettelaboure @gdinthehouseee @breakmeoff @babyrvis @flymetothexmoon @forevervibezzzz1 @ttturnitup @szonyix6277

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

Lessons

Summary: Joel Miller, the smuggler of the Boston QZ, does not want your money when he gets you the medication you need, he asks for your body. Something you happily agree to. But one night he catches you touching yourself after you just had sex and leaves you to finally admit to him that you almost never finish with him. Something Joel can't and won't let stand.

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem. reader

Rating: E

Wordcount: 3k

Warnings: Boston QZ Joel, sex as a business transaction, mentions of period pains and medication, mentions of alcohol. smut (unprotected sex, semi public sex, oral sex) Joel is bad at feelings but he's trying, little bit of oblivious idiots cause why the hell not

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Full Masterlist // Joel Miller Masterlist

It started because you needed pills.

FEDRA had again increased the prices for the medication you and many other people needed, you, to get through you period every month and you had heard from a friend of a friend of a friend that there might be another way to get it. 

It was back then that you met Joel Miller. 

You were at the speakeasy after a long day of pretending to love getting to cook meals at the FEDRA base on the other side of the QZ. 

You hated the job, but it paid well and left you being able to sometimes steal shit so you put a fake smile on while the FEDRA officers lined up to get their food at the make shift cafeteria you were working in, ignoring their lingering stares and attempts to flirt with you. 

It had been a long and exhausting day and you wanted a drink when your friend Carl told you that Joel Miller was here. You followed the way he was pointing at, being met with dark eyes already looking at you. 

He was not what you expected. 

Smugglers you had met before usually were younger and making you uncomfortable for various reasons. 

But Joel Miller was attractive in a dangerous way. 

He was sitting at the far end of the underground speakeasy, his jeans clad legs spread widely. He had a drink in his hand, that was resting on his thigh, the sleeves of the dark shirt he was wearing pushed over his elbows, showing his strong arms. 

But it was the way he was looking at you that made you realise that Joel Miller could become a problem for you. 

It was the first night he had fucked you. 

In a dark corner outside of the speakeasy, his hand wrapped over your mouth to keep you quiet as he railed you against the cold stone wall, spilling his cum over your still clothed back before you could cum, leaving you to clean up by yourself while he made his way back inside. 

You had to finish yourself off the moment you got home.

A pattern that you didn’t know would continue for the next years. 

It was easy. 

You let him fuck you and he would get you the drugs you needed. 

Yes, you could afford to pay him with ration cards. It would probably even better for you. But over the years this arrangement you had was now going, you started craving the way he was using you. 

It was the only human connection you allowed yourself to have, even though it only rarely ended with you getting to climax. Something that you realise should bother you more. 

It wasn’t like he didn’t make you feel good. He did. He was big and rough and just what you craved. 

He just wasn’t in it for you, but for him and him only. 

Joel came, every single time. 

Be it on your ass, on your tits or in your mouth. He always finished. 

It was always the same procedure. 

Every three months you’d meet up at the speakeasy. He would fuck you from behind either there or at your home, never his, and you would wake up to a three month supply of the drugs you needed on your kitchen table. 

You asked him once how he did get inside of your apartment and he said that you should learn how to lock your door.

But tonight something was different. 

You had run into him on the street after your shift. Another thing that seemed to happen more often. 

In the last couple of months Joel seemed to always be where you were. Something that had not happened in all the years before. 

It had only been three weeks since you met up and he asked if he could come over later. 

Confused you had agreed. 

If you were honest with yourself you had been looking forward to spending the rest of your day with the bottle of wine you had stolen from the FEDRA kitchen some weeks ago. 

There would be memorial services all over the QZ tonight, the curfew being lifted for the day before and for Outbreak day. 

You couldn’t believe it already had been ten years. 

You were already a glass of wine in when you heard a knock on your door. Event though you knew who it would be (you never got visitors) you checked before you opened the door for Joel. 

He nodded at you as he entered and you leaned with your back against the closed door, watching him in your space. 

You came to the realisation that you only ever spend time with him when it was dark outside. Like he was a monster that was hiding under your bed. 

He awkwardly turned around to look at you and you tilted your head to the side as you looked at him, waiting for what would happen next. 

„The supplier for your drugs got killed last week. I don’t have someone new yet, but I have these,“ he reached into this back pocket and showed you a small tube of pills. 

„These should last you for four months more. I’ll try to figure something out for after,“ he said. You nodded, taking a step towards him. He held out the tube of pills and you took it from him, reading over the faded out ink on the label that read the name of a woman that was probably long dead. 

„Thank you,“ you said quietly. 

„Take a seat, I’ll just put them away,“ you said. He nodded and you turned around, walking towards your little bathroom. You put the pills away, before you looked at yourself in the small mirror above the sink. 

You asked yourself why he chose today to come over and give you the pills. He could have waited  until the next time you were due since he had a full supply for the next time. 

Not that you were complaining. 

More than once you had tried to come up with a plan to have sex with Joel more often than you did, but for some reason you felt silly with every idea that you had. 

You could ask, but you didn’t think you could handle if he said no, so you made your peace with the arrangement you had. 

You just wanted to spend more time with him, feeling yourself drawn to him. 

Taking a deep breath you made your way back towards your kitchen area, where Joel was now sitting at your small table. You were overwhelmed with the urge to climb into his lap. 

Instead you picked up your glass of wine to take a sip. 

„You want a glass too?“ You asked him. 

„Sure,“ he nodded. You picked up a mug. 

„Only have that one glass, sorry,“ you said sheepishly as you filled the mug with some wine and brought it over to him. 

„Where did you get that from anyway?“ He asked, his fingers brushing over yours as he took the mug from you. 

You sat down on the chair next to him. 

„Stole it from the FEDRA pantry,“ you shrugged and he looked at you with a raised eyebrow  before he shook his head, his mouth twitching into a small grin. 

„Unbelievable,“ he said looking at you with warm eyes before he brought the mug up to his lips. 

„They have so much shit they don’t need. Makes me angry to see everyone suffer while they get to eat first class meals. So I sometimes take things,“ you shrugged. 

„Anything else you took?“ He asked, leaning towards you. 

You sucked your bottom lip in, before you got up. 

„I usually take small stuff. Spices, herbs and shit. But,“ you bend down, opening the cabinet under the sink and reaching to the very end, searching for the two bottles you hid there some time ago, grinning when you picked them up and turned around, missing him staring at your ass.

His eyes widened when he noticed what you held. 

„Shut the fuck up," he said in awe and you chuckled. 

„You want some Jack and Coke, Miller?“ You winked and he shook his hand with a grin. 

„If you’re offerin’“ he winked.

„Please,“ you moaned, letting your head fall down against your pillow as Joel fucked you into you mattress. You were so close. He had one of his hands on our back, pinning you against the mattress while he pumped his cock into you in deep hard thrusts. 

He had gotten you naked not long after you offered him the first glass of whiskey, asking you if you’d like to suck his cock while he emptied his glass. 

You did, keeping him on the edge for almost an hour before he pulled you up and told you to kneel on the bed. 

You were surprised to find him pulling you up against his chest moments later, his skin against yours as he played with your tits. 

Usually these fucks were quick, leaving no time to really get out of either of your clothes. And if you had the time, it was always you who got naked. 

„Always so fucking good,“ he moaned behind you and you gasped. You reached one hand between your legs to play with your clit when Joel groaned and pulled out of you. Whining as he turned you around you looked up at him as he jerked himself off before he moaned and spilled his cum all over your body. 

