#but no one is reblogging it so it falls flat on its face

[seraphdreams]

GOT MILK? | TOJI FUSHIGURO.

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 — synopsis. what happens when you invite an unexpected guest into your home? lucky for you, this one cares about your health!

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 — cw. fem!reader / milkman!toji, smut, cliche porn trope, size kink, coercion, food play, a bit prey/predator dynamics, 1950s-esque setting, toji’s huge, unprotected “love-making”, mdni <3.

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 — word count. 3.3k

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 — dolled up! it’s been a while, hasn’t it? i’m so so sorry i’ve been away from writing :( but trust me, we’re so back !! this is actually my first full length toji fic n i’m so excited 4 you all to read it . . i wanted to keep it light and cliche for all of our pleasure. this took me about two months to write on n off, but !! if you like this n enjoy it, please comment / reblog ! i’ll make you all a glass of seraph’s special milk, thank u ♡ a big shoutout 2 @gh4ul for beta reading ! i love u so muchie!!

fluorescent shimmers of the setting sun pierced through your living room window, beyond pastel curtains, and onto the curvature of your face as if the sun itself used you like its own canvas while you lounged upon the couch. soft murmurs of whichever television show you had fallen asleep watching hummed within the four thin walls of your flat, creating the perfect ambiance for a peaceful late afternoon nap.

it wasn’t as though you had done much during the day, aside from indulging in your boredom with the mundane baking of cookies, taking two batches to get right, alongside tidying your room.

although currently, you slept soundly in a way that came off as daunting to others; torso clad in a thin tank top paired with little pink shorts that could’ve been mistaken for underwear by any onlooker, with your hand rested just below your abdomen, chest rising and falling in the most harmonious synchronicity.

vulnerable, like prey unknowing of its predator.

fortunately, the neighborhood you resided in was safe. some sweet suburban city where everyone knew each other more than they knew themselves, and the thought of anything being remotely out of place sent residents into a frenzy. it was innocuous to assume that not much out of the ordinary took place. or that was the case, until —

knock, knock.

“delivery for y/n?”

stirring in your sleep, you prayed that the owner of the baritone voice that had woken you up was just some figment of your imagination, some effect of unintended lucid dreaming perhaps. yet, upon blinking open unfocused, bleary eyes, and the loud couplet of knocks on the door following soon after, you were pulled out of dreamland and into the vexing reality.

three more firm knocks paired with a gruff tone calling out flatly, “delivery,” was enough to have your body sashaying involuntarily to your front door.

whoever was outside was insinstently persistent. if they had thought to put even an ounce more strength into those compact knocks, your door would have been long gone by now.

“coming!” the dulcet tone of your voice was riddled with exhaustion and you were unsure if the sound had resonated with the stranger on the other end, your internal query being answered once the relentless abuse of your front door had ceased.

you had ignored the fabric of your meager top, not quite noticing the way the strap so slightly dropped from your shoulder, leaving such a beautiful expanse of skin exposed to, and for, anyone. swiftly, you had opened the door for your unexpected visitor.

there, stood some dark haired man, taller and bigger than any other man you’ve known in the neighborhood. he must have had to be over 6’0, with a stature so broad, chiseling muscles barely hidden underneath the thin fabric of his uniform. his white hat tilted upward, and as your eyes descended, you caught his matching suit worn just a bit too taut. it was as if the first two buttons of his shirt were hanging on for dear life to cover what massive mounds his chest was. not to mention, how his thighs were close to breaking free from their confines.

to the right of the struggling buttons, sat a little pin that read “toji.”

he didn’t put any effort into a friendly introduction, the only hint of expression you could trace was the furrowing of his brows at his forehead as he gave you an unreadable stare.

“was told to drop this off here.” toji spoke. he held out a small wired basket with two glass jars of white liquid, seeming to be milk. maybe it had been your fuzzy, half-awake mind, and what little thoughts were up there, but you couldn’t recall a time where you had placed an order for some strange fluid.

was it a thing the neighborhood would do every once in a while?

as you rubbed the sleep from your eyes and gave the handsome stranger a soft pout, you spoke airily. “what’s in the jar, sir?”

his demeanor shifted into pure displeasure, not fancying the query your hollow brain came up with. it remained undoubtedly clear that he wasn’t the most amiable of folks.

“it’s milk, darling.”

“i didn’t order any milk, sorry.” that same pout remained on your lips as you shook your head for the milkman to end a seemingly quick conversation, but just as you were about to close the door back, the pressure of his strong hand against the wood made your attempt futile.

to your surprise, a miniscule smirk was evident on his scarred features. “no?” his narrowed eyes drank you in from the bottom up as if you were lemonade on a scorching summer’s day. those same eyes skillfully darting from the spill of your breasts in your little top, up to your pretty pursed lips and doe-like orbs.

anyone could tell from a mile away what type of girl you were — the type that toji devilishly enjoys.

it wasn’t often he was presented with a doll such as yourself. sure, he could pick the mind of others increasingly well, could tell just when someone was planning to set him up (like some sort of off-duty criminal) but with you, it was as though not a thought could be lodged behind vacant eyes. everything about you was pure, untainted.

he stepped closer toward you, his foot conveniently placed between the barrier between your home and the outside. “try it for yourself. it’s fresh, and organic.” as he spoke, the glint in his deep gray eyes had overturned into a sly darkness. and when you shook your head at his advance, he only scoffed, peering in closer until he fully stepped foot into your abode.

“oh, c’mon,” vexation laced his tone. “don’t make my job harder than it already is.”

his hauntingly large frame eclipsed yours, the sun casting a backlit shadow behind his silhouette, like something out of a 50’s horror film. at that moment, you were in no position to deny his simple request.

it was just milk, perhaps he wanted an honest review.

your eyes met his, and you swallowed thickly as you hoped that courage would fill the void in the pit of your stomach. “how much for a glass?” softly, your question floated in tense air. a smirk upticks on his face as he reaches into the basket, holding up the larger jar of the two settled in the basket.

“for you, it’s free of charge.”

maybe you should’ve questioned the insubstantial value, for nothing in this economy was truly ever free.

you take the bottle from him, popping open the lid and taking a sip. the unnerving feeling of greedy eyes caused goosebumps to form over your skin. the liquid certainly had a thicker texture to it, possibly an ode to its organic nature; and as you sipped and sipped, you failed to notice the drippage that rolled amply down the side of your mouth to your chest. toji, however, caught sight of it — because, of course he did.

after you had your sample size, you took a manicured thumb to glossy lips, wiping your bottom lip to collect the remnants before taking your tongue to your thumb to lick up the remains.

in that moment, you reminded him of a kitten, some meek animal vastly trusting of the others in its environment.

his smirk grew wider and he closed the door behind him as he stepped closer, now merely a few inches away from your figure. “oh, but miss,” his voice full with anything but a genuine concern for you, he traced his finger along the trail of milk that lingered at your chest. “you missed a spot.”

his sudden touch startled you in such a way that shifted your body to jolt once you felt his cool fingertips. that same motion forced you to completely forget about the open jar in your hand, accidentally spilling an even larger amount of milk all over yourself in the process.

drenched in the liquid, your top became practically see-through with only the sight of your pert nipples showing underneath. it's candy for the eye, toji’s at least.

“you gonna keep that on, princess? you’ll catch a cold.” his voice feigns concernment towards you, as if he pitied the pathetic state he put upon you. in that moment, sheepishness clouds your empty head, and if you could cower away, you would; but instead, you took him up on his suggestion, turning your back to him and doing away with the thin barrier.

“gimme a minute to change.” you shyly said as you looked back at him with a hand barely covering your chest.

how cute you were, so willing to invite a stranger into your home and even strip for him — were you always this welcoming?

before you could scuttle to your room, you felt a firm grip on your arm. toji, now clearly having fun with you, had given you a menacing smirk along with a tsk of his tongue. “you’re still all wet,” he turned you back around to face him in one swift motion. “let me clean you off.” his hand slowly trailed up your arm and to the swell of your breasts where he cupped one in his large, calloused palm. the feeling of his rough fingertips over your bare skin caused you to break out in a shudder. “s-sir, i don’t think..”

he shushed you the moment his thumb rolled over your hard nipple, milk still dripping down your skin. with one hand, he pulled you in tight by your waist, and with the other, he aided himself in wrapping his lips around your nipple. you could only describe his touch as hungry, rough as if the opportunity to take advantage of your vulnerability would slip away into thin air. he locked steel grey eyes with you as he did so. once he got his fill of toying with your sensitive mounds, he switched his sucking motions into little bites.

his deep groans and your soft whines filled the space instantaneously. he’d rotate from one breast to the other until he felt you growing weak in his hold, the squeeze of your thighs telling him everything he needed to know about your desire. and when he felt satisfied with the level at which he teased you, he unlatched.

it felt as if all air had rushed out of your system from the raspy whines you had let out during his ministrations. you took a moment to catch your breath and regain composure as he stood up tall to his original position.

oddly enough, comfortability grew within you, possibly the adrenaline of a handsome stranger feeding your mind with illicit thoughts. “am i all clean now?” your voice comes out shaky, feeble with lust, and as your eyes scanned his formidable appearance, down to the bulge that left his sheer size to anything but the imagination, you grew greedier.

“squeaky fucking clean.” his response comes off as a growl. “how about some real milk as a reward, sweetheart?”

you tilted your head, as a confused puppy would, looking up at him with spacey eyes. “real milk? i thought i was just drinking it?” he smiled at your perplexity, finding you too cute to let go. “that milk,” he pointed at the bottle you set on the counter beside you. “isn’t as organic as it claims. you need the real thing in ya.”

toji fumbles with his belt buckle, unfastening it until he could comfortably whip his cock out. you had never seen something so large, so girthy that it instilled a blend of fear and excitement within you. “on your knees, pretty thing.” he demanded. “gotta make sure my girl grows big and strong.”

you complied, obviously. when someone as sturdy as him tells you to do something, it’s only natural that you do it.

with your weight now rested on your knees, your job was easy. you wrapped a feeble hand around the base of his cock, mouth agape in bewilderment that he could barely fit in the cusp of your hand. toji let out a hiss under his breath once your hand began to diligently slide up and down his shaft. slick dribbled into the rapture of your enclosed fist from just how turned on he was. as you continued to teasingly pump him, your tongue darted to place gentle kitten licks paired with tender kisses to his angry tip. “you’re real confident now, aren’t ya?” he goads, though not necessarily in a mirthful manner.

a soft pout forms at your lips upon hearing his words, urging you to increase your pace by a minuscule amount. once you had gotten familiar with the monster in your palm, you wrapped your lips around the head, slowly inching yourself down his shaft until your nose met the unruly hairs of his pelvis. he was heavy in your jaw, a telltale sign that you’d end up with a strong ache that’d take days to soothe; and the throb of his length only led to the gush in your panties.

as you began to bob your head, toji threw his head back, large hands gripping at your jaw to keep you nice and puckered for him. the sensation of his plush tip bullying the back of your throat causes you to moan, a sound, and a feeling, that toji doesn't miss. you pick up your rhythm, but shortly after, toji starts up his; slamming his cock into your unexpecting mouth with no remorse.

rough ministrations urged you to gag until you came to ignore the feeling and focus on his pleasure, innocent and teary eyes showing through a wall of thick lashes up at him. what a cocky bastard.

“c’mon, you can take more, can’t ya?” he goads, his vocables resonating in a choppy cadence underneath the guise of his groans. “dontcha want milk?”

the mix of saliva and his precum trailed from your mouth as his heavy balls slammed against your chin. you took notice of how his vigorous pace faltered, signally an orgasm just seconds away.

one thrust. two thrust. three.

he’d managed to hold your face to his pelvis as he fucked through his orgasm, a deep groan bellowing through the air while he painted your throat in his seed.

what a liar. he didn’t taste anything like milk.

slowly, he pulls away and spurts the last few drops of cum onto your swollen lips, where he took much needed amusement in your starry eyed gaze.

your heavy pants were like music to his ears, something he wished he could etch into his memory for years to come.

“it’s all messy.” you mewled, licking at the seed that dripped to your lips. his hands were glacial as you felt them on your face while he leaned down to be eye level with you. “oh, i know. lemme take care of that.” he swiped his tongue against your bottom lip, drinking in his own orgasm before taking you into a heated kiss.

it was a brief moment, so brief you were too lightheaded to even realize how he manhandled you into the perfect position — bent over to touch your toes.

he pulled away, roughly tugging at your little shorts until they pooled at your ankles. you felt him slide his cock over your panties just before pushing them to the side to line it up with your slit.

all toji wanted to do in that moment was slide right in, but he knew he couldn’t. you just weren’t wet enough to handle all of him. and besides, he definitely didn’t want to deal with a whining princess suggesting that it “doesn’t fit.”

instead, he slid his sensitive cock between your folds. “gotta get you nice ‘nd ready,” he spoke while reveling in the way that his tip catched at your poor, neglected clit. “feel flattered, i don’t do this for everybody.”

each slide jolted your body as the slightest tinge of pleasure coursed within you. it wasn’t enough to get you feeling close, no, but it was ample in gushing more slick from your hole.