You were annoyed for a moment, having been so close yourself but that disappeared the moment you saw how relaxed Joel looked. He was mumbling something you couldn’t make out before his eyes opened, taking you in as you laid on your back with his cum all over your stomach and chest. 

„So pretty,“ he mumbled before he let himself lay down next to you. He stretched his arms to the side and you sighed, slipping your fingers through his cum on your chest, bringing it up to taste it. With a grin you turned your head towards the side to look at Joel only to find him asleep.

Disappointed you sat yourself up before you made your way back to your bathroom to clean yourself up. 

After taking care of your business and brushing your teeth you grabbed a glass of water and made your way back to your bed. Joel was still sleeping, laying completely naked in your bed, his flaccid cock still glistening in your juices. 

Shaking your head you grabbed your spare blanket and put it over him before you snuggled under your blanket. You switched the small lamp on your bedside table off.

Usually he would be gone by now. 

He never stayed, let alone fell asleep next to you. It made you think back to the last time you had shared a bed with someone. Ten years ago.

The last time your life had been normal. The last time you had been truly happy. The last time you had slept in the arms of the man you thought you would grow old with only to wake up to him trying to kill you. 

Closing your eyes you shook your head, trying to get rid of the memory that haunted you every single day. You turned your head to look at Joel.

He looked so much younger when he was asleep. The lines around his eyes almost gone, his lips resting in a pout. Adorable. 

You spend more time thinking about Joel Miller than you would ever admit. 

Of course you heard the stories around the QZ about him. How he took no shit from anyone. He had the reputation to be brutal and cold. 

But he never was with you. 

You hummed, letting your hands ran down your body, before you brought one hand between your legs while your other hand played with your tits. 

You moved your fingers over your clit, your pussy still wet from Joel fucking you. 

Thinking about how he felt when he fucked you you pushed two fingers inside of you, humming quietly. It wasn’t his cock, but it would do the job. Moving your fingers inside of you, the palm of your hand massaging your clit. 

„Fuck,“ you whispered, moving your hips slowly. You pulled your fingers out, focusing on your clit instead and you smiled when you felt the familiar feeling of your orgasm approaching. Arching your back your blanket slipped down, revealing your tits to the cold air. 

Your lips parted as you took deep breaths, your orgasm so close you could almost taste it. 

You released a long and happy sigh when you finally came, biting your lip as you rode it out. Relaxing back into your bed you closed your eyes, smiling to yourself. 

„Can’t get enough, huh?“ Joel’s sleepy voice startled you and your eyes opened wide, finding him looking at you as he laid on the side.

Caught, you felt your cheeks burning before you turned your head away from him, hiding. 

„Uh. Yeah. I just… needed to cum again….“ You mumbled awkwardly, intending to get out of the bed to flee into the bathroom, before you felt his fingers wrap around one of your writs, holding you back. 

Nervously sucking your bottom lip in you turned back to him, finding him already looking at you with narrowed eyes.

„You did cum earlier, right? I felt it,“ he said.

You just looked at him, trying to figure out how to get out of this situation when you slowly shook your head. He blinked once, twice at you before his eyes widened. 

„You didn’t cum?“ He asked, confused. 

Suddenly feeling too naked for this conversation you pulled your blanket up and over your breasts as you turned on the bed towards him. 

You took a deep breath. 

„No. I did not,“ you finally said and if this situation wouldn’t be so awkward you would laugh at his horrified expression. 

„But… You… You… I felt it? I did, didn’t I….“ He was speaking to himself and you took his hand. 

„It’s not a big deal. Maybe it’s me. It’s always been hard to finish and…“ You were stopped as he squeezed your hand. 

„You did finish before with me, right?“ He asked slowly. 

You nodded. „Of course!“ You said quickly. 

He narrowed his eyes again. 

„How often. And don’t lie to me,“ he added. You looked down at your hands.

„Joel, can we please just… I don’t know. Sleep? This is… You make me feel so good. Really. And that’s….“

His fingers tilted your chin up so you had to look at him. 

„How often?“ He asked again and you sighed. 

„Once,“ you mumbled.

„Once?“ He asked with wide eyes. 

„Yeah. But Joel… I like the way you fuck me. It feels good and I don’t care if I cum or if I don’t cum. And I mean it’s a business transaction really so it doesn’t….JOEL!“ You cried out his name when he grabbed you to lay you down, throwing the blanked off your body, his body caging you in. 

„Do not say that it doesn’t matter. Just because it’s business does not mean that it doesn’t matter that you don’t cum. Why didn’t you say anything?“ He asked.

„Because this is fucking awkward,“ you whined. 

„Doesn’t matter. I don’t make you cum, you tell me. Or better yet,“ he said as he slowly slipped down your body. 

„We not gonna leave this bed until I know exactly how it feels when you cum,“ he said and you felt his beard lightly scratch over your stomach, before he settled between your legs. 

„But Joel. You don’t have to do this. It’s just sex,“ you said and you saw him close his eyes before he took a deep breath and looked at you again. 

„Hasn’t been just sex for me for a while. Why do you think I keep looking for reasons to run into you,“ he said and it was like something clicked inside your head. You had been seeing him fairly often these last weeks. But he never talked to you. He sometimes nodded at you when you saw him, but there was nothing else. 

„So please, let me learn how to make you cum so I don’t feel like a dick who has been using the woman he’s been crushing on like a fucking teenager?“ He said and you grinned. 

„You are crushing on me? That’s adorable,“ you teased and he chuckled with a shake of his head before he kissed your inner thigh. 

„Not a big talker. But I now how to use my mouth in other ways,“ he winked before he licked through your folds, making you gasp. 

„And I need you to guide me, so I know what to do the next time,“ he said.

„Next time?“ You asked. 

„Next time,“ he nodded, before he began to eat you out.

He started slowly, his tongue exploring your pussy, humming at your taste. You could not take your eyes off of him. 

His strong arms were wrapped around your thighs, keeping your legs parted as wide as he needed while he nibbled and sucked and licked you, driving you positively insane.

Once he had you cumming on his tongue he used his fingers. Saving every single expression and sound you made to his memory so he would never forget what made you cum. 

In the early morning hours he had you coming on his cock, squeezing him so hard he almost spilled inside of you, yet he fucked you through your orgasm until he pulled out and spilled himself all over your pussy. 

You were almost asleep, exhausted and utterly satisfied from the five orgasms you had in the last hours, when you almost missed him pulling you against his chest and kissing your shoulder, mumbling a sleepy „Love you“ against your ear.

Making you fall asleep with a smile on your face. 

[secretlysamcro]

I don’t know how many times I called her.

Six? Seven? Maybe more. Just silence. My jaw clenched tighter with each unanswered call. Ghost was stable, thank fuck. But the crash looked bad enough to scare the shit out of us all. His bike locked up mid turn, the front wheel just fucking froze and sent him flying. I was the first to reach him, blood marked his lips, one eye swelling and the kind of wince that told me something inside wasn’t sitting where it should be. Could’ve ended so fucking bad. Chibs said it might’ve been a brake issue, but we won’t know for sure until we look at it properly.

Gemma was already at the hospital when we got there, her eyes wide with panic until she saw him breathing, still conscious but in pain. She pulled me in for a hug. “Does your sister know?” She asked, gripping at my kutte.

“Not yet” I muttered “She’s not pickin’ up.”

Gemma didn’t say anything else. Just looked at me, telling me what to do without actually opening her mouth. So I did what she wanted. I jumped on my bike and headed to her apartment.

I punched in the code to her building. Ghost gave it to the club as soon as she moved in “Just in case she ever needs you boys” she never knew though, never needed to.

As soon as I stepped off the elevator, I heard her. Raised voices, heated. His too. I ran a hand over my face clenching my jaw. I already had blood on my hands from hauling Ghost off the gravel. I didn’t have the patience to add any more. I banged on the apartment door, loud and sharp.

Logan answered the door in nothing but a pair of basketball shorts. Before I could even open my mouth he twisted his head over his shoulder to shout. “You told your brother?”

“What the fuck are you talking about” her voice rang out from somewhere inside.

This guy really didn’t wanna test me right now. “Told me what?” I pushed him out the way stepping into the apartment without invitation. He didn’t answer my question.

She stepped out the bedroom and froze when she saw me. A tight black tank just about covered her tits, matched with a pair of black lace panties that left nothing to the imagination. The look of shock on her face was instant, her wide eyes zoning in on mine like she wasn’t sure if I was real. I forced myself to look away, turned towards him instead, trying hard as hell to swallow down what I’d just seen.

“Jax what are you doing here?” She asked, shifting on her feet. Arms crossed over her chest now like she was trying to hide from me. I hate that she felt she had to do that.

I cleared my throat, pushed my hair back “It’s Ghost” I made eye contact with her again “His bike went down” I watched her try to process my words.

“What are you saying?” She said, stepping closer to me.

I could see the panic in her eyes “He’s breathin’, fuck sorry I should have started with that” I looked over my shoulder feeling Logan’s presence getting closer. “He’s banged up, at St Thomas. But he’s good. Been askin’ for you” I looked the asshole up and down before turning back to y/n.

“Shit. Ok hold up let me just throw something on” She spun on her heels, disappearing back towards the bedroom. The tank hugged every dip and curve on her body. Fuck, she’d filled out. Full hips that swayed with confidence. Thighs looking all soft and thick enough to crush a man if he was lucky to be in that situation. I felt myself staring. Imagining the way she’d feel if I gripped her hips and pulled her into me. Jesus Christ. I shouldn’t be thinking about her like that. And then I caught a glimpse of ink just above the curve of her ass. A butterfly maybe, wings curling out in some delicate pattern. Didn’t even know she had a tattoo. Just another thing I didn’t know about her anymore.

I snapped myself out of it, looking back over to Logan. I could see he was pissed, whatever I’d interrupted didn’t sound like nothing. They were arguing about something, what? I had no fucking idea and I had no time to press him because she was already back out the bedroom, fully dressed. Black hoodie. Grey leggings and a pair of air forces. I got her those. A birthday present a few years back. I tried my hardest not to smile.

“You’re really gonna leave?” Logan piped up from the corner, gripping onto the back of a kitchen chair.

“It’s my fucking Dad” she snapped. “Don’t wait up. We’ll finish this shit later” she threw him the kind of side eye that could cut through bone. The same look I’ve caught a few times myself, and trust me it never missed. He opened his mouth like he had something slick to say. But one look from me shut him right the fuck down.

The walk down the hallway felt longer than it actually was. It had been a long time since we’d been alone together, and there was a reason for that. It was safer that way. Easier. We stuck to gatherings. Cookouts at the clubhouse, Gemma’s random Sunday dinners. Somewhere constantly surrounded by noise and distractions. Even then we barely crossed paths anymore. I spent most days buried neck deep in club shit, and y/n was off doing god knows what in her own world. But now we were alone. Just me and her, and I couldn’t ignore how fucking loud the silence was.

I watched her closely as she pressed the button for the elevator. We were stood side by side like strangers who still knew every past detail about each other. Like the way she twisted the rings on her fingers, spun them around and around. The way she kept tugging at the pendant on her necklace, rubbing the back of her knuckle against the soft skin beneath her chin. She did that when she was pissed, confused or scared. It was like her secret subtle comfort. I couldn’t tell if she was anxious about Ghost or about being stuck in this silence with me. Maybe both. Wouldn’t blame her.

Just before I could speak, her voice cut through the air. “What happened?” She asked her voice just above a whisper.

I sighed, flexing my jaw before answering. “Don’t know yet” I muttered “Something went wrong. Flipped him straight off” the elevator made a sound as it reached our floor, the doors sliding open.

“It looked bad” I admitted, stepping inside and pressing the button for the ground floor. “Could’ve been worse. Way fuckin’ worse.”

The doors shut us in, trapping us together for a few more uncomfortable seconds. Finally, she looked up at me, eyes wide and full of unspoken fear. I realised in that short moment she needed reassurance. She needed me to be there for her, even if it was just for a minute.

“He’s okay” I told her. “Gemma’s already at the hospital. Clubs all there. He’s awake, flippin’ off nurses and still swearing like a damn sailor”

She exhaled a deep breath, the relief visibly washing over her.

“Ghost is tough, we both know that” I told her what she already knew.

She asked how I got in. Told her what Ghost had said the day she moved here. Said it was for emergencies. She just laughed, like she figured he would have, she probably expected it. The doors slid open and we stepped out. I headed towards the main entrance, but her hand gently caught my arm, stopping me in my tracks. I froze at her touch.

“I’ll take my car” she said, nodding toward the fire exit, her keys jangling nervously in her hand.

I frowned, shaking my head firmly. “Nah. Get on with me. We’ll get there quicker” I saw the hesitation flicker in her eyes and I didn’t understand it at first, until the memory slammed into me. “I got you” I told her, “Trust me.” She slipped her keys back into her hoodie pocket and nodded once.

Outside, I handed her my helmet. She pulled it on slowly. When she slid onto my Dyna, her hands hovered for a second before wrapping around my waist. I felt that familiar pull the second her palms settled against my stomach. Then her arms locked a little tighter, I reached back, adjusting her grip and let my hand linger just a second longer than I needed to.

“Don’t let go” I murmured. She didn’t answer with words but I could feel her chest pressed against my back, and how her heart was beating wild through the layer of leather between us.

The waiting room was buzzing the way it always was when shit went down with the club. Quite voices, heavy eyes, tension clinging to every wall. Reapers around every corner. All eyes looked up when we walked in. "You okay lass?" Chibs was the first to greet us, standing from his seat and giving her a small but respectful nod. Juice waved, a little smile playing at his mouth like he didn't know if it was okay to do so yet. Even Tig stood from his chair, stepping to squeeze her shoulder in support.

"Hey baby" Gemma's voice was soft as she pulled her in for a hug. "Dad's through here, come on. I'll take you" y/n glanced over her shoulder and gave me a small nod. I took it as a silent gesture of appreciation. I watched them walk off together, to Ghost's room just down the sterile hallway.

"You heard from Clay, brother?" Tig's voice broke through the hum of the waiting room as I slumped down into the empty chair next to him.

"Nah." I shook my head, "Why?"

Tig shifted in his seat, leaning in a little closer. "No one's heard from him. Radio silence." I met his eyes. Wild and unreadable. But I could tell he was dancing around something, like he wanted to say more but wasn't sure how to get it out. And with Tig, that wasn't ever a good sign. Minutes went by and I was getting restless. Told myself I was gonna give y/n space. Let her sit with Ghost and Mom, let it all settle. But my feet had a mind of their own. Before I even realised what I was doing, I was pushing open the door to his room.

He was propped up, one arm strapped tight in a sling from shoulder to wrist. His face looked worse than before. Bruises peppered across his tawny skin, one eye so swollen it was a hairline away from being shut. He had bandages wrapped tight around his ribs, and the whole left side of him was raw, from where he kissed the gravel. He wouldn't be riding any time soon, that was for sure. But he was breathing, and that's all that mattered.

"You look like shit" I mumbled, walking over to stand beside Mom, still keeping my distance from y/n even though my eyes were already on her. She glanced at me, it was quick, but it was still there.