“t-toji, sir, please..” you had let out a soft, vexed sigh at the lack of feeling, wiggling your hips to create friction in any type of way.

it reigned pointless, as most things did with toji. he was too busy focused on the sheen covering his cock from just toying with your angelcunt that whatever nonsense you were spouting was irrelevant to him. he continued his motions until the tightening of your core and fluttering of your pussy told him everything he needed to know.

satisfied with the level at which he teased you, he halted. just before you could fucking cum. you let out a frustrated whine that didn’t mean much to him, agitated by the loss of sensation.

in mere moments, he was pushing himself past your walls, stretching you out while your little cunt struggled to accommodate his size. “w-what if it doesn’t fit..?” you managed to babble out in your pathetic state.

oh, if your nosy neighbors knew that sweet little princess down the street was getting her cunt stretched out by the milkman, they would have a conniption.

toji smirked at your concern, ultimately brushing you off while continuing to urge himself even deeper. “let’s just make it fit then.”

the feeling of being stuffed full was unlike anything you’d experienced in the past. your past partners weren’t much to moan at, but toji? he had you grasping at any surface to give you leverage. as soon as he bottomed out, you could feel the tip rubbing so deliciously against the hollow of your cervix, the tinge of pain going unnoticed from how riddled with desire you were for him. with confirmation that he was fully inside, toji began to set a rough pace, strokes deep and firm enough to have you jolting forward with every thrust.

you scrambled to hold onto anything for dear life, afraid that your knees would grow weak and give out underneath your own weight. though, he kept his hands taut at your hips, only speeding up his potent thrusts to taunt you even more for your lack of stability.

fucked dumb within the first few seconds, drool dribbled past your lip, your eyes rolled into the back of your skull as you tried to take everything you were given.

with the intense way your walls were hugging around his cock, he couldn’t help but let out something of a deep, guttural groan. you had reached behind you to press a feeble hand to his abdomen, hoping it would ease his ministrations, yet your adorable action only caused the opposite.

he took your wrists in his one hand, pulling you up to hit deeper within your walls. “fuck! ‘s too d-deep!” you cried out, that familiar coil of pleasure tightening within your being, and to your dismay, he only held you closer against his chest, other hand gripping at your jaw while his cock milked your gspot for all it’s worth.

“too deep? this too deep for ya?” toji taunts. “i thought you knew how to take dick, you sure looked like it.”

his grip at your face only tighten an ounce more as he waited for whatever nonsense you could muster out.

“i-i can..! i c’n take it!”

only seconds later did your high come crashing down, sending your body into a flutter of shocks. a sensation so perfervid, it had your mind hazy while you creamed all over his cock.

following suit, in a bout of thrusts, toji was painting your insides with his warm wet seed, only pulling out once he felt you go limp in his hold.

“don’t tap out on me now, you haven’t even paid for the milk.”

[junislqve]

athlete bf! enhypen ✶ ot7

꒰ 𝑎 ꒱ how enhypen would be like as your athletic boyfriend.

pairs athlete!bf enhypen x reader content kissing skinship fluff not proofread ( 520 )

REBLOG if you enjoyed — click me.

LEE HEESEUNG — his favorite hobby is kissing you after winning a big game. no matter how many people were watching or if it wasn’t appropriate on school grounds, all he needed was you. “don’t you think i deserve a reward, baby?” flashing his grin at you.

PARK JONGSEONG — it was a tradition for you to attend his games as a ‘good luck charm’. sometimes when you couldn’t attend ones that he won he’d go home sulking anyway, clinging onto you. “you’ll watch my next one, right, babe?” his voice was muffled on your shoulders. his hands and arms were all wrapping around you. your face pushed on his chest. “i need you”

SIM JAEYUN — you thought you were slick when you’d stare at his figure all drenched after football practice. something about when he wipes his face using the hem of his shirt, a sliver of his stomach exposed and his shirt stuck to his body due to sweat had you feeling dizzy. “like what you see?” jake called out from the field, rousing you from your daze, his face split into a sly smile.

PARK SUNGHOON — something you both love more than laying in bed and binging a show is going on impromptu night escapades. or more like hogging the ice skating rink hoon uses at midnight and playing until you both were too tired. whether you were great or terrible at skating, hoon’s hands would never leave your waist, “what if you fall and hurt yourself?” in the end, when you both were about to leave the rink, hoon pulled you back for a sweet kiss, skating off the rink the next second.

YANG JUNGWON — “put your hands below the ball” jungwon’s soft voice traveled through your ears like a melody. you figured your heart was beating way faster than the airplane flying past right above you. won’s hands were gentle on yours, guiding your hands the right way. you felt bad for him, the way he was teaching you so passionately and you could barely focus on anything other than his breathing that fanned over your shoulder. “am i making you nervous?”

KIM SUNOO — “put me down” you shout as sunoo’s grip on you tightened. “hold on, pretty” he said, his hands rubbing your thighs in attempt to calm you. that was all it took for you to shut up and wait for the camera and flash to click. sunoo slowly brought you down from your position with your legs around his neck and you threw him a faux glare. “fuck you and your stupid biceps”

NISHIMURA RIKI — it wasn’t easy to fluster your boyfriend. you’ve tried, plenty of times. if anything, you thought flustering riki would be easy, but when he caught on to what you were doing he made it his mission to not fall into your tricks. “how was practice” riki walked into his flat, dropping his duffel bag on the couch, “it was—“ riki stared back at you when you looked up in confusion. “don’t wear that again” was all he said before he went inside his room to change. what he didn’t know was that you saw his ears so bright red just as the door closed.

juni : hi guys.. its been a second

[spider-stark]

SPARRING PARTNER

Aegon II Targaryen x Cousin!Reader

Summary - You and Aegon have hardly spoken since sharing a particularly sensual moment a month ago. Now he thinks he stands a chance at beating you in a sparring match.

Warnings - targcest (lightly implied that reader is Daemon's daughter), vague hints regarding smut, blood, horny/stupid aegon & reader, ! MINORS DNI !

Word Count - 2.5k

// masterlist // send me your thoughts // comments & reblogs appreciated! //

“Care for a partner?” 

Aegon’s gruff voice had come as a surprise, knocking you from a state of concentration as you swung for one of the training dummies.

Your body jolts. You fumble, then miss your mark by a fraction of an inch. The tip of your blade grazes against the dummies wooden neck, rather than slicing its head clean off. 

Gritting your teeth, blood thrums in your ears as you whirl around to face your cousin. “Hasn’t anyone ever told you that it’s dangerous to sneak up on an armed woman?” 

He’s standing within an arm’s length of you—much too close, considering you had been swinging a sword around. One wrong move, and it could’ve been his head that you had taken off. 

In spite of this, Aegon appears utterly at ease. Standing with his hands stuffed in his pockets, he shrugs at you, a lopsided smirk pulling at his lips. “I prefer for my women to be dangerous.” 

“I’m the furthest thing from one of your women.” 

“Really?” He cocks a brow, that stupid smirk growing wider. “Must I jog your memory, then? Remind you of Aemond’s name-day celebrations when-” 

You cut him off with a narrow-eyed glare, raising your blade in a feigned-threat. The tip is poised at his navel when you hiss, “Enough.” 

Obedient as always, Aegon’s mouth snaps shut at your command. His mouth remains curved, though, silently taunting you. Memories from last month flash through your mind—the two of you, drunk and stumbling away from the Banquet Hall, hands roaming freely along each other's bodies. 

A mistake. 

That’s all it was: an ignorant, drunken, mistake. 

Still, you feel your cheeks heating at the thought of that night. You huff, sliding your sword back into the leather-sheath strapped around your hips. “I’m not one of your women,” you huff, though you’re not so sure the reminder is meant for him. “You have a type, Aegon—and that type consists wholly of whores.” 

You had nothing against the whores, of course. Many of the ladies working on the Street of Silk were fine women—if anything, you felt bad that they had to deal with him. 

At least they get paid for it, though. You deal with his flirtations free of charge. 

“Well,” Aegon drones, his lilac eyes dipping further south. Sweat soaks through your tunic, making it cling to your skin in a way that accentuates the curve of your waist. “Not wholly of whores.” 

Your expression falls flat. “How flattering.” 

With that, you spin on your heel, fully intending on continuing your training on the other side of the yard. You make it less than a full step before his fingers snag on your wrist, whirling you back around. 

Your free hand finds the hilt of your sword, a warning flashing in your eyes. Worry flashes across his face, though it’s mostly shrouded by arrogance. 

“You never answered my question,” his voice carries a subtle wobble, hardly noticeable. You catch it, though, unable to suppress a self-satisfied grin. “Would you like a partner?” 

“A sparring partner?” 

The question is phrased like an insult—and, maybe, you had meant it that way. Your focus hones in on the hand still wrapped around your wrist. His smooth, uncalloused, princelike hands. When was the last time he had even held a sword? 

A puzzled frown accentuates the pout of his bottom lip. When he speaks, his voice is so unusually tentative that his response sounds more like a question than an answer. “Yes?” 

You try holding in a laugh—and fail miserably. Aegon’s confusion gives way to annoyance, embarrassment tinging his pale cheeks red. 

“What’s so funny?” 

Several biting remarks instantly come to mind, each a bit more insulting than the last. You hold your tongue. Surely he doesn’t actually believe himself capable of sparring with you, right? When it comes to swordfighting, you’re leagues above him. It wouldn’t even be close to a fair match. 

“Nothing,” you respond quickly, tight-lipped as you hold back another laugh. “But you know what? Sure—I could use some decent competition.” 

Aegon’s chest puffs slightly, confidence soaring. 

You nip that in the bud, “Mind fetching your brother for me?” 

He deflates at the mention of his brother, shoulders slumping forward as he scoffs. “You truly believe Aemond to be better than me?” 

“Without question.” 

Aemond was a bit of a twat—but he was undeniably skilled at swordplay. 

“Do you forget that Aemond and I were trained by the same knight?” Aegon asks, brows raised. “I’m just as skilled with a blade as my brother. If not more.” 

Another laughable statement that has you biting your cheek, trying not to insult him any more than you already had. 

It was true that, same as Aemond, Aegon had been trained by Ser Criston, a knight of the Kingsguard, when he was a boy. But if the softness of his palms was any indicator, then he hadn’t done a good job at keeping up with that training. 

“Doubtful.” Sighing, you then gesture to his clothes, “Besides, you’re not even dressed for a fight, Aegon. You can’t move in that!” 

Glancing down at himself, he observes his tight-fitted emerald tunic, slim trousers, and shiny black boots. Fashionable—but terrible for a fight. 

“I assure you that I can move just fine,” he huffs, weakly defending himself. Bringing a hand to his hip, he slides a dagger from a small black sheath. “I’ll prove it!” 

You stare at the weapon, unblinking. Incredulity lines each syllable as you ask, “You plan to fight me with that?” 

It was, admittedly, a very pretty dagger. 

No expense had been spared in its creation. The pommel was forged of shimmering gold, rounded and delicately crafted to emulate the appearance of glistening dragon scales. Dark shagreen wrapped the hilt, and the blade itself was made of steel so dark it appeared onyx, its tip curved ever-so-slightly, making it ideal for carving through flesh. 

Pretty, but still just a dagger. A weapon designed for close-range attacks would do him little good against a sword. 

“It’s a weapon, is it not?” If Aegon’s at all embarrassed by your teasing, he doesn’t show it. His jaw flexes, lilac eyes boring into you. “Fight me.” 

“This is foolish-” you start. 

“Fight me,” Aegon growls, cutting you off. He takes a step closer. Your spine turns to a steel rod, chin held high as his stare narrows on you. “Unless you’re too afraid to lose,” he purrs. 

Your blood simmers. 

He’s goading you. You know that—and take the bait anyway. 

“Fine,” you answer bluntly. 

Rolling your shoulders, you take your stance a few paces back from him. Feet apart and hands raised defensively, you don’t even bother with drawing your weapon—making his brow raise. 

“What about your sword?” He asks, eyeing the sheath at your waist. 

“Don’t need it.” 