"That any way to talk to your sister?" Ghost joked, his voice rough from the meds. But he had his usual glint in his eye, the kind that proved he was gonna be okay.

I huffed a laugh, gripping the bed rail. "I meant you, old man. What the fuck happened?"

"My bike..." he muttered, shaking his head like he still couldn't wrap his mind around it. "She just...gave out. Locked up...I don't know brother." He shifted too fast, winced in pain as he fumbled his good hand against the sheets. "That bikes my baby" he added, looking over at y/n, his real baby, his face softening. "She's never failed me before man"

y/n didn't say much. She just nodded, blinked a few times, wiping at her nose as if trying to cover the fact she had just been crying. I thought it was about Ghost, I mean fuck it had to be. But looking at her now, up close...I wasn't so sure.

"Babe, you and y/n wanna grab us some coffees or somethin'?" Ghost turned to Gemma, but it wasn't a question, more like a subtle command. He wanted the room cleared, and they knew better than to ask why. So neither of them argued. Mom nodded and looked to y/n. She stood, kissed her dad gently on the side of his face that wasn't bruised to hell. And on her way past me, her hand brushed mine. It was light, barely there. Probably an accident, but fuck, it still lit something under my skin. I watched them both walk out. My mom and my...her. The two women I'd go to war for without a second thought. Once the door clicked shut behind them, I turned back to Ghost. "You gonna tell me what's going on?"

"That Logan showed up?" Ghost asked, turning only his head towards me. His body stiff from pain.

I shifted my hands in my pockets. "Nah. I went to get her." Definitely not where I thought this conversation was headed, but knowing Ghost, the man zigzagged through thoughts like someone trying to escape a maze.

"Good" he half groaned. "Cause if that little fuck walks through that door, I’ll find a fuckin' way to crawl out of this bed and stamp his fuckin' chest in myself"

The way he said it made me pause. "What the fuck happened?" I asked, edging closer to the bed.

He stared past me for a second, his jaw clenched the best he could. "He's been dealin' coke"

I blinked "Logan? Dealin'?" the words tasted wrong in my mouth. None of this shit made sence. Logan had no fucking spine, even if he tried to act like he did. That guy is a complete fucking pussy. He'd been with y/n for nearly three years and barely said 5 words to me. I jut barged into his apartment and he never said a word. He’s never even stepped foot in the clubhouse. Never shook hands with any of the brothers. Ghost hated him from the jump, and truth be told, so did I.

"Fuckin around with Laroys crew" Ghost continued "Supposed to move a brick for em. Got jacked for it” "Jesus fuckin' Christ" I growled it low, dragging a hand down my face. My fingertips catching the sweat clinging to my hairline. "How the fucks he wrapped up with the Niners?" I muttered, squinting as I was trying to piece it together. I mean yeah, I heard he came up in a rough neighbourhood but that don't automatically mean he's out there selling on a corner.

His lip curled. "Plays ball with one of the youngers or some shit. She don't know the ins and outs. Just recognised the name, knew we were tight with them"

I swore under my breath, my jaw tightening as I started to pace the room. "And now what? He fucks up and they’re sniffing around her?" My voice was rising, but I didn't give a shit. The Niners don't play clean, they don't care who's in the firing line. Logan had made himself a target, and now she's just collateral.

Ghost let out a slow, bitter sigh. "They got to him. Ambushed him back to apartment but he got inside quick enough" his eyes flared as he looked up at me. "But you really think it stops there?" His voice sharpened, heat laced every word. "They know who he lives with, She's tied to him, Jackson. That makes her a fuckin' target. If they want him, they can have him. But they ain’t touchin’ our girl. I'd handle this shit myself, you know that" He then gestured to himself laid up in the hospital bed. He shifted, the pain etched in his expression. I nodded as he spoke, already knowing I'd handle it. Even if Ghost was able, I'd still be riding shotgun.

"I'll call Laroy, get a sit down. Handle it clean” I began to tell him “I'll make it real fuckin' clear that Logans not one of us, never was, never has been. Once they know who she is to us they'll back the fuck down and deal with him, and only him”

I could tell the meds were starting to drag Ghost under even more. His eyes were getting heavy and his voice a little slurred, the weight of everything finally caught up to him. "I don't want her goin' back to him, Jackson" he said, turning his head deeper into the pillow "Told her she's stayin' at home from now on" He let out a low hazy laugh "Your mom's stayin' here with me tonight. Swears I need babysittin’ or some shit" There was a pause before he added "I need you at the house tonight. Keep her company. Told her to call Raye, but that girls outta town"

My phone was already out from my pocket, thumb hovering over Laroys name. My chest felt tight, nerves firing off between each of my ribs. Not because I had to make the call, not even because this could turn into a whole different kinda storm.

But because I was gonna be spending the night home alone with my sister, again.

[interruptedtrance]

Stress relief (franco x reader)

Smut; 18+

contains: calling franco master, nicknames (amor), reader being a brat, being used as stress relief, hands being tied behind the back, spanking, using a ruler, crying, aftercare

masterlist

“come here”

“yes master”

“over the desk”

“i'm sorry, what?”

slamming down his work, “bend over the desk, i've had enough of you amor” now slightly getting up from his chair, pointing where he wants you on the desk, “you have been such a brat, teasing all morning, disturbing me while i work, and now again walking around in a skirt that doesn't even cover anything!”

hesitation fully leaving your body, you move to his desk and bend over it, “i'm sorry master” you let out a small whimper.

he gently runs a hand on the inside of your thigh, before roughly grabbing your mound, and ripping your panties off you, “amor,” he inhales a deep breath, only making you more worried, “i want you to be quiet, and let me use you as stress relief.”

you lightly tremble, “yes master”, you feel franco grab both of your arms and pull them behind your back, firmly holding them to your lower back. his other hand, working off his tie, and carefully binding your arms together, making sure the knot isn't done too tightly.

soon franco sits down and returns to his work, while reading over some documents he gently traces his hand along your thigh, every now and then giving it a gentle squeeze, making you let out a tiny breath.

but the touches don't stop there, his hand moves to your ass giving it a rough squeeze, pulling a moan from you. “what did i tell you?” he questions without easing up his grip on your ass.

“to not make any noise”

“and what did you do?”

“i made noise, i'm sorry master” you knew better than to piss him off even more.

“amor, what do brats like you get?”

“they get punished sir”

“that's correct amor, now pick a number between one and five”

hesitating a bit, before you answer “four”.

“four times five is twenty, exactly how many swats you will be getting”

“what, why so many?” you try protesting. but franco now pulls you over his lap.

“why twenty, well you chose four swats, and the five is for every offence you have done, i see that before each session you will need to explain why you are getting them”

“yes master” you hang your head in defeat.

“can we start? why are you getting the first set?”

“i went over my spending limit”, as soon as those words came out you felt the first slap on your right cheek, the second soon following to your left, and the next two landing in the middle, each one making you hiss out in pain.

franco now gently rubbing your ass, “you should be thankful it wasn't for every dollar you went over, now what's the next thing?”

“i wore short skirts in the hopes of getting your attention sooner”

“shame you didn't ask for it” and with that another set is done, he makes sure to hit the exact same spots to really drive the message home, each spank harder then the last, making you cry out in pain.

franco is still gently caressing your bruised ass, and cooing at you to get you to calm down, “aaa amor it's not so bad, i wouldn't be doing this if you were good for me.”

“i disturbed you while you worked”

franco didn't start as soon as you stated what you did wrong, he caressed your ass for a second longer, “the next round will be with a ruler.”

“yes master” and again, in the same pattern he abused you ass, this time laying down even harder smacks making you shed a few tears.

“what color amor?” he questions, while gently running one hand over your burning cheeks, and with the other grabbing the implement.

“green master” you say with a tremble.

“alright amor, for what are you being punished now?”

“i didn't listen when you said i had to be quiet”

“correct” franco gently drug the ruler up your thighs to your cheeks, making sure both of them felt the ruler equally. when he brought the instrument to your ass, he held it there for a moment, and just gave you a few light swats with it, not enough to hurt, just enough to sting a bit, making you release a breath you didn't know you were holding.

“and what is the last thing amor?” he questioned, while pressing the ruler into your burning skin.

“i've argued with you”

before he spanks you for the final four times, he gently kisses you on your head, and gives you another four light swats, making sure to spread them out so it doesn't hurt too much.

“thank you master” you say, while he is undoing the knot.

“stay over my lap for a second” he orders, while moving to grab something from his desk drawers, in the meantime you move and fold your arms under your head so it's being supported a little.

“this might be a bit cold amor” he mentions, before he softly traces his palms against your red cheeks to spread the ointment so you don't bruise. the cold from the ointment makes you let out a content breath.

he moved you, so that you are now sitting on his lap, careful of the area where he has delivered the hardest spanks too. “did the ointment feel good?” you only nod in return, now tired from the punishment.

franco gently grabs your face in his hands, and with his thumb lightly wipes away the tear streaks on your face, before softly connecting your lips together.

[mihii-i]

I saw that you were wanting requests for Mizu, so hiii, I have one! :)

What about one where fem! Reader takes care of Mizu when she’s injured or just back from a long day (stitching wounds, massaging hands and stuff when she’s sore, preparing her favorite meals, etc.)?

And then when she finally convinces Mizu to come to bed for the night, Reader holds her to her chest and just lets her focus on her heartbeat while she helps her relax and fall asleep.

Just overall fluff, y’know?

Hope this request is okay!

remnants of firewood and steel.

Pairings: mizu x fem!reader

CW: sfw, female reader, descriptions of wounds idfk, girls kissing oh no, wlw, shy mizu my beloved, uhm idk she gets naked but not in a sexual way you little grabby hand freaks, obv lemme put that more formally lol, nudity, mizu being my lil cutie patootie blinded by revenge, someone send me back to 1657 please I need to hold this woman so bad, ik this has nothing to do with him but can I beat the fuck out of mikio thanks, number one mikio hater and number one mizu lover, not proofread.

A/N: ok so I do have a mizu fic saved with this exact banner if the author of the fic finds this I DIDNT STEAL UR BANNER I FOUND IT ON PINTEREST PLS DONT EXECUTE ME anyway FIRST FIC OF 2025 YAY mizu deserves the world pleasee i remembered in ep 5 when mikio’s fugly ass said that she liked dried mackerel and I can’t stop thinking about that she’s so cute I’m sobbing🕯️

A quiet hiss sizzled through the tense push of Mizu’s teeth grit together as your fingertips grazed the seeping wound gashed along her forearm. Carefully examining the split ends of skin patterned down to halt at her wrist, the cool air pelting against the wood of the door to your shared home spilled through a small crevice cracked open in exposure to the interior warmth.

Each sweep of the frigid breeze fanning against your flesh only served to ease the discomfort wrenching in you upon hearing your girlfriend’s strained sounds of agony from the sunken wound embedded into her arm, followed by a sharp exhales expelled from her lungs each time she withstood the pain of you stitching each wound slit across her body closed. Mizu only groaned in response to your futile effort to minimize the sting of the needle protruding through her flesh, as the string threaded across the reddened opening searing the exposed muscle.

“Mizu, what did I tell you? You can’t keep being reckless and get hurt like this.” You scolded her firmly as you closed up the scarring of her stitched wound, trying your best to shut your mind and disregard her pained expression. It already hurt you enough seeing the wounds adorned across her skin as a grim reminder of every battle, every ache twisted into her chest in the gruesome state of her physical and emotional fights, lingering along with the tainting stains of her past betrayal.

Only a defeated hum vibrated against the bandages circled around her throat, your hand momentarily rising to carefully tug at the plastering utilized to mask her lack of an adam’s apple. Your irises, now harboring a softer, more hazed flicker outlined around them in a sense of tenderness tilted up to meet Mizu’s own, silently inquiring her permission to tug off the bandages. The ripples of air continued to draw inward like a disruption cutting the warmth of your home, inducing an odd tranquility within the thick atmosphere clouding the air in a mix with the trailing smoke.

“How did you get hurt this badly again?” You muttered in a gentler tone than before, eyes locked onto her unfeeling expression as you carefully unwrapped the bandages tightened against her skin. Your hands trailed down to the base of her neck as they cascaded down onto the floor, carefully kneading her skin in a heartfelt massage.

“Just got ambushed by what I assume to be someone sent by Fowler again.” She sighs, allowing the bandages to fall loosely down her chest and pool onto the floor, similarly to a downpour of blood spilling from an enemy’s throat. You drew in a breath as you nodded in response, carefully pushing aside the bandages curled up onto the wooden floorboards while you rested the ridge of your palm against Mizu’s sweat-laced throat. “Still won’t get off your ass?”

Mizu huffed out a quiet laugh, folding up the orange tinted glasses between her fingertips as she set them atop the pool of bandages tucked away to the side. Reaching up, you proceeded to caress the side of her face smoothly, palm running along her defined cheekbones while she tilted her head to lean into the gesture of clinging attachment, tugging at the center of both of your hearts in a loving connection that wordlessly tied you two together at the shoulder.

You beckoned her to lay back comfortably rather than to strain herself by kneeling before you, her knees likely aching as the chafed against the hard wooden floors. With a benign push to her shoulder, Mizu leisurely reclined down onto her discarded kimono sprawled out below her, her back weighing against the pressure applied to the freshly closed wounds slashed along her spine as well. Her eyes narrowed in the meantime while you kept away from her for a short while, fixing a beverage off to the side while she was flat against her back, shoulders relaxed and lowered to press onto the hard lined wood.

The simple home she shared with you, isolated from the whereabouts of large urban areas around Japan, fostered the calming, homely serenity of where she had grown up with Master Eiji. Close to, yet distanced from Kohama. Remnants of the familiar scent of burning firewood and steel seemed to float around in a ghostly sense, despite the charcoal fueled shadow of metal remaining nowhere to be seen in your home.

On top of the racing memories swirling around her thoughts, replaying echo after echo of her past recounting her life up to this point, she always found refuge within the grasp of your arms whenever you held her close to your chest, heartbeat thudding against the shell of her ear in rhythmic, yet soft knocks. Not only did the gesture soothe her with an audible memoir of her lover’s presence, reminding her that she was currently loved and held in the grasp of the woman she cared for most…

It also reminded her that you were still alive.

The remnants of firewood and steel, the salty odor of fish on occasions when you cooked it, even the smoke floating from the dim lighting of the candle alongside your presence was the heartfelt reminder that you were still there with her. And she swore to protect you to her limit, or die trying.

A mellow aroma began to waft through the air in a snaking path of steam, dispersing across the enclosed space to induce a rush soothing Mizu’s tense muscles and your own cluttered thoughts. Her eyes flickered down to the sight of your hands held out as they curled inward in a cusp, carefully grasping the porcelain teacup you spent a fortune on from the time you had visited Edo.

Steam continued to arise from the hot tea rippling in a pattern of emanating rings expanding from the center and dissolving around the edges while you kept blowing away the steam fogging up your line of sight. Mizu shakily elevated herself from the kimono bedding her back, hand shielding her wound to avoid any possible risk of the flesh tearing open again.