Cocky—but true, nonetheless. If you were to spar with a weapon, then you would probably have him disarmed in seconds. Doing it this way, unarmed, you at least stand a chance of getting a good workout before your inevitable victory. 

“Let’s go.” Curling your fingers, you beckon him closer, a taunt in your voice, “Give it your best shot, Aeg.” 

A shiver crawls up his spine, thinking back to Aemond’s name-day, the last time you had called him that. The two of you had been so impatient that you hadn’t made it further than an empty broom closet; his teeth grazing against your neck, and his name oozing from your tongue like honey. 

His hand tightens around the hilt, remembering how it felt to be gripping your bare waist, instead. Remembering, too, how it felt as his touch drifted lower and lower, his fingers hooking along the waistband of your smallclothes just as a maid pushed the door open and started screaming. 

You hadn’t called him Aeg since that night—since you rushed to fix your gown and darted out the door, leaving him to deal with the maid. To hear it again now—after a month of dreaming of it—was pure bliss, as well as a confirmation that, perhaps, you don’t regret that night as much as you wish you did. 

Voice low, he asks, “Ready?” 

You almost smile. Aegon had been trained by the Kingsguard, taught to spar with honor, to wait until your opponent was ready to strike. 

But you were trained by the Rogue Prince. Taught to say fuck honor—strike first, ask questions never. 

A split second and you’re lunging forwards, making a move for his dominant side. 

Aegon’s eyes go wide—then his guard snaps up, forcing him to focus. 

Caught off guard, his movements are desperate and sloppy as he stumbles backwards, evading your strike. 

Your fingertips brush the sleeve of his tunic. If he’d moved a second later, you would have caught him by the wrist. A second later, and you would have already won. 

“Sneaky,” he chastises. 

You open your mouth to respond, only for the words to be cut off by a yelp. He takes you by surprise, barreling straight for you. Steel glimmers as the onyx blade sweeps towards you, slicing through the air much faster than you would’ve thought. 

There’s no time to dodge the strike—not without the risk of tripping over your own feet. You lift your forearm, aiming to block rather than dodge. Aegon notices this—a heartbeat too late—and purposefully slows his own blow. 

You hiss as cold steel grazes against your skin. Crimson trickles towards your elbow, minuscule compared to what it could have been. If Aegon hadn’t hindered his own strike, the blade could have very well cut-through to pure-ivory bone. 

Anger sparks in his eyes. “You could’ve dodged that,” he pants. 

Taking several small steps backwards, you grin at him through gritted teeth. “And you could’ve struck harder.” 

Aegon’s stare narrows and, instantly, that spark flares to an all-consuming wildfire. Lilac flames lick at his irises, the heat of them nipping at your skin, sweat beading along your brow. 

He moves first. 

Slicing from the left, you duck to the right. His counter is swift, aiming for your bicep. But he’s too hesitant—giving you just enough time to twist your body out of the way. 

His movements are as fast and relentless as they are unsustainable. Aegon’s chest heaves, evidence of his fraying endurance. You bide your time, weaving and dodging his blade's curved tip. Letting him push you back and back and back, focusing on evading rather than striking. 

Swinging low, his blade cuts through the front of your tunic, hardly a fucking centimeter from tearing into your sternum. A bit panicked, you snap your arm up. It rams into the side of his dominant wrist, striking a particularly sensitive nerve. 

He hisses. Takes a step back to regroup. 

Never loses his grip, though, knuckles turning white around the hilt. 

“Impressive,” you bite out, feeling your own temper flare. 

Taking advantage of the small window, you move towards him. Swept towards his ankle with your leg, hoping to knock him off balance but— 

—He predicts your movement, jumping back only to immediately press forward again. Every movement is aggressive; not calculated or precise, but still swift and near inescapable. 

You block and block, stumbling back and back. Your footwork turns sloppy, your focus hazy. Then, suddenly, your back is slamming into rough stone. Blade poised at your chest, Aegon grins even as he fights to catch his breath. 

You curse at yourself, realization settling into your bones. 

You counted on him being a poor swordsman—on being out of practice and out of shape. Waiting for his stamina to deplete, knowing that when it did, you could easily overpower him. 

You hadn’t considered that maybe he’d had a strategy of his own, though. 

Aegon had tricked you. Overexerted himself on purpose. Moved faster and faster, ensuring that you were focusing on him and not your surroundings, allowing him to back you into a godsdamned corner. 

Your temper flares. Instincts kick in. 

Your hand thrusts upwards, aiming for the chain dangling around his neck. His freehand shoots up at the same time, catching your fingers just as they wrap around the thick metal. He doesn’t move your hand away, letting the warmth of your touch linger against the column of his throat. 

You had planned to choke him, and Aegon knows this. And yet neither fear nor worry clouds his gaze. His lilac eyes remain bright, glittering with intrigue, of all things. 

A low chuckle rumbles deep in his chest, which is only mere inches from your own. “If you were this desperate to touch me,” Aegon purrs, the sweetness of arbor red permeating your senses as his breath fans across your cheek, “then you should’ve just asked.” 

“You’re insufferable,” you grind out. 

Aegon leans closer, the tip of his nose bumping against yours as your foreheads touch. Your heartbeat stutters, then quickens. He loosens his grip on your fingers, not caring that you could easily attack him again. As he brushes a strand of sweat-soaked hair behind your ear, you’re fairly certain that, at this moment, Aegon has no cares at all. 

“You were wrong,” he whispers. 

The world around you begins to fade, your vision hollowing until all that remains is him. You just stare at him—wide-eyed and confused, utterly ensnared. 

“Earlier,” Aegon continues. “You said that you were the furthest thing from my type of woman. But you were wrong–” his touch drifts from your hairline, traveling along your jaw in a soft caress, “–you’re the only type of woman that I want.” 

A serrated breath escape escapes you as Aegon pushes himself against you, further caging you against the stone. Close enough that, with each breath, his plush lips brush against yours. Close enough that you can feel his hardening length buried against your thigh. 

“Every night,” his voice drops to a whimper now. “I’ve thought of you every night since then. Dreamed of you, even.” 

You bite your tongue, scared that if you don’t, you might say something stupid—might tell him that you dreamt of him, too. Of the warmth of his touch, fingertips burning against your skin as they dipped lower lower lower. 

Weakness wins out, a strangled moan slipping from parted lips, “Aeg-” 

“Have you thought of me?” Aegon asks, brows furrowing into an unbearably innocent expression. You squirm against him, your back arching off the stone, hips desperately searching for friction. He clicks his tongue. “Words, dove. Use them.” 

Gods—how you hate yourself for this. For how easy it is for him to toy with you. For how much you enjoy it. 

You rasp, “Yes-” 

In response, a satisfied hum. “Good.” 

For a moment, somehow both brief and eternal, you wait for him to close that gap between you. Wait to feel his lips crash against yours, to taste the sweetness of his tongue. To have his touch once again strike a match within your soul, leaving you to burn in the ecstasy of his embrace. 

And then, suddenly, you feel it—

—the tip of his fucking dagger pressed against the underside of your jaw, a single bead of warmth trickling down the column of your throat. 

Lip curling into a snarl, you glare at Aegon. 

He looks all too pleased with himself, smirking as he asks, “Now am I better than Aemond?” 

You don’t answer him—not with words, at least. But he can see the response simmering in your eyes; a certainty that excited him far more than it scared him.

You were going to kill him.

a/n - honestly just wanted to practice writing a short little fight scene with this! originally this was going to be about aemond, but my love for aegon won out as it always does.

as always, like's comments and reblogs are appreciated! and if any of you want to talk about all things aegon or hotd/asoiaf, my asks/dms are open (please none of my irl friends like hotd i'm begging)

[jjongswannabebae]

Marriage of convenience (18+) < rich!jay x rich!fem!reader, hurt/comfort fic, lots of making out, kissing, arguments, angst, smut 18+, a lot of tears. note: first time writing smut- not proofread!! MDNI, please reblog >

Not that you minded, being set up with on a date on a mundane Wednesday wasn't on your checklist. Considering skipping it, you drawled the process of making small talk with some random geek who had cash.

Ugh. Being the only daughter of a rich man had its own plight.

"Jude, Can't I skip today's appointment with Mr. P?" You complain to your manager, Jude shirt for Judith. She keeps her eyes in the road, save for a glance, only opening her mouth,

"Do you even know who you're meeting?"

You nod profusely, "another rich kid with attitude," you finish, staring bored out the car window, watching the way birds fly, free of restraint. How you wished to live to like that.

Money can go far but you couldn't get freedom with said money.

"Well, hate to break it to you, this guy, "Mr. Park" is different,"

"You always say that," you drawl a whine puffing up your cheeks with air. "I'll stake some money if makes you happy"

Money? You had plenty but jude wasn't someone who'd set losing bets. Curious, you beam to accept her bet, having a spike in your mood.

Jude dropped you off at the posh cafe your date had scheduled to meet. Wondering who exactly this man was, convincing enough to get the stingy jude to bet bills.

Surely, he would be anything but disappointing.

Oh and how right you were.

He stood leaning back on the counter, decked in a neatly ironed silk shirt stretched across his defined shoulders, shirt buttoned down with his chest slightly exposed, sleek formal pants running down his legs loosely hung off his waist.

Okay, you admit he had great fashion sense but what about his face?

Sunglasses decked his perfect slicked jet hair, gaunt face with a killer jawline, brown eyes sharp and lips small yet kissable, ears pierced, vieny arms folded to his chest.

Jude won the bet the moment you locked eyes with him.

He was absolutely beautiful and you'd experienced what you thought was love at first sight.

He drew a smile and walked closer animatedly. Shit. Your feet were frozen to the ground as your lips parted with surprise. He stuck his hand out, "nice to meet you, I'm park jay" he offered, politely. Yet your mind and actions faltered and were a heartbeat late on grabbing onto his hand.

The rest was history. Married a year and a half later, nobody could predict the marriage would be this loveless and stagnant. Not that the public knew.

Jay Park. Hier to the one and only park estate, leading hotel series bringing wads of cash. Along with your own established wealth from your dad's company, which you assumed you'd be taking over soon.

But those dreams were crushed when jay came home with the news that a merger would take place, a year after your marriage.

Now all that you had to do was stay at home and look after him and the kids. But wait.

What kids? A loveless marriage was one thing but a sexless one was unheard of.

Yet intercourse was the only intimacy you shared with him. Hes perfect in every aspect yet incapable of affection, you'd deemed a year into the relationship.

Any show of affection like cuddling or spending time you'd initiate would fall flat or would be denied, or worst yet he'd never be there for you to initiate it. Work, home, sleep, eat. That's all he did and that's why it was all the worse.

He acted like you were invisible except the days he came home drunk and fucked you senseless. You'd consent to that but it felt meaningless, like a repeated one night stand yet you lived with the guy and were married to him.

So when your parents haunted you with the pressure of having children, you'd burst into tears upon your arrival home. You hated the fact you were so shallow and unlovable to the one man you swore to.

You ignored the pressure from your parents to have a child yet the tension mounted.

You and jay were to eat lunch with his parents and then came the infamous line, "I would love to see my grandchildren anytime soon," said Mrs. Park nonchalantly and you swear you saw jays left brow twitch. It hurt.

There was nothing wrong with you, or him for any matter. Just that your marriage never even felt like one to begin with.

"So soon?" Jay questioned, setting down his fork to the plate. You could his temple crease ever so slightly. You'd observed the man sitting next to you for a long time when he'd be with you was when he would sleep. You'd spend countless hours staring at his beautiful face, yearning for his attention, and even more far fetched, his love.

"it'll be two years soon, son" replied Mr. Park giving a stern glare towards his son, eyes flickering over you momentarily before they returned to his plate yet again.

Worthless. That was the look in mr parks eyes. He'd probably thought how hard it'd be to seduce his son, or rather get him into bed.

You sat wordless in the car, watching out the window as you did the time Jude dropped you off him to meet him for the first time. Jay sat beside you, facing the window as well. Rain poured heavy, matching your gloomy vibe from the happenings at lunch with the parks. Right, you were a Park.

Love at first sight was real when you met jay for the first time. Yet he never reciprocated anything you felt.

Tears welled in your eyes, threatening to spill yet you held them back with all your might. Not here, not infront of jay. Never had you cried when he was present. It was unnerving to see his expressionless face watch you cry.

Yet your thoughts only grew worse and before you knew it, a tear fled from your eye and a sob broke from your mouth. It was hard, feeling unwanted and isolated all the time. Those emotions flew out like a river, gaining the attention of your husband.

"you okay?" He spoke softly, like you'd shatter if he spoke any louder, and at that you sobbed harder till you broke down weeping in the car as the driver flicked his eyes to the back seat repeatedly, wondering what commotion was taking place.