Now half dressed—left in nothing but her harem pants and chest binding, she slowly parted her lips to taste the aroma for a brief moment, clamping them back shut as you knelt before her to extend your arms in her direction. She couldn’t help it. There was something about seeing you face to face which enveloped her whole body in an intoxicating warmth she didn’t want to escape from. The burning urge to cup your face and press a solid kiss directly onto your lips right in that moment.

A shame she had to restrain herself to suppress that humanity she craves that she could wallow in. She couldn’t cling to that sliver of hope that she could live normally…not when she was so dead set on killing the remaining three.

Mizu greatfully accepted the cup in both hands, allowing the sleek porcelain to slip between her palms as she brought the steaming rim to her lower lip. You watched intently as she sipped the tea, clicking her tongue against the roof of her mouth as she savored the flavor of the hot beverage. Clearing her throat, Mizu commented on the taste, albeit a bit hesitantly as you could tell by the embarrassment which you learned to pick up on throughout the course of your relationship.

“…could you make it sweeter..?”

“I thought someone so coldly powerful and unfeeling preferred a more bitter note in her tea?”

“Please, (Name)…do you get off on assuming these things while im on here unable to swallow without it hurting?”

“Ah- right. Your injuries…sorry, love.” you mused, taking the cup back to add the hint of saccharine the samurai oh-so-desperately wanted. “While you’re at it…take everything off while you sleep. I don’t want you to feel constricted by any clothing—especially those bindings on your chest. It’s not good for your breathing.” You added while fixing her tea, earning a subtle nod from Mizu as she tugged at the waistband of her pants, pointer finger testing the elasticity.

While she disrobed, another pungent smell stung her nostrils sharply, yet it didn’t take long for her to pick up on the familar scent of a snack she quite enjoyed. Salty. A metallic yet earthy odor clinging to the back of her throat as she took in the smell.

“Dried mackerel?”

You smiled at her question, giving her a brisk nod before setting the cup back down before her now fully bare frame. Mizu’s toned arms gleamed a gentle gold from the faint candlelight, her slender yet muscular form encompassed in the captivating glow of orange gold. She could only manage a weak smile in response as you handed her a bowl of the dried fish she secretly adored, alongside the newly sweetened tea, basking in the gentle fuzzy feeling overtaking you upon seeing your usually stoic girlfriend genuinely happy.

—

“Was there a need for you to take everything off too…? You’re not injured, (Name).”

You simply shrugged as you rolled over beside her on the heaping futon, noticing her gaze avert from yours bashfully. Cupping her cheek, you firmly turn her head towards you, yet lacking any forceful action, allowing her head to turn along with the motions of your hand guiding her. Those bright blue eyes boring into you with a heightened intensity—cutting through the flesh and bone spiritually and ingraining into your very soul as it burrowed deep within the wisp of your heart.

A symbol of her impurity and ‘filth ridden’ origins that outcasted her from the rest of society, kicking her off to the side like some stray. Yet to you, they were only a beauty to behold. An impurity you yearned and longed for, the metal of a sword that required a hammering that retained some of that impurity. The fire in her edge was almost perfect, despite the monstrosity she saw in herself everytime she looked.

The monstrosity in which you wished you help her see was perfect.

You exhaled a gentle breath as you pressed your shoulder to Mizu’s, the skin to skin contact emitting a sort of raw affection ignited between the two of you as you sought more of the gentle heat. Her fingers hesitantly crept up between yours as your hand rested between your chest and hers, your own fingers quickly clasping her hand tightly as you laced your own fingers without a second thought.

Mizu blinked, breath catching in her throat as you brought your joined hands to your left breast, resting the back of your knuckles against your skin comfortably. Your heart. Her hand was on your heart. Thousands of questions began to conjure up in her supposedly resting mind, not being able to believe the sight before her as she took notice of your steady breaths.

That wasn’t enough proof.

Was your heart still beating..? She couldn’t feel it through your palm…

You noticed the change in her demeanor in a matter of seconds, your head lifting from the edge of the futon to pay attention to her seemingly frozen self.

“Mizu..? Is something-?”

“Your…heartbeat.” She breathed out, fighting back the quivering tension plaguing her throat. You were all to familar with when she got like this, so exhausted to the point where she believed that everything around her was playing tricks, the one time she was left especially vulnerable in need of your support.

You nodded, leaning over to capture her lips in a slow, languid kiss as you attempted to ease her stress. Hand traveling to her nape, you brushed away her now loose hair, flowing past her shoulders whenever she undid the bunched up topknot. In a nurturing embrace, you slowly guided Mizu’s head down to your bare chest, illuminated by the filtered moonlight as the blown out candle’s smoke continued to float through the air.

Gentle breaths accompanied the steady thuds of your heart pushing against your chest with each pulse, slowly relaxing the built up anxiety raging throughout Mizu’s mind. The vibrations of your heart pulsating within your chest rang along her ear as well, gradually lulling her to sleep in comfortable solace, knowing that you’re still alive.

You were still alive. You were with Mizu, and loved her with all you had.

A/N: I was supposed to post this on January 1st absolutely not lmfaoooo but shh anyway I have no authors note other than I’m in love with mizu agagagaga sorry guys leaked the script for the end of the show she actually marries me

AND DONT YOU DARE ANY OF YOU TRY FIGHTING ME ON THAT SAYINF “uhm no it’s actually me!! SHUT UP I GET IT NOW LEAVE ME ALONE AND STOP REFUTING MY CLAIM WE CAN SHARE OUR BELOVED SAMURAI DONT BE GREEDY

someone get her brown contacts for those baby blues I’m shaking

[archangeldyke-all]

ever since you posted pregnant sev a few days ago it’s all i’ve been thinking about… could we maybe get another lactation kink with sev but she’s the one lactating this time??? thank you and your beautiful brain…

anon reveal yourself so i can marry you for this...

men and minors dni

you quietly pad down the hallway. all three of your girls are finally asleep, and you really don't want to wake them again on a creaky floorboard.

sevika chuckles from her spot on the couch when she watches you come slowly, carefully tipetoeing out into the living room.

"i think they're down for the night." you whisper as you crawl onto the couch and nuzzle into her side.

sevika hums, wrapping her arms around you. you start a gentle trail of kisses down her neck, no real destination in mind, just enjoying the way she's melting into the couch at your touch.

quickies have become the status quo for you and sevika with three kids running around. but every night, you and sevika will do this. just... lay on the couch together, holding one another for about an hour-- nothing on the tv, no music, just you two.

sometimes, like now, you kiss. sometimes you gossip and laugh and chat. most nights though, it's just the two of you humming happily as you soak in the feeling of one another after a long day.

sevika sighs underneath you and pinches your hip. "we're gonna have to readjust. i gotta pump and dump-- silco talked me into a drink at lunch, and my tits are killing me." she says.

you giggle and kiss her cheek before getting up. "i'll get it. stay here."

the kitchen is a mess, you'll have to talk sevika into helping you tackle the dishes after your cuddle session. you start now, gathering and stacking dishes by the sink, starting a hot water soak on the nasty looking ones.

you find the breast pump in a mixing bowl with leftover waffle batter scraped on the sides. sevika must've tossed her pump in it after pumping this morning at breakfast.

"baby." you huff as you walk back into the living room. sevika nods up at you. "your pump's dirty. gotta wash and sanitize it. come talk with me in the kitchen." you request.

sevika pouts and kicks her foot a bit. "i want my cuddles." she whines.

you grin. "you're spending too much time with the kids." sevika rolls her eyes and makes grabby hands for you. you snort as you crawl back on top of your wife. she winces a bit as you settle down on top of her tits, and you try your best not to put too much pressure on them.

sevika's tits have always been shockingly sensitive, in both good and bad ways. good, like you can make her cum with a few well placed kisses, sucks and pinches on her nipples. bad, like her tits are always killing her on her period, and when one of the twins bites while they're eating, sevika nearly passes out in pain.

"fuck, i'm sore." sevika huffs.

you pout, reaching your hands under your wife's back to unclasp her bra for her. she sighs in relief, and you settle back on top of her. it's quiet for a few minutes, your breaths becoming synchronized, sevika's hands tracing patterns on your back.

then, sevika starts to squirm a bit. her heartbeat picks up in her chest, you can hear it where you're resting your head against her. her breath gets just a little shaky, and when she gulps, you finally look down at your wife with a teasing glance. "you okay?"

sevika's got a pretty blush on her cheeks. "uh." she whispers. you raise an eyebrow at her and she huffs. "remember when you had the little fucker?" she asks.

you snort and nod. "yeah something about that rings a bell..." you tease. sevika pinches your ass and you giggle.

"r-remember how..." she trails off.

"how?"

"how when you'd get clogged or sore or too full of milk i'd..."

you grin down at your wife, and she shivers at the sight. "you want me to take care of you baby?" you ask, already unbuttoning her shirt.

sevika's gulp echoes through the silent house, and she nods, clenching the cushions under her. "please?" she whispers.

you groan, swooping down to kiss your wife as you tear her shirt open and help her take her bra off her arms.

sevika's tits have grown a few cup sizes since the babies' arrival, and right now they're even more swollen. "fuck." you whisper.

you reach up and take her tits in your hands, gently pushing them together. sevika's legs twine around your hips and pull your clothed crotch against hers. you watch in fascination as a single bead of milk forms on her nipple, then slides down her tit onto your hand.

"how quick do you think you'll cum?" you ask, pinching her nipple and giggling as a little stream of milk spurts out and lands on your shirt. sevika whimpers.

"fuck off, would you just--" sevika thrusts her chest up closer to you.

you grin. "how long have you been thinking about me doing this to you, love?" you ask.

sevika's face goes bright red, and she slings a hand around the back of your neck and pulls you down to her chest as her response.

you just laugh as you suck her nipple into her mouth, both of you moaning as she starts to leak onto your tongue.

fuck she tastes good. her milk is sweet, and the sounds she's letting out are even sweeter. she's got her arms wrapped around you like a koala, clinging onto you, a hand in your hair, the other tangled in your shirt.

each time you let a tiny grunt or moan out against her tits, sevika squeaks. when you start swirling your tongue around her nipple, she starts grinding against your cunt.

and when you reach up with your free hand to grop her other tit roughly, sevika has to stuff her fist in her mouth to muffle her orgasm.

her milk starts to slow down, so you switch tits, massaging the one you'd just abandoned, making a fucking mess of your hand and her chest and the couch-- but you're both way too far gone to give a shit about that now.

"baby." sevika growls. you gently graze your teeth over her nipple and she pulls your hair harshly. "fuck!" she cries. you moan, nuzzling even harder against her tit, lapping up every drop of her that you can. you're about two seconds from cumming in your pants, and when sevika whispers "wanted this since i first did it to you," you do.

she giggles a bit as you fall apart, but with the way you muffle your grunts and moans against her, she can't get more than a few laughs out before she's moaning and cumming again.

when you pull away to gasp in a breath of air, you almost pass out at how fucking hot sevika looks underneath you.

soaked in her own milk and your drool, her tits aren't quite as plump as they were before, but her nipples are engorged. she's heaving for air, and she's red from her cheeks to her collarbone.

"fuck, sev, look at you."

"you're doing that to me every time i need to pump and dump from now on." she sighs happily, blinking up at you with stars in her eyes.

you snort and kiss her. "you've got yourself a fuckin' deal, baby. now; you wanna do the dishes or clean the couch?"

sevika whines like a child again, and you kiss her just to shut her up.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@shimtarofstupidity @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette

@ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re @raphaellearp

@iamastar @sevikitty @claude999 @nhaaauyen

[slutforfictionalwomen]

Gotta learn the consequences

Kinktober day 4

Natasha Romanoff x Fem Reader

Main kinks: Pain kink, breeding kink, daddy kink

Word count: 1,2K

Summary: Natasha is convinced that Reader broke a rule, which has its consequences.

Warnings: Smut, cum filled strap, daddy kink, pet names, manipulative Natasha, breeding kink, spanking, pain kink.

(Please tell me if I missed anything)

POV Reader

The mall is loud as I compare two bracelets, so I can ask Natasha to get me one. I don't have my own card after all, Natasha makes the money so it belongs to her. I depend on her money, so I belong to her as well. I choose the bracelet with red stones that has a black cat jewel on it and turn to ask Natasha, but she's nowhere in my view.

I anxiously pace around the store, bracelet in hand. I look for Natasha everywhere, but when I don't find her I decide that she has probably just gone to the toilet or in a fitting room. I wait patiently, but she doesn't come.

After about five minutes of aimlessly pacing around the store, waiting for Natasha to come get me, I see the red-haired woman walking up to me with a quick step. I happily walk up to her, but then I see the expression on her face. She's furious.

"You know you're supposed to stay close to me at the mall! I almost lost you! What, do you want me to put you on a leash next time?" She grabs me by the collar of my shirt, tugging me with her, aiming for the exit.

"I'm sorry, Natty. I didn't mean to. One minute, you were next to me, the other you were gone." I catch up to her fast pace, now walking next to her instead of behind.

Natasha doesn't look at me. She just keeps walking toward the car park. "You still broke the rules, now you're going to face the consequences."

~

"Natasha, please!" I whine when she half throws me onto the couch. I know I have been bad in her narrrative, but I really didn't intend to.

"You know why this needs to happen, baby. And you also know what to call me in this situation, that just earned you an extra five." She unties my shoes and carefully takes them off, still taking on a nurturing role. Next to be taken off are my black, wide jeans (which she picked out for me a week ago).

"I'm sorry, daddy." I wait until Natasha sits down and pats her lap. When she does, I lie down with my butt up facing her.

"Good girl, now count." Her flat hand strikes my ass cheek, and I yelp out.

"One," I whine. It's soon followed by another smack. "Two," there is a shiver in my voice.

~

"Seventeen!" I cry out. Tears are streaming down my face. Natasha has heavily picked up the strength in her strikes, making me struggle to keep still on her lap.

"You're such a good pet. Are you going to be obedient from now on? Am I teaching you a lesson?" Natasha strikes another time.

"Eightteen! Yes, daddy, I'll be better." The words leave my mouth in sobs. I wish she understood that I really didn't intend to leave her side, I actually didn't notice her wandering off.

The last two are done soon. Now her hands are rubbing my bottom with lotion, the aftercare she always uses. At first, it stung. I know it does, it always does, but it still makes me jump every time. After the first few rubs, I relax into her touch, like always. My eyes flutter shut, my head resting itself on the couch.

I groan when after a few minutes of massaging, her fingers venture down to my soaked pussy. "Oh baby, you're all wet and sticky. I think that means I'm gonna have to take care of you." Natasha's fingers start to rub my clit up and down firmly, knowing my body well enough to know that's only teasing me. I whimper and buck my hips once.

"Mhm! Please, daddy." I know what game she's playing, and I'm playing right into it. I sigh when the firm rubs turn into soft cirlcles.

"Please what, pretty girl?" She chuckles softly, keeping up the pattern on my bundle of nerves.

I squirm in frustration. "Please make me cum!" Suddenly, Natasha stops. I cry out, I'm way too needy to deal with this. Natasha stands up, lifting me up with her arms. She puts me back on the couch in the same position as mere seconds ago, but now without herself.