Jay asked the driver to drop you two off at their hotel, and the tyres swerved to the right, soon infront the entrance. Jay urged you to calm down and get down the vehicle. You complied and wiped your tears away, standing there as the cold wind hit your face. Yet again you felt like crying.

Jay grabbed you by the hand and tried to haul you inside as fast as possible, but you slapped his hand away, "I'll take myself there," His eyebrow twitched and raised, leaning closer to your ear to whisper, "there're eyes on us, the paparazzi is right here so just get inside," he seethed through his teeth.

At his words you panned your head around, merely for jay to put his arms to your knees and neck and pick you up and head for the roundabout back entrance. Absolutely stunned that he lifted you up with no struggle, you watched him maneuver with your mouth slightly parted.

On the elevator to the largest suite, accessible by family, you asked to let down. "No," he replied, keeping his eyes on the doors of the elevator. You didn't protest further and cozied up to his chest. He took three strides to the door and whipped it open and peered inside.

He let you down and trapped you to the door, his forehead pressing against yours. His breathing was erratic, his eyes showed emotion. *What's wrong," he let out in between exasperated breaths.

And the tears came again.

"Everything," you quip and wiping away you erratic tears with the back of your hand, leveraging your weight in the door to stand up straighter and look him dead set in his eyes.

"Do you even know anything about me? What I like to do, what I like to eat, what's my favourite color... Do you even love the person you're married too?"

He opens his mouth devoid of swords, eyes guilty shoulders heavy of burden. "You like to dance, you like spicy food, and your favourite color is," he starts small, working his mind through all the things he knew about you, "purple?"

"blue,"

"oh."

"what was the name of the dog I had when I was younger?"

Silence.

"Bruno," you answer, disappointment filling your being as you stare the guilt stricken man facing you. "At this rate you probably never felt anything for me, let alone love." He leaned his head to the door behind you, keeping his hand to your shoulder and whispering to your ear, "do you know why I've been distant with you?"

"if what you mean by distant is ignoring my every attempt and instant of me trying to express my emotions to you in the past two years, then, no. Probably except the fact you don't like me but needed someone to fill in the position of your wife." You huff, letting your true feelings show, the pack of interaction between you two hurt you a lot more than you thought.

"Perhaps your criteria was to find someone smart but quiet, pretty but not attention seeking and lastly a nice body would be a plus point, I suppose," you finish, one hand settling on his nape and the other his back. You keep your eyes trained on his, batting them ever so often so you wouldn't cry with word you uttered.

At first, jay showed no signs of response except guilt, then his face contorted to confusion and lastly to anger. The crease on his forehead from burying his eyebrows downward as he almost glared at you with a fire lit in his eyes.

"So you think I'm using you," he says, and you nod, solely for him to sneer and pull back from your hold, stepping closer and claiming you up the door as he swung his arm round your waist and one hand to your face, tilting it upto him, and dipping his head down to your eye level. Your lips were mere centimetres apart from collision. Eyeing your lips he grazed his thumb past your lips.

"You talk like you know the whole story, darling. It's not a good habit to make assumptions," he said drawing a line down your lips, his finger slipping past making a small smacking sound

"well then what's your reasoning to leaving me devoid of affection? Before you say you sent gifts, I know your assistant picked them, the clothes he sent were chosen with little to no fashion sense, whereas you have an exceptional dressing style so don't say you bought me those items, darling." You muse replicate his fiery response with sass.

He watches you with contemplating whether to tell or not. "We were only supposed to be married for a year." He starts slow, taking in your facials, watching as your eyes widened and practically urged him to continue. "The merger wasn't going to happen, you were supposed to take over," he said calmly, knowing how much of a touchy subject this was to you, having prepared your whole life to head the company and ultimately not being able too.

"But the results shown over the one year we were meant tobe together showed immensely worthy and the merger took place, therefore nullifying our one year marriage,"

Like rains drops now fell from the sky, the sunny days his behind the clouds like your tears behind your eyelids. Jay couldn't bare to see you look so vulnerable. He felt as though he was the cause for these misunderstandings, which he was not completely but partly.

"I, I never signed any contract,"

"It wasn't meant to be signed by us, it was unanimous decision,"

"So now they want us to act like a couple? Do they even know how hurt I felt to be ignored for a year, how it felt to feel unwanted and unlovable?" A stray tear strolled down your cheeks as anger creeped up your voice. It was unfathomable to you, to be lied to by your own parents, and possibly jay too.

"Had you known we'd last for only a year?"

"...yes" he paused, waiting for the information to sink into you, hoping it wouldn't shatter you more. Your head spun in circles as you struggled to get away from him, pushing as his chest as tears streamed down your face, brushing past him to sit on the couch to relieve your dizziness.

You sat there and cried while jay watched you unwind into a tears, unsure of what to do. 'I didn't want to fall for you, because I'd have to leave eventually but I couldn't stop myself from catching feelings when I was around you. I decided it would be best for me not to be there for you and I'm aware of my mistake here... But apologizing won't make the hurt and damage you faced go away. You're free to take your call, whether it may be divorce or not, and don't worry about our parents, I'll handle them."

You panned your head up at the word divorce, shifting to your feet and striding over to jay, where he stood previously, stuck in place. You faced and a loud smacked echoed across the room, his head turned 180 degrees, his cheek red with the strike of your palm.

"Atleast tell me you'll love me now, asshole,"

He put a palm to his cheek, running the area you struck him, watching your tear dried somber face, more threatening to brim out the ledge. "I'm sorry." He apologized, hanging his head low with shame and guilt.

"One thing you've never done to me," eyes conveying different sorts of emotions, "is kiss me."

He looked rather surprised at the observation, "I knew if I kissed you, there'd be no going back, both mentally and physically."

"Jay weve fucked before for hours yet you never kissed me once, didn't you think I'd find it strange? And when were you going to tell me about this whole one year marriage clause being nullified, meaning we'd spend the rest of our lives together part? Not that I didn't think we'd spend our whole lives together but I guess we thought different."

"I was planning to, but the time was never right, so..."

You turned your back to him and walked to the suites bedroom and to the bathroom, jay following behind slowly. Splashing water to your face and drying it off, seeing an awkward jay hanging around in the tension of the air. "Sit," you ordered, pointing to the ledge of the bed. Confused, he still complied, comfying himself on the edge of the bed.

"Good,"you commented, hiking up on the bed and onto jays lap to his surprise, situating yourself atop of him, staring back down to his glasses over pupils, red and swollen from the lack of sleep and fatigue. "Are you tired, darling" this time saying the nickname endearingly. "Not really,"

"then kiss me,"

Flustered by your demand, he began stuttering, "Are you sure? Like really?" You nodded along, "yes,"

"then I guess I could," he became nervous, but built up the the courage to put his hand to the back of head and slowly press down in it till your lips met his. The motion started out awkward, then jay relaxed after a few seconds or so and found a rhythm you could match.

The dynamic of the intensified as jay began settling into reality that he was kissing his wife. Swiveling his tongue around yours he began tasting every corner of your mouth, exploring every inch. You attempted to pull away due to lack of air but he held you back your hair aggressively tugging to his lapping tongue.

You moaned his mouth, hand squeezing his shoulder for stability, swiping over your bottom lip, and softly biting your lip, he let go of the insane grip he had on you. You heaved your chest up and down, messing your hair. You pushed down to the bed, sitting on top of him.

He tugged your arm towards him and you were face to face with jay. He brushed past hair intruding your picturesque visual. He lifted up your shirt enough to expose your stomach and rubbed past the expanse soothingly. He picked you and flipped you over and onto your back and made you scoot to the headrest.

The two of your made out for another few minutes or so only pulling back when in dire need of oxygen. Your lips were swollen but you were addicted. Even though the two if you had got intimate before, it was nothing compared to the emotions you felt through this. You sat up on the bed to catch your breath and ruffled through his hair endearingly.

With your approval he yanked your shirt off, then he stripped off his shirt, trapping you in between his legs. "You kiss me," he breathed out and situated his hands behind back to suport both his and your weight. You lunged at him and connected your lips to his, grinding down where your body met as he let out the soft noises from his mouth as he moved to kiss at his jaw, your hands running the expanse of his well built chest and back.

You obsessed over marking his jaw and neck for a good few minutes before travelling down to his nape, marking and sucked the area. You peppered kisses back up to his lips, taking his bottom lip between your teeth,feeling the vibrations of his groans down to your wet spot and grinded harder but free tired and settled on top of his clothes hardness.

He returned the favour by making you mean with every touch, electrifying you body. You but as his ear when his began to touch you through your remaining clothes, still keeping his lips fixated on yours. Approaching closer to your high you became hypersensitive of his every action he performed on you.

He set you on him and forced you down onto his hard-on till you cried of pleasure, riding off the whiteness by laying you down on the bed and dropping up on his elbows to kiss you. You felt immense pleasure and relief, showing your gratitude by jerking him off.

Tired, you laid on the bed in his arms, still thinking about the events that took place. "At this rate, we could just expect a kid," you say, laughing it off as a joke, "then we'll have to get to work.* He replied with a giggle and you buried yourself in his chest with a smile.

[honeyed-hedonist]

Pairings: Aged Up!Damian Wayne x Reader Word Count: 3.1k Summary: You're always just a phone call away for Damian, so he calls when he needs you. And tonight? He really fucking needs you. Warnings: SMUT--MINORS DNI. unprotected sex, creampie, degradation, size kink if you squint, face slapping (once), oral (male & female receiving), orgasm control (kind of???), basically just 3k words of Dami tearing you apart in the best way. A/N: Hello again! Posting another old fic on mine. I still blame @heli0s-writes for sending me on a Damian Wayne spiral. I will never recover from this and it's all her fault. Enjoy :3

IF YOU LIKE THIS STORY, PLEASE REBLOG IT.

It’s late. It’s always late when he calls you—3am and you’re answering the phone, the pitch of his voice deepened and gruff with need. A need that only you can satiate. “Come over, darling.” You’re out the door before you end the call, hailing a cab to the manor, pulse racing because you know what’s coming.

The path you walk when you reach the gate is so familiar, you could do it with your eyes closed, feet carrying you to the front door. There’s no need to knock or ring the bell, the second your shoes hit the porch Damian swings it wide open, the cowl stripped off, blackened liner still smeared around those beautiful green eyes. He’s looking at you like he wants to tear you apart, but you’ve always had an affinity for pretty, dangerous things. 

A step closer and you catch the way the warm light of the entryway bounces off of the thin gold chain hanging around his neck. It sparkles, and your mind conjures up the image of it swinging above your face when you’re folded in half on his bed. It makes you clench, taking another step while your eyes make the slow trek downward, his bare chest and rippling stomach that cuts to narrow, defined hips has your mouth watering. You know what they feel like against your tongue, beneath your fingers.

There’s no need for words, his calloused hand closing around your wrist to tug you inside, the heavy door shutting with a definitive click that reverberates off the walls and arched ceilings of Wayne Manor. He’s already hard, you can feel it when his arm snakes its way around your waist to pull you even closer. And then he’s crouching down, sweeping his other hand behind your knees to lift you into his arms.

You’re trapped in the heat of his gaze, the salty, earthy smell of his skin--still damp with sweat from his night spent in triple-weave kevlar. Fingers dance up the back of his neck, tangling into that silky, black hair, and his chest vibrates with something akin to a growl. It sends your pulse rushing between your legs, desire warm and heavy in your belly as he walks you up the stairs towards the master suite. 

The second you’re past the threshold, you reach for his face, wanting to feel his hot mouth on yours, but he doesn’t budge, the corner of his lips quirking in an amused smile at the whine that comes tumbling out of your throat when you try, and fail, to kiss him. “Patience, beloved.” Damian is gentle when he sets you down on the lush, thickly weaved rug that spreads out from beneath his bed, forefinger and thumb coming up to pinch your chin. His nose brushes yours when he speaks again, breath hot and sweet as it fans out across your face. “Be good.”

You watch with baited breath as he settles himself on the edge of the mattress, thighs spread open, palms flat against his knees, his posture perfectly straight. He looks like a king on his throne, and you’re prepared to bow at his feet. “You’re very overdressed, don’t you agree? Perhaps you should remedy that.” The tone of his voice leaves no room for argument, your hands falling to the hem of your sleep shirt, tugging it hastily over your head. Your shorts are your next target, swiftly yanking them down your legs. Shoes, socks, and bra all join the pile of your discarded clothes after that, and Damian hums his approval. “Much better.” 

Lifting one of his hands, he points to the space between his feet. “Come.” There’s no hesitation from you, moving immediately with a step forward, but then he scoffs, eyebrows drawn down in admonishment. “Really, pet? Is that how you’re meant to approach me? As my equal?” His words make you short circuit, brain muddled with the fog of submission, because you will always submit to him--it’s not even a question at this point. He’s in charge, he owns you, and he knows it.

Dropping to your hands and knees, you crawl towards him slowly, eyes trained on his face, trying to read him--but Damian has mastered the art of impassiveness. His calves brush against your shoulders as you wedge yourself between his legs, the only sign of his pleasure is the tent in the front of his joggers and the rumbling in his chest. It’s enough--has you salivating from your place on the floor, eagerly awaiting instruction.

He leans forward, strong hand circling your throat, fingers tightening until he can feel the ripple of your swallow. “Have you missed me?” He asks, but you know better than to open your mouth, choosing instead to nod your head. Damian hums thoughtfully, free hand stroking at his slightly stubbled chin. “Hmm, I’m not sure I’m convinced. Why don’t you show me?”

“Yes, sir.” You answer, and he relents, releasing your throat to lean back on the bed, propped up with his arms extended so he can watch you--he’s always watching you--calculating, observing, learning. Damian Wayne knows all of the ways to take you apart, and all of the ways to put you back together again, but now he’s testing you, wants to see just how much you’ve learned since you began spending nights in his bed.

Shaking fingers dip beneath the waistband of his sweats, tugging them down his thighs until the heavy weight of his cock springs free, slapping against the hard plane of his stomach with a dense thud. You moan, how can you not? He’s impressively large, perfectly curved towards his bellybutton, nestled in coarse, dark hair, thick and throbbing just for you. His head is shining with pre, glistening in the orange glow from the roaring fire in the hearth nearby. Your eyes meet, faux innocence batting up at him from beneath your lashes. But Damian knows better, knows how filthy you are, and he’s losing his patience.

You let your hand circle the base, tongue dragging a hot, wet line beneath his length until your lips close around the tip, precum tangy against your tastebuds. You moan again, eyes rolling back. The musk of his night perusing the city is still fresh on his skin, and he always tastes so god damn good like this. Dirty. Natural. It spurs you onward, his tip popping into the back of your throat as you take him all the way down. He reaches out after that, fingers gentle against the skin of your neck, his cock seated so fully inside the wet heat of your mouth that he can feel himself beneath your esophagus when you swallow. It makes him grunt, satisfied with your efforts.

It’s all the encouragement you need to move again, cheeks hollowed as you suck him off. The only sounds in the room are your labored breaths and the nasty, wet squelch of your mouth on his cock. Damian’s eyes are blown black, watching you like a predator tracking its prey, hand shooting out to curl into the hair at the crown of your head and shove you down until your nose is pressing against his taut abdomen. He holds you there, testing your limits, keeping you still, voice strained with his pleasure when he speaks. “Swallow.” He commands, and you oblige, whimpering while your thighs shift in an attempt to alleviate the ache in your cunt. 

“What’s wrong, pet? Do you want to cum?” Damian smirks at the desperate look in your eyes before he answers his own question. “Too bad.” He mocks your arousal, knowing all you really want right now is for him to fuck a hole right through you, but he needed to feel your warm, wet mouth first.  And Damian will never apologize for having his needs met, because he always reciprocates in kind. Especially with you.

He volleys with you back and forth, letting you have control before ultimately usurping you to fuck your face. When he’s satisfied, your cheeks are hot, the remnants of the mascara that you carelessly forgot to wash off is smeared down your face, and your chin is covered in your own spit as he yanks you free from his cock by your hair. “Tch--look at you, such a mess.” Damian’s free hand breaks the string of spittle connecting your mouth to the tip of his dick and smears it across your face. He’s not gentle, and you don’t want him to be, moaning open-mouthed when his palm cracks across your cheek. “Get up.”

Your actions are instantaneous, done without pause or thought, rising to your feet with his hand still fisted in your hair. He stands, too, spinning you both around until your calves hit the mattress and he shoves you backwards. You fall gracelessly onto his comforter, and he gives you no reprieve, no chance to catch your breath before he’s peeling your thighs apart to inspect your slit. Your panties are an encumbrance, one that has him growling as his long, dextrous fingers tear the fabric clean off, ripping them away to toss on the floor. 

He wastes no time, hands framing your pussy to peel your lips apart, leaning forward, he takes a deep inhale, the tip of his nose bumping against your throbbing clit. It makes you jolt, body bowing off of the bed, but his eyes cut to yours and you still immediately, knowing that he’ll stop if you don’t behave. “You have the most beautiful cunt, and she’s all mine.” Damian hums, mostly to himself, pink tongue slipping out of his mouth to circle your clit slowly. Your hands fist his expensive bedding, knuckles bone-white as he begins to work you over with his mouth.

He’s an expert at many things--knows over a hundred ways to kill a man with his bare hands--and can get you to gush against his mouth in a matter of minutes. Damian plays your body like a fine-tuned instrument, hits all the right notes to make you see stars. He curls those long, rough fingers of his against the velvet walls of your pussy, free hand applying pressure at your belly, while his plump lips suction against your pulsing clit. Barely two minutes in and you’re already hurtling towards bliss, whining and whimpering and writhing--all for him. 

“Dami, please!” You want your release. Want to cum all over his handsome face. He can feel it in the way your cunt grips his fingers, fluttering in time with the expert swipes of his tongue. He knows it’s only a few more licks until you’re careening into your orgasm. His eyes meet yours between the valley of your breasts, glittering with mirth as you cry out, begging shamelessly for him to let you cum. And then, like the menace he is, Damian releases your clit with a wet pop, effectively slamming you into a brick wall, your orgasm slipping right through your fingers with a pained cry.

Tears of desperation brim in your eyes and he tuts, rising to his feet, forearm wiping your glistening arousal from his lips and chin. “Do you have no shame? Begging like a common whore.” He’s on you in a flash, joggers discarded, fully naked as his hand once again finds your throat and he snarls above you. “Your orgasms belong to me, beloved. I decide when you deserve to cum, and tonight, you’ll be coming all over my cock. Do I make myself clear?” 

He expects an answer, but you’re transfixed, completely mystified by his overpowering, eclipsing presence above you. Damian makes you feel small. It fogs your brain, makes it hard to do anything other than mewl, thighs parting to accommodate his hips as he settles above you.  “Tch--useless little thing. All you’re good for is being my tight hole to fuck, isn’t that right, pet?” You nod, helpless and desperate beneath him, every nerve ending in your body thrumming like live wires. It’s a fact that he captializes on, slapping the mushroomed tip of his dick against your drenched slit, the wet sound that reaches his ears making him moan.

There isn’t a sound on Earth prettier than hearing Damian Wayne moan for you, your mouth falling open as you gaze up at him in awe. It’s the perfect opportunity for him to sluice the middle fingers of his left hand over your tongue. Ever the obedient pet, your lips close automatically, suckling as those same fingers push so far back they make you choke. Through your bleary eyes, you can see the sadistic smile that graces Damian’s face. It’s dangerous, and it sends a fresh rush of arousal leaking from your cunt. 

It’s almost like he can smell it, and he probably can, his irises disappearing until all that’s left are the whites of his eyes as he inhales deeply. There’s no warning, no preparation, just his gaze rolling back to meet yours when he snaps his hips forward with perfect aim, his cock stretching you open and filling you in a way only he can. It makes you scream, your back beginning to arch, but Damian is right there, pulling his fingers from your mouth to grip your throat and pin you back down against the mattress.

His pace is unforgiving. It’s brutal and deep, carving his way into your body with harsh thrusts that have the headboard knocking flecks of plaster off the walls until they cascade down like rain onto the comforter. “You. Belong. To me.” He spits it through gritted teeth, and it’s not something you’ll ever deny. Your relationship may be unconventional, but you wouldn’t trade it. Any time spent with Dami, to you, is a gift, especially if it means he’ll fuck you absolutely boneless in order to reassert his control on those nights when he feels like the world around him is spiraling. 

You take it all--every thrust, the gnashing of his teeth into the juncture of your neck and shoulder, the suffocating grip around your throat, the drizzle of spit that falls onto your waiting tongue when he pries your jaw open. Anything Damian dishes out, you take without complaint, because while he craves control, you crave subjugation--the metaphorical yin to his yang.

Your voice is hoarse when you try to speak, breath stuttering with every powerful roll of Damian’s hips, barely heard over the lewd sounds of being fucked open. Each strike of his cock inside of you hits that spongy mound of tissue, dragging his silky, hot length against it with each withdrawal. It has you climbing right back towards your inevitable peek, the only question is-- will he let you finish this time?

“Dami--m’gonna--please, m’so close, baby.” You wheeze, and he smiles, teeth blindingly white even though the haze of your oxygen deprivation. You find some reprieve from the deliciously pleasurable pain when he finally peels his fingers back from your throat, hands sliding to your shins to fold them up and into your chest. His pace never lessens, he never slips out, following the bending of your body, the new angle allowing an even deeper stroke inside your gummy walls. It has you keening, hands clawing at his chest, his gold chain bouncing against the backs of your palms.

“Very well, I think you’ve earned it.” Reaching between your bent legs, Damian’s thumb slices through the lips of your cunt that are spread wide around his cock to seek out your clit. He’s precise, circling the aching bud in a way that makes you choke, throat vibrating with a squeal. You’re close again, rapidly approaching your release, so fast you can barely keep up, the pressure in your belly building to an unbearable tightness. This time, when you meet his eyes, the malice is gone, replaced with what you can only describe as devotion. “Go on, make a mess on my cock, cum for me.”

That’s all it takes, his permission coupled with the expert swirl of his thumb and the perfect drag of his cock have you seeing stars, bursting with a cry of his name. You scream, back arching up, chest to chest with him as he cradles you close. “I know, beloved, I know. Let it all out.” He coos, still thrusting wildly through the resistance as your pussy tries to shove him out with each fluttering pulse. Damian can feel your cum weeping out around him, it wets his thighs, dribbles down the seam of his sack, drips down onto the mattress. It makes him groan, balls tightening as he reaches the point where he can no longer stave off his own release. 

With a low moan of your name he pumps into you once, twice--the third sending the first spray of his cum deep in your womb. You can feel the pulse of his length as he bottoms out with a grunt, forehead pressing against yours, breath hot against your mouth. Jet after jet of semen coats your insides, filling you up so full it almost hurts. You whimper out, and Damian shushes you, cupping your face to plant a soft kiss against your lips. “Shh,” he murmurs. “You did so well for me, my darling. Such a good girl. I’m so proud of you.”

All you can manage is a hum, Damian’s fingers carding through your sweat-slicked hair as he peppers soft kisses over your cheeks, the tip of your nose, your forehead. This has got to be your favorite part, because while he knows how to completely wreck you, he’s also right there to pick up the pieces and stitch you right back together again. 

He carries you into the bathroom, runs a bath for the both of you, coddles and keeps you close until the pair of you are falling into his freshly stripped bed beneath the sheets. His arm is slung snugly around your waist, his lips on the back of your neck as you settle in preparation of sleep. “I’d like you to move your things into the manor.” His voice is soft, there’s a hesitation there that is so uncharacteristic it nearly shocks you back from exhaustion. But again, all you’re able to offer him is a hum of acknowledgement, wiggling further into the warmth of his body, heavy eyelids closing as your consciousness wanes and you drift. 

You’ll tackle this moving in business when you’ve got a clear head and a full belly, but the prospect of taking the next step in your relationship with Damian brings you the most pleasant, peaceful sleep you’ve had in years.

[cherrycolored-punk]

new sensations II.

pairings: e.m x fem!reader

author’s note: surprise! did we catch the way Eddie took care of reader in the first half because it definitely still haunts her. Please like/comment/reblog if you enjoyed it 🖤

warnings: cheating (reader w/ Eddie, whoops), oral (Eddie and reader receiving), fingering, unprotected p in v, creampie, slight dom!Eddie, choking, ass slapping. Let me know if I forgot anything!

you can read part one here.

Rain pours outside, the stars dotting the night sky covered by dark gray clouds that swirl across its expanse.

Your mind is as clouded as the sky, consumed with thoughts of a certain brunette.

You’re in bed now, the sage green curtains in your room drawn closed, and the lights dimmed low. A cinnamon-apple candle is lit, sending hues of orange and red around the small space as the flame glimmers against the glass. The rich scent wafts through the air.

You can’t get Eddie out of your head, haven’t been able to since that night nearly two weeks ago.

The feel of his lips, the way his hips pushed into yours.

There were many nights you’d spent alone with your legs spread and your fingers working you over the edge, but not nearly as good as he did. You can still picture his face when you sank down onto his cock, wide brown eyes, and a slack jaw. A pretty sight, one that made you clench around his shaft, and god, you needed to feel him again.

But there was Steve…your boyfriend. The one who had encouraged you to sleep with the curly-haired metalhead as he watched. The one who doesn’t know that you can’t stop thinking about the boy he thought of as a freak.

A heavy sigh leaves your lips as you drag a finger down your chest and over your cleavage, thinking of Eddie’s kiss.

Imagining his touch.

Your hand trails lower, over the soft flesh of your stomach, and to the edge of your panties. Goosebumps rise along your flesh, anticipation growing and electric. Your fingers dip under the elastic and over your mound, middle finger grazing your clit and eliciting a gasp from your parted lips.

You throw your head back against the pillow, imagining Eddie’s warm breath against your wet folds. Teasing and taking his time. Kissing and nibbling your thighs, watching you from over his bright brown eyes.

His soft auburn curls would tickle your thigh, adding to the anticipation, and you’d watch him with a hooded gaze. Needy and desperate.

He’d swipe his tongue, flat and fat over your center, groaning when he tastes your arousal. Burying his face deeper so his nose presses into your bundle of nerves.

A deft hand rubs circles against your bundle of nerves, dainty fingers that don’t feel as good as his long, calloused ones.

You continue to try, toes curling as pleasure courses through you, but never a release. Your head falls back against the pillow, and you let out a frustrated sigh.

A desperate need thrums through your veins, felt in the throb of your aching cunt whenever images of Eddie flash across your mind.

You reach for your phone, scroll to the messenger app, and type Eddie’s name, creating a new message. The first one you’d ever sent him.

Uncertainty creeps into your chest. What do you even say?

Slowly, your thumbs move across the screen, and you hit send before you can second guess what you’ve typed.

You: got anything for sale?

You read it back, cringing at your words, but in an instant, he’s responded.

Eddie: what are you looking for?

A mischievous grin pulls against your lips.

You: whatever you’ve got, can you drop it off?

Eddie: yeah, I can be there in twenty.

You: 333 S Fairfield Ave. Let me know when you’re outside.

And maybe it was a little presumptuous of you to assume Eddie would even want you in that way, but fuck, you hoped he did. You hoped he’d thought of you too. With his hands wrapped around his shaft, picturing the faces you made and the sounds you created as he rutted into you.

You hopped off your bed and took in your appearance, straightening your white camisole and the blue checkered boxer shorts you wore. The ones that barely covered your ass.

Quickly you fix your hair, and was lip gloss too much? Too obvious? 

You shrug your shoulder and apply it anyway, rubbing your lips together so that the cherry gloss is coated evenly.

It feels like your heart is going to beat out of your chest as you wait for Eddie’s text and the sudden ding of your phone sends a thrill through you. Earlier than expected.

Eddie: outside.

A wave of excitement washes over you, one that’s hard to contain as you push your feet into your slides and lock the door behind you.

Eddie waits inside his van, thumbs thrumming against the steering wheel on tempo with a Metallica song he was learning on his guitar. He’s bobbing his head, glancing around your neighborhood; a part of town he didn’t often venture to. The apartment building you live in was renovated from an old bank, a three story brown brick building that’s a little weathered with age. Cars are parked along the curb but the street is empty and quiet.

He sees you out of the corner of his eye as you and approach, he can’t help but turn his head when he notices the length of your legs or the sway of your hips. He swallows the need that climbs his throat, a sly smile slotting into place as you open the door.

“Hi,” you whisper softly as you slide into the passenger seat of Eddie’s van. It smells just like him; tobacco, weed, bergamot and leather. A scent that makes you hum appreciatively as you get comfortable, finally turning to him.

His gaze is already on you, appreciating the skin that’s exposed to him. Eyes roaming over your thighs and the tops of your breasts. Images of that night flashing in his mind but he shakes his head.

This was business.

“I’ve got a little bit of weed, some special k if you’re into that, and pretty sure I have some bars but I wouldn’t recommend that. Pick your poison,” his eyebrow arches as he waits for your response and you can’t help but chuckle at him.

“So serious,” you tease, voice dropping low with a shake of your head.

Eddie rolls his eyes, a crooked grin pushing a dimple into his cheek. He can’t help but find you cute despite his best efforts.

“What if I want,” you pause, “something else?”

Your words are loaded, full of innuendo that’s lost on Eddie.

“I mean, I could try to get it for you. Just depends on what it is, sweetheart.” He shrugs his shoulder, his gaze still holding yours.

“I’m sure you can,” you chuckle and run your hands over your thighs nervously. What do you even say?

The movement catches Eddie’s attention, his gaze drifting back to your exposed skin and you catch a glimmer of want in his cinnamon eyes.

“About that night,” you start and Eddie’s gaze meets yours.

“Yeah,” he begins at the same time. He was sure you regretted it, positive that you wished that you hadn’t agreed to him joining you and Steve.

The dejection settles into his gut as he waits for the words to spill from your lips.

“I can’t stop thinking about it,” you say, fingers playing with the them of your shorts.

His head darts up, he wasn’t expecting that.

“What?” His voice is incredulous, and he was sure he imagined it.

You turn your body towards him and reach for his hand, playing with the rings that adorn each finger.

“I said, I can’t stop thinking about it…about you.”

There’s no mistaking the words or the desire written in your gaze and Eddie swallows hard.

“Is that why you messaged me?” His voice is a little cocky as he leans closer, his warm breath fanning across your skin eliciting goosebumps along your arms.

You nod, eyes darting to the swell of his lips. Desperate to taste him.

“Say it,” he demands, the previous uncertainty all but evaporated as he watches you squirm.

Your eyes dart back to his and you swallow hard.

“Yes,” your voice is smaller than before, the desire restricting your breathing as you think of all the ways you need him.

He groans at the way you’re looking at him, a little needy. A little pathetic.

Eddie puts the car in drive and steps on the gas, pulling away from your apartment without another word.

You don’t question him as he hurries through the streets, the tree line becoming more dense as he searches for a spot that’s private. Away from prying eyes.

An electric silence fills the van, a palpable need buzzing between the two of you. The minutes drag on as he searches for a spot and finally pulls into a clearing surrounded by trees that overlook the lake.

“Lover’s Lake?” You tease him, trying to bring levity to calm your racing heart.

“Get in the back,” he tells you, smoothing his hands over his jeans.

Your cunt clenches at his words, the way his voice sounds as he tells you what to do.

Without another word, you kick off your shoes and climb into the backseat. Eddie watches you from the rearview mirror, the way your shorts ride up and reveal the swell of your ass.

You lean back on your hands and meet his gaze in the mirror, waiting for him to join you.

“Take off your clothes,” he instructs with a hard voice, still watching you.

You slowly pushing down the straps of your tank-top. Pulling the fabric over your head, the heavy weight of your tits bouncing free and you don’t miss the way Eddie’s gaze widens as he looks at you. His eyes hooded over as they trace over the swell of your breasts.

A teasing smile pulls at your lips, as you trace your fingers down your abdomen and to the tops of your shorts. Watching him, watching you as your fingers push them off your hips along with your panties until you’re bare in front of him.

A groan escapes Eddie’s lips at the sight of your glistening pussy highlighted by the glow of the full moon.

He turns in his seat, eyes trained between your legs as you drag your finger over your center and shudder.

“Are you going to make me beg?” You question with a lift of your brow, creating circles along your clit and Eddie swallows hard. A playful glint in his gaze.

You sigh as the pleasure builds, and cup your breast with one hand. Squeezing the pebbled flesh between your fingers until your nipple is taut.

Eddie climbs into the backseat, and you crawl back on your hands to make room. His body hovers you, his warmth felt against every inch and a shudder ones through your spine.

His nose traces along your jaw, warm breath fanning against your neck and your breath stills. Anticipating the feel of his lips.

“Beg,” his voice is gruff, his lips a whisper over your skin, “like a good little slut.”

A low whine escapes your lips at the sound of his voice, at his choice of words and you keep rubbing circles against your sensitive bud.

“Please, Eddie,” you keen and his hands wrap around your wrist, stopping your movements.

“Please, what?” He asks, a little cocky but his pupils are blown.

“Fuck me,” and the words come out strangled by your growing need.

Eddie’s fingers replace yours, callused fingers rubbing against your sensitive clit.

“So fucking wet for me already,” he groans, watching as you buck against his hand. Chasing the mounting orgasm.

“Oh-“ you moan, holding his wrist against you but Eddie isn’t ready to let you come yet.

His hand withdraws from you abruptly, long fingers coated in your sticky arousal.

“Look at you,” he scoffs, voice gruff and affected, “just as fucking needy.”

You pull his hand towards you, eyeing him as you bring his slick fingers to your mouth.

Your pink tongue drags across each digit, slow and methodical. Gaze locked with his as you lap your nectar from each of his digits.

Eddie’s jaw goes slack as you pull his middle finger between your pouty lips and into your mouth, sucking down its length until your cheeks are hollow.

He groans your name softly, eyes hooded as he watches you.

You pull off his finger with a soft pop, and devilish smirk. You guide his hand over your breasts and down your body, gasping at the feel of his touch, until his hand cups your center.

“Please, fuck me,” you beg.

Without a second thought, Eddie is on you. His mouth pressed to yours in a bruising kiss, pushing your back against the soft carpet that lines the bed of his van.

You push at his leather jacket with his help, his mouth still latched to yours as he tosses it aside.

Needy fingers push at the edge of his shirt, tracing over the soft flesh of his stomach and over his chest.

He breaks from the kiss and removes his shirt, sparing you seconds to admire his alabaster skin dotted with freckles and tattoos. He throws the shirt over his shoulder before he’s on you again.

The kiss is anything but soft as his lips move over yours, his wide hands dancing down your smooth skin until they cup your ass.

Goosebumps spring along your flesh, heat thrumming in your veins as your pulse quickens with every push and pull of his lips.

His teeth graze your bottom lip, and your hips swirl of their own accord, in need of friction.

It feels like your body is thrumming with need, the kind of feeling you get when you’ve been in the sun all day. Nerve endings alive and sensitive.

Your fingers trail down his chest and over the small swell of his stomach to the tops of his jeans, tracing a line along the hem.

Eddie shudders and pulls away to watch as you dip your hand into his jeans. You palm his length, humming at the feel of his already-hardened erection.

Your fingers wrap around his length, stroking his shaft but constrained by the confines of his pants.

“Take these off,” your voice is filled with impatience making Eddie chuckle, but he doesn’t argue.

He pulls away from you, unbuttoning his jeans at an agonizing pace. You watch him, impatient hands pushing the material down his thighs along with his boxers.

You lick your lips as you watch his dick spring free and drag your hand over his hard cock. His hips buck into your palm as you begin to stroke him. Long, swift motions that have Eddie tilting his head back.

Your tongue swirls over his tip, and you moan when the salty taste of his precum coats your pink tongue. You wrap your lips around his head, dragging his dick further into your mouth. Watching him over your lashes as you begin to bob.

Instinctually, his fingers grip your hair, holding you against him as your pace quickens.

Your hand matches the pace your mouth sets, and you moan around his cock, loving the way he hits the back of your throat the deeper you take him.

“Jesus Christ,” he moans, his grip tightening and hips rutting up ever so slightly. You stop bobbing your head and grip his hips, pulling him deeper until he fits in the back of your throat. Encouraging him to fuck your mouth.

His hips move hastily, darkened eyes watching as you gag on his cock.

“So fucking pretty,” he groans, voice strained by the mounting pleasure.

Drool pools on either side of your mouth and down your chest as he continues with his pace. His cock hitting your uvula with every stroke.

You begin to massage his balls, and his hips stutter before he pulls his cock from your mouth.

“Fuck!” He curses, pulling his dick from between your lips, lines of spit still connecting you two.

You watch him through hooded lashes, dragging the tips of your nails over his thighs.

“I’m not going to last if you do that,” Eddie’s voice is hoarse, and he rubs an affectionate thumb over your mouth, dragging your lip down with his digit.

“Such a pretty fucking mouth,” he groans, and you start to push his jeans further down his legs.

Eddie kicks them off until both of you are bare, chests rising and falling rapidly with the intensity of your need.

He hovers over you, pushing your back against the carpet with the weight of his chest until the hairs lining his sternum rub against the curve of your breasts.

He kisses your jaw, creating a trail down your chest, over your ribs, and to the line of hair covering your mound.

Eddie drags his finger along your folds, gathering your slick before bringing it to his mouth and pulling it between his lips, a low groan rumbling from his chest as your tangy sweetness slides across his tongue.

He dips his head between your legs dragging his tongue across your pussy, just as you imagined. A moan escapes your lips, and you curl your fingers in his hair, holding him close.

His tongue flicks against your clit, as his spit-slick finger nudges at your entrance. Your aching cunt sucks him in, wrapping around his digit, and he curls it inside you. Slowly, he begins to drive it in and out of you—the squelch of your sopping hole filling the van.

Eddie’s mouth wraps around your clit, sucking it between his lips and sending electricity through your veins.

“Oh my fuck-,” you cry, bucking against his face. Chasing the building orgasm. He adds another finger, his pace increasing. Trying to pull the orgasm from you, but the stretch of his fingers isn’t enough.

“I need you inside me,” you whine, tugging at his hair until his weight is pressed against you.

Your mouth is on his, licking your arousal from his pretty lips as you kiss him deep—a carnal hunger needing to be satiated.

You spread your legs so he can slot between them and reach between your bodies so he’s lined up with your entrance.

He isn’t slow with his movements, rutting his full length into you and swallowing the scream his movement elicits. His cock pumps into you at a brutal pace, pushing his full length into you until it hits your spongy center.

Eddie’s hand wraps around your throat, applying just enough pressure to make you hum with pleasure.

Your pussy clenches around his cock, nails digging into his back as he continues to fuck into you.

“Is this what you wanted?” He groans, face close to yours. The sound of his skin slapping against yours like music.

You nod but it doesn’t satisfy him.

“Use your words,” his teeth graze your lips and you let out a guttural moan.

“Yes, Eddie. Wanted you so bad,” you pant, eyes rolling as he continues to hit the spot that makes your toes curl.

He stops abruptly, pulling his dick from you and flipping you onto your stomach. He grabs your hips until your butt sticks in the air. You wiggle your ass against him, a silent plea for more and he laughs. A mocking sound that sends electricity to your cunt.

Eddie slaps the fat of your ass, once. Twice. Three times before he drags the head of his cock along your folds.

“Such a pretty fucking pussy,” he grumbles, teasing you with his tip. Watching as you suck him in.

“Please-“ you beg, pushing your ass back trying to get more.

He slaps your ass again and you wince, moaning at the sensation.

Eddie gives you another inch before quickly taking it away, his grip on your ass tightening.

It’s as much as a tease for him as it is for you.

You look at him over your shoulder with pleading eyes just as he ruts into his you. Your fingers curl around the material of the carpet as he slams into you.

Eddie watches the way your ass bounces against his pelvis, the way your pussy wraps around his cock and he throws his head back. Already close to coming undone.

He reaches a hand around your waist and presses to fingers against your bud.

“I want you to come on my cock,” he demands, “just like last time.”

Your grip around him tightens at his words, remembering last time.

The orgasm is already building in your center, a tension you can feel in your trembling legs.

“Oh, Eddie,” you gasp as the rubber band pulls tighter and he doesn’t stop.

He keeps the same pace, pumping every inch of his cock into your cunt as his fingers rub mean circles against your clit.

“Eddie, Eddie, Eddie,” you chant his name.

“Are you going to come on my cock liked I asked?” He leans over and whispers in your ear.

“Please-“ you beg even though he’s already given permission.

“Come for me, baby.” He groans, teeth dragging along your shoulder as your cunt clenches around his length.

The orgasm is intense, ripples of pleasure coursing through you and stealing your breath.

Eddie grunts when he feels you tighten, still rutting into you at the same pace, fingers still pressed to your bud.

“Oh, Eddie,” you finally cry and his hips stutter as your pussy flutters around him.

“Shit,” he mutters, wrapping his hand around your neck as he fucks into you harder. Chasing his own release.

“Where do you want it?” He asks between pants and you nearly come again from thinking about him filling you.

“I-inside,” you beg.

“Such a filthy little slut,” he groans, dragging his cock in and out of you.

The muscles in his abdomen constrict, and the grip he had on your hips tightens as pleasure courses through his veins.

He moans your name as his release coats your walls with ropes of his warm seed.

You whimper as he fills you, turning to watch the way his eyes roll to the back of his head as he thrusts and spills the last of his cum inside you.

Eddie looks at you, hair disheveled and cheeks a bright pink. Mouth agape. The same way he looked the first night and you can’t help the hint of affection that unfurls in your chest.

He slowly pulls his softening length from inside of you, grunting at the loss of your warmth.

He slaps your ass, softer than before and looks between your legs where his come is beginning to spill out of you.

“You’re a mess,” he chuckles and reaches around for one of the extra shirts he has lying around.

“‘S all I have,” he shows you and you nod, hips bucking forward as he cleans the excess.

He squeezes your hips and you turn around, eyes hooded. A satisfied grin pulled across your face.

Eddie can’t help but think you’re cute, an absent hand with a mind of its own moving to caress your cheek but neither of you speak. Not yet.

Seconds pass in shared silence as each of you dress, searching the back of his van for your discarded clothes.

He climbs into the front first, turning to help you into the passenger seat. You pull the visor down, startled by your disheveled appearance, and begin fixing your hair.

“Does Harrington know,” he clears his throat, “that you’re here?”

You apply a quick line of lip gloss before turning to him.

“Not exactly,” you shrug. Part of you feels guilty, the part that still loves Steve and knows that he’s only okay with it if he gets to watch.

But there’s another part of you, the one that is louder, that can’t ignore how Eddie makes you feel. Even as he’s looking at you with those chestnut eyes, an amused grin pulled to the side and a dimple pressed into his cheek.

“Do you want to tell him?” You tease and he shakes his head, rubbing an absent hand along his jeans.

“Not at all.”

“Then it can be our secret,” you lean over the middle console and find his gaze.

“Yeah, okay-“ he agrees with a nod of his head.

He searches your face and swallows hard, nowhere near as domineering as he was minutes ago.

“But you should text me instead,” he suggests, and you know it’s an excuse for him to get your number.

You reach over and grab his phone from his pocket, dialing your number until your phone rings.

“Now I have your number and you have mine,” you grin, eyes trained on his lips and you push his cell back where it was.

“And we can meet again,” you promise, brushing your lips against his before kissing him sweet.

His hands reach up and rest on either side of your face, holding you to him as the kiss deepens and his tongue slides across yours.

Eddie hums at the way you taste, a mix of cherries and something close to sin.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Farmer's Daughter 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Walter Marshall

Summary: You notice a peculiar change in a family friend. (short!reader, sorry size kink is out)

Part of the Backwoods AU

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You stand on your tiptoes, a dangerous choice as you stand on a wooden stool, reaching to clip pegs around the folded edge of the linen sheet. You clasp it over the cord in three places and reel along the length, bending to pull a wet pillowcase from the basket.

“You’re grinding on the clutch,” Walter’s voice carries through the barn door before he emerges, “you need another driving lesson.”

“I know how to drive stick,” your brother, Timothy, argues with the larger man. “It’s not the clutch.”

“Ermph,” the other man grunts in return.

“Thanks for having a look though,” Timothy slaps his arm lightly.

He gets another grumble from the chronically grumpy man. Walter is older than your brother, by quite a bit; and you too. He’s tall and burly and his brow never truly loses its furrow. He’s fonder of your father than Timothy; you’re sure if he didn’t feel some kinship with your father, he’d never venture this far.

Walter is a big, burly man. He has a lumbering gait you can recognise even as he’s at the property’s edge, and his curly hair falls messily around his chiseled face. There’s a touch of silver in one curl but his age doesn’t show otherwise.

You refocus on hanging the laundry. You stand on your toes and strain to clip the beg on the line. The stool wobbles and you put your feet flat, steadying it. You suck in your lower lip and look around. Timothy’s gone, you hear him back in the barn clattering through the toolbox, but Walter remains. He narrows his eyes at you as you give a sheepish smile.

“Hi, Mr. Marshall,” you say.

“Hey,” he returns in his way.

You don’t expect much more so you wind the line further and once more bend to take another piece of clothing. You quickly forget his presence and go back to your precarious game. Back on your toes, the stool tips and you gasp, a scream catching in your throat as you brace yourself for the violent tumble.

You don’t hit the ground though. You barely even tip as you're caught under the arms. You open your eyes as Walter holds you well over the ground. He does so effortlessly. 

“I… Mr. Marshall, thank you,” you breathe.

“You shouldn’t do that,” he grits.

“Um, I know,” you wiggle your feet and look at the ground, “um, can you put me down.” He does just that and you laugh at yourself, “thanks.”

“Hm,” he sidles down to the basket. 

To your surprise he takes out the next sheet and easily throws it over the line. He holds out a hand but you just stare at his calloused palm. What is he doing?”

“Pin,” he demands gruffly.

“Oh, uh, sure,” you step up and place a pin in his hand. His fingers brush around yours as he closes them. You retract your reach as he clasps it over the linen. He puts his hand out for the next and again, you hand one over.

“Don’t do it again,” he says as he grabs the next piece of laundry.

“Mr. Marshall, I won’t, but you don’t need to–”

“It’s fine,” he carries on, set on his mission of putting out the drying. “Your father wouldn’t be happy if I let you hurt yourself.”

“Erm, I guess,” you give him another pin.

He’s silent as his blue gray eyes fixate on his chore. He bends to grab more, drapes the cloth over, and takes a pin to secure it in place. You work in wordless rhythm until the basket is empty and the line is full.

“How is he?” He asks.

You put your hands behind you and wring them, “better. Ma says he’ll be home next week.”

He nods and looks at you. He crosses his arms, straining the fabric of his long-sleeved tee. It’s warm out, enough to dampen his shirt with sweat. Still, he doesn't seem to mind.

“If you need anything,” he peers around the fields, “big place for just you and the other one.”

“Oh, Tim? Yeah, we manage.”

He scratches the scruff on his chin and shifts his stance. You’ve never seen him flinch before, never hesitate or doubt, but in that moment, he seems unsure. He clears his throat and drops his hand.

“Well, have a good day,” he bows his head slightly. “Have your brother take down the laundry.”

You look away guiltily, staring at the stool, “you, too, Mr. Marshall.”

He backs away a few steps and you cautiously glance at his boots as he does. He stops and you hold your breath.

“I don’t mind Walt,” he says.

“Right,” your voice flutters, “Walt.”

He twists on his heel and continues across the grass to the trodden road. He follows it down towards the fence. You tear your gaze away and gather up the basket and the stool. You leave them on the porch and sit in the shade as sweat speckles on your forehead.

Your heart is still racing, likely from your near disastrous slip. You think you will have Timothy take down the sheets. You may even convince him to help your fold.

[rainychaoloveshack]

ﾟ ⋆ ﾟ ☂︎ ⋆ ﾟ 𝐋𝐚𝐭𝐞-𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐇𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐲. 𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐞𝐝𝐠𝐞𝐡𝐨𝐠.

you accidentally woke up shadow after some drinking. oops.

⋆°•☁︎ content. shadow x gn!reader, mentions of drinking, slightly tipsy shadow (he’s pretty sweet), kinda ooc, very very fluffy, mentioned engagement

☂︎ wc. 1k ☂︎ a/n. this is kindaaa a spiritual successor to this fic, cause i ended up using the fiance idea again huehehe… (maybe like a sweet moment a few days after?) the stories aren’t directly linked but they can be! its sorta like a series but they work as standalones lol

likes, reblogs, and especially comments are extremely appreciated!!! (i like chatting to you guys!)

“What’s wrong, honey?” Your fiancé's gruff voice breaks you from your thoughts, and you turn your head to meet his crimson gaze, glancing up at you curiously from his laid-out form. You almost didn’t catch the use of your nickname at the end, one he rarely uses unless on a special occasion.

This special occasion happens to be from your late drinking party with him around three hours ago. A mission went well, spectacular even, deserved a celebration, even if it was something small between the two of you. Shadow rarely drinks, but he held his liquor better than you thought he would, downing more drinks than you’ve ever seen him do.

Not well enough that he had to be assisted by you to your bedroom, unfortunately. He was insistent on sleeping beside you tonight.

“Was it a nightmare?” He shifts around on his side, his eyes looking into yours with a half-lidded stare, still clearly drowsy, with the way his voice almost slurred at the end of his words. But you shake your head and try to ease his drunken worries with a smile, reaching over to pet his head.

Shadow accepts your gesture with no protest, not even a frown or a flinch away, and his eyes shut once you make contact, ears tilted down and twitching as you pet the red stripe on his head, whispering sweet nothings to him as you enjoy his favorable reaction.

“[N-Name]...” He purrs, letting a small smile spread across his mouth. “Ah, stop it, stop it…” He grumbles, his words not matching his mannerisms, giving up trying to sound menacing as his ear flickers in your direction. A chuckle gives out from your throat before giving him one last pet with the back of your hand, settling yourself down from waking up so suddenly. Flipping back over and lying on your back, your eyes shut as you try to catch some much-needed shut-eye after tonight's celebration, yet you can feel Shadow’s stirring and shuffling around from the mattress, and your eyes peel back open to see what’s the matter with him.

“You know it’s my day off tomorrow.” Shadow says gently, finding his way over to your side, the soft mattress compressing below you two. “Do you have anything special planned?” His chest fur brushes against your arm, rising and falling with his slow breaths as he awaits your answer in anticipation, tail wagging back and forth slowly under the blanket you two share. It seems he doesn’t care to hide it tonight like he usually does. “You do, huh? Is it a date?”

You respond with a small shake of your head, and a frown spreads onto his muzzle as he tenses up slightly, displeased at your bland answer as his tail stops immediately. You really didn’t have anything planned; a simple day in with Shadow is good enough for you.

But it looks like he doesn’t like the thought of that this time. “I don’t want to just stay in the apartment tomorrow.” He mutters, his ear flicking once you poke and fidget with the tip of it as he speaks.  “I want to go out. I want to spend time with you outside…” 

The fact that Shadow’s so blunt tonight catches you off guard, forcing a small twitch through your arm as your brain processes it and forces a double take.

“What?” Shadow registers the shocked expression on you, and tries to get out a menacing growl, but it falls flat. “What’s with that face?”

You shake your head, shrugging your shoulders as your fingers find their way to his quills, trying to distract him from your reaction to his forwardness. It seems to work well as he nudges his head up into your hand, before shuffling around to straddle himself above you, easing himself down onto your body as he leans forward, almost pinning you down against the bed, but then he drags a lone finger down your arm gently.

“Let’s go walk around Station Square.” Shadow murmurs, leaning down and tracing imaginary circles on your chest. “I want to go out with you; I want to…” His voice trails off, a blush spreading across his muzzle, along with a small frown; clearly aggravated by something. Perhaps it's about the fat, amused grin on your face? 

“You’re making fun of me in your head.” Maybe a little. Yet you lie to him by shaking your head no, but he already knows the truth.

He clicks his tongue, shuffling off and sitting back on the bed as another growl grows in his throat. “It’s not funny.” You sit up onto your elbows to meet his gaze, cocking your head to the side giving him an amused yet happy smile.

Your future husband is so cute, tipsy or not.

His brows furrow, yet he leans down and cups your cheek with a hand, pressing a small kiss on the other, then tilting your face up to give you a quick kiss on the lips, smiling during it as you lean into him. He scoots back to you, and rests his body down next to yours, snuggling his head against your chest as he hugs your torso.

It’s always been hard for Shadow to express his feelings directly, whether it be ones of love or sorrow. Maybe he won’t feel so embarrassed about it when the sun rises; perhaps he will. Who knows? While the embarrassment may be present, he means every word he says out of his mouth. Of course, he does. And you never doubt it for a second.

“I love you, [Name]. Goodnight.”

⋆°•☁︎⋆°•☁︎⋆°•☁︎

“Rouge, I was acting like a pure idiot that night. I woke up feeling like some imbecile. I couldn’t even look them in the eye. It’s not something that I can just-”

“Now why would they care about something like that, Shadow? You know they love you.”

“Yes, yes, of course, I know that, but-”

“Honestly, you worry too much about how you act around them. You’re both engaged for crying out loud! Some honesty with your emotions would do both of you some good. You’re lucky they’re such a patient lover.”

“Hmm.”

“So… How was your date with them? Was it fun? I haven’t had time to talk to them about it in detail, but they seemed happy about it when I brought it up in passing. Mentioned some real nice things about you. And about what happened that night…”

“Really? What did they say?”

“That’s between me and [Name].”

“Damn it, Rouge-”

“Yeah, whatever lover boy. I gotta go; shopping with the girls and all. See ya!”

"Rouge-"

"Ah..."

“Useless bat.” 

[megamindsecretlair]

Ur MM fic was soooo good!!! Pls write more of him I beg😭🫶🏾

A/N: no need to beg, you know I got you anon! Make sure to show some love to @planetblaque and @soft-persephone for their MM fics!

Leaving Me Sleepless

Pairing: Neighbor!Mother's Milk x Neighbor!Black!Fem!reader/plus size reader

Warnings: 18+ only. MINORS DNI. You are in charge of your own reading experience. Age gap, more so late 20s/early 30s, but can be read however. Dom Mother's Milk, Cursing, PIV, SMUT, FLUFF, fingering (fem receiving), oral (male and female receiving), D/s elements, Sorry if I missed others. Season 1 MM, no spoilers for the show. Divorced MM. Brat reader. Corruption kink if you squint. Possession Kink. Size kink.

Summary: You were ready to start a new chapter of your life, moving into your first house all by your lonesome. Done with waiting on others to get their lives together, you were finally pursuing the life you wanted. You had everything planned, until you didn’t. 

Marvin comes to your rescue, turning a stressful day into something sweet and full of laughs. An easy friendship builds between you. Only you can’t wait any longer to see if this is one sided. You decide to start toying with Marvin, just to see how long it would take him to break.

AO3 Link

Word count: 10,515k

A/N: I don't know what it is about this man. But enjoy my brainrot! Love him dowwwnnn. Toss a coin to your blogger by leaving a comment, reblog, or unhinged ask.

It wasn’t your intention to toy with your hot neighbor, Marvin. When you moved in, you were prepared to do it all yourself. You got a moving company to help you pack up your shit from your ex-boyfriend’s house. You successfully transferred your utilities to your new place, leaving that broke motherfucker with no power for a weekend. You were on top of it. 

Okay, so not everything was so smooth. You got a flat tire on the freeway, the moving van wrote down your address wrong, and when you arrived at your new place, no moving truck to be found, you had a breakdown about it. To be fair, it was a hard and emotional day. This was the first time you bought a house, did it by yourself, and you were nervous as hell.

Your family wasn’t the most supportive. They kept asking you if you were sure you were ready and what were you going to do with that big house to yourself? As if finally having some alone time and gaining safety for the first time in your life was a bad thing. So not having the moving truck at your new place was like an ill omen. 

You started to doubt yourself. What would you do with a house to yourself? You were responsible for everything now. It was on you to take the trash out, keep up with the lawn and maintenance, cook meals, wash your sheets. The pressure of your decision crushed you to pieces until the dam broke and the tears were falling like crazy.

You hadn’t called the moving truck just yet. You needed time to break down before you pulled yourself together. You were a strong, independent woman and you were going to be okay. Like you always were. 

Marvin was just getting home from wherever he spent his time and saw you in front of your new place, standing on the curb and trying hard to hide your crying. You only had a few bags in your car, essential things you knew you didn’t trust with the movers. Smart thinking, but it wasn’t a bed. It wasn’t cookware. It wasn’t anything you needed to have a successful first day in your new place. The sun was losing its heat, traveling across the sky like the moon was on its heels. 

Marvin called out to you, walking up like he would single-handedly solve all of your problems. He wore a white T-shirt with the Wu Tang symbol on it. Medium wash jeans and white sneakers. He wore a gold chain as well, complimenting the golden hue of his skin. 

He also had a thick beard on his beautiful face. Neat and well-trimmed. But his eyes were the kindest you’d ever seen. In just a few minutes, it’d be easy to fall into the brown depths and never come up for air. 

You swiped at your eyes and smiled at him. “I’m okay, I’m fine!” You said, waving him off. Why was it that fine ass men always popped out when you looked like hell? You were currently wearing raggedy blue sweats with mysterious stains all over, some from bleach, paint, or whatever other dirty job needed done. Your lavender shirt had seen better days, the graphic on it cracked and nearly faded away. Your tennis shoes were peeling in one corner, but these were your most comfortable and didn’t want to give them up.

And ugh, your hair. You looked tore up from the floor up and you did not need your neighbor meeting you like this. Why couldn’t he catch you on your way out to the club or out to eat with your friends? You had a new, gorgeous leopard print dress in your moving van, with sexy three hoop gold earrings that were calling your name. Fuck me heels that made your ass look amazing. Why couldn’t he meet you then?

“Is everything alright? Are you sure?” He asked. 

God, that voice. You smiled and nodded, clutching your phone for dear life. He needed to move away, now. You wish the neighbors were out when you were scoping the house. If you knew he looked like that, you would have never shown up like this. The embarrassment was killing you. 

“I’m okay, Mr…?” You asked.

He smiled. “Call me Marvin, please,” he said. 

You introduced yourself. Sexy name matching a sexy man. He was so damn broad and thick. Just how you liked ‘em. But no, no, you promised yourself to focus on you right now. On getting this house set up exactly how you liked it. You weren’t going to have a traditional housewarming party. You weren’t going to invite all that negative energy into your new place. This new period in your life was about you, getting your mental stronger, your life together. Focus on your goals and finally getting started on your lifelong dreams. Nowhere in that plan you dreamt up with your best friend did it include a man. 

“Are you sure there’s nothing I can help with?” He asked. He sounded and looked so sincere, that your shoulders slumped and you sighed, looking down the street like it would magically conjure the moving truck. 

“It’s silly,” you said and rolled your eyes, waving away his concern. 

Marvin smiled and tilted his head. “Try me. You’d be doing me a favor actually. I only had plans to go inside, grab a beer, and pig out. You’d be saving me from getting fat and lazy,” he said, patting his stomach. That smile.

You couldn’t help but giggle, checking him out. And letting him know that you were checking him out. “There’s no chance in hell you’d end up fat and lazy,” you told him. He chuckled and rubbed his beard, his thumb swiping at the corner of his mouth. 

“You never know. These things add up. And you’re changing the subject,” he said. 

You sighed and suppressed a smile. Fine. Fine. You broke down and told him the whole ordeal. That you were moving in and waiting for your truck. Marvin cursed softly, excusing his words, and asked for the number to the movers. 

He used his own phone to call them, getting in their asses about taking advantage of you. They knew exactly where your house was and if they weren’t here in thirty minutes, giving you a steep discount for their actions, then he’d report they ass on their website, on social media, and anyone else who’d listen. 

Your mouth dropped listening to him. He was in complete control, not taking an ounce of slack from the movers. All of your interactions with them had been cordial, but there were enough times where you thought you were on them too much. You were trying to escape your ex’s house before he came home. You felt like a screaming harpy, telling them to move their ass. 

A little bass from a man and suddenly they could hop to. Fucking pigs. When Marvin was done, he smiled. “There, they’ll haul ass now. I’m sorry they did that to you,” he said.

You waved him off. “No way, you’re my hero. I would’ve been arguing for an hour to get them to show up with enough daylight to put things where I need,” you said. The relief you felt was almost indescribable. All thanks to a friendly neighbor. With no wedding ring, you might’ve observed.

“You wanna come inside and wait? I mostly have beer, but maybe some juice? Water?” He asked.

You bit your lip, feeling awkward and gross but he was just so helpful. You didn’t want to give that up just yet. “Are you sure I wouldn’t be a bother?” You asked.

“I promise,” he said. 

You nodded. Well, fuck it. You followed him to his place, stepping inside his place hoping for the best. You were blown away actually. His place smelled amazing, light like lemon and something breezy or tropical. 

The place was spotless, not a cushion out of place. His living room was nice and spacious, with a thick rug underneath the couch and coffee table. You sat down while Marvin went to grab you some water. 

Marvin asked you questions about yourself and you asked him questions about him. You found out he was divorced, amicably, and they shared a beautiful daughter together. He worked with inner city youth at a detention center, keeping knuckleheads from making dumb ass mistakes. 

The more he talked, the more you started to see a clearer picture of him. He paid extra care to cleanliness letting you know that he’d never, ever tolerate being in your place. You weren’t a slob, but you weren’t Johnny on the spot either. Sometimes dishes piled up or you lounged in bed all day. You could already see and hear the arguments, the disgusted looks, the pot shots. 

You subtly sighed. Too bad. He’d make someone a fine ass husband one day. While you talked, the moving van showed up in record time. You tried saying bye to Marvin, but he insisted on staying to make sure the movers didn’t try to get over on you again.

Thanks to Marvin, the movers moved the heavy shit where it needed to go and brought your boxes to the rooms they were assigned to. You had more than enough time to unpack what you needed tonight, clean out the bathtub and kitchen, so that you could bathe in your new place and cook in your new place. 

You offered to cook something for Marvin, but he excused himself, saying he took up enough of your time. He hoped you had a good night and now that you were neighbors, he told you not to be a stranger. He was like a buff fairy godmother and you couldn