"When I come back, I want to have you all naked with that pretty red ass up." That's the last thing she says before walking away.

~

When Natasha comes back, I am indeed in the position she asked from me. She gets behind me on the couch, leaning over me to kiss my back.

"Good girl. Now, I will make you cum. But you will get loads of mine, and you will take it. You're gonna take it, and carry my baby, like the good little slut you are." I don't think I have ever heard her voice this dark before. I get a bit nervous, even though I know she can't get me pregnant. It also turns me on.

"You can take it without stretching, right?" I don't even have time to answer before she thrusts into me, making me yelp out. Her hips go at a quick pace, meeting mine. At this point, it's fast, but not hard.

"Are you gonna take it like a good girl? Are you gonna take my cum? Let me impregnate you?" Her hand ventures down to my breasts, her other hand on my hips. When she starts playing with my nipple, it makes me whimper softly. A shock of arousal travels down to my belly.

Suddenly, I'm being flipped around. She barely even pulls out of me and immediately starts pounding again. "We couldn't have the cum leaking out of your pussy, couldn't we?" Natasha forces one of my legs up, my thigh to my belly. Her hand starts to play with my clit, which has me bucking up to meet her thrusts.

I glance down to see the fake cock sliding in and out of me, a soft moan escapes my mouth. I feel my orgasm building.

"Oh, you like seeing that, little slut? I'll sure take a mental note of that." Natasha starts thrusting harder into me.

"Daddy, I'm gonna cum!" I cry out when it's almost too late.

"Cum for me." I hear the grin in her voice,she has something planned.

When I cum hard, a liquid shoots into me. It came so unexpectedly that it makes me scream. I buck my hips, but Natasha pushes them down, squeezing more artificial cum into my pussy.

When she pulls out, she immediately covers my pussy with her hand. "We can't have any of my cum running out, can we?"

~

Half an hour later, I'm in the bath. Natasha is rubbing soap all over my body, making sure that I get entirely clean. Of course, I love the way Natasha fucks me. The way she makes me scream. But I think I love the way she takes care of me even more.

[eatommo]

Take it off [d.d.]{kd10}

Face sitting / lingerie

Cw: mutual pining, helmet comes off, porn with feelings, lingerie, kissing, implied oral sex

He walks into the room tired, exhausted from a long multi-jump flight shaking some Imperial remnant tracking you and the child across the galaxy. Your voice is a welcome sound, it soothes some of his mental burdens and reminds him of the small glimmer of happiness he always feel around you. I sit on the bed ready to talk the night away, not taking much noticing that you are wearing one of his cloaks.

Hyperspace is cold, and he’s grown used to the idea of you dancing and moving around the cabin in his T-shirts or even his underclothes in warmer weather, so what’s the difference of you wearing his cloak when you’re cold?

The difference is that you’re wearing an elegant lingerie set you got on a city planet. Secretly obtaining it by wondering off in lieu of needing a caf. Din isn’t one to ask a lot of questions, at least not while you’re wondering about looking for information or a bounty, but when you get him safe and comfortable on the ship it’s a whole other story.

You’ve quickly found out his rough and tumble life has made him an excellent fighter, his attention to detail makes him an even better lover, but he’s never been able to enjoy the joys of having a steady partner.

He’s found the late night conversations are some of the best parts, laying next to each other in his bunk with your legs tangled together, touching each other innocently at first opening up about how much he wishes he could have, about how much pain he’s suffered, and about the burdens he carries in his heart.

So you thought you’d be able to treat him to a small albeit somewhat selfish (knowing the absolutely deranged fucking you were going to get) gift after such a long complicated fight for freedom.

The cloak is warm, but you know once his flight suit comes off he will be just as warm too. “Tired baby?” You coo, standing just a foot or so away from his arms reach.

“Not too terribly,” he hesitated for a moment before admitting, “I somehow missed you while we were on the same ship.”

You can hear a little of the confession catch in his throat, he still gets nervous to talk about your undefined relationship. “I missed you too, you do such a good job keeping us safe.” You clear your throat a little, the anticipation already making your voice hoarse. “I thought I could surprise you to say thanks”

The helmet tilts, not entirely catching on to what is happening, you slide a hand across your chest, pushing one shoulder of the cloak down revealing just the straps and the top of the lace cups sitting beautifully on your skin.

“I want to show you what someone who cares about you can do to make you feel better.” You let the other should have the cloak fall but catch it just above your belly button, hearing him to take a sharp loud breath as your breasts come into full view.

You lean forward, changing the angle ever so slightly to reveal more of your skin. If you looked close enough at the helmet, you were sure you could see him thinking at lightspeed. You hold the bundle of fabric around your waist still concealing the lower even more skimpy portion of the set and let it fall to the floor.

It’s a lacy, barely there thong, you were sure if you shifted wrong you would slip right out of it.

He gently grabs your thighs and starts to caress them. Feeling the lace and the soft skin beneath it, starting to slowly move his hands and arms up towards your waist, taking in every detail of your skin beneath the intricate lace pattern, feeling every soft spot as his hands moves up your belly all the way to your chest, then back down to rest on your hips.

“Oh… I want to take this off so bad.” He slips his thumbs under both of the sides brushing across your skin softly but his other fingers dig slightly into the flesh of your ass.

“You can,” you start, taking a half step towards him and leaning slightly to whisper in the crook of his neck, “that’s the best part.”

His embrace changes suddenly, his arms sliding around you and herding you into his lap, and when his hands meet behind you the lights in the cabin fade to black, controlled by the remote on his vambrace.

You slide against him, settling against his lap pressed so firmly against him the edges of his thigh plates dig into your skin. His hands flutter up your back and disappear.

You hear a hiss and a thud, and with a still beat of your heart you realize his helmet is off. You’ve only partially seen him off with it once, it was a long time ago but you remembered so much about that night, and the sound of that hiss has been such a huge part of your fantasies, your heart skipped back into an impossibly fast pace.

You feel his warmth, inches from his face and the possibility of kissing him is very real and suddenly your confidence waivers. His hands find your face, pulling you in for a kiss, his lips are soft and you feel the roughness of facial hair as the kiss deepens.

He smoothes a thumb on your jaw, urging you to keep kissing him becoming dizzy with the sensation. His hand traces down your spine, feeling the delicate fabric against your skin before undoing it to expose you to him fully.

He continues to kiss you passionately as he feels your skin, the lace is off, and he starts to lay down on the bed still holding you on top of him, hands moving up and down your back and waist.

“You’re soft…. Delicate… beautiful. I can’t stop touching you” his kisses go down on your neck, “I don’t even want to stop kissing you.”

You tilt your head his lips are gentle yet sinful, leaving fire in their wake. “You don’t have to,” you feel his kisses venture to the tops of your breasts, voice dripping with desire “you can kiss me anywhere Din.”

“Mm be careful what you ask for Mesh’la.” He starts kissing your neck a bit more passionately, caressing your back and waist with warm hands, pulling you closer. His kisses start going lower down your neck. You feel my breath on your chest getting hotter and heavier as my kisses continue lower.

His hands reach your waist, pulling the scrap of lace off you and lifting your hips in an impressive display of strength. The idea of sitting on his face is certainly welcome, if not a little nerve wracking, he hasn’t even kissed you before today and now he wants you in a carnal, primal way.

You long to touch him, but he bats your hands away. “I’ll get my turn later, let me taste you.” You hear his boots shift along the floor he scoots further down on the bed, moving into position until the soft skin of your thighs is tickled by the stubble you are trying to fit into the puzzle of his face in your mind, before it’s scrambled by the warmth of his breath on your core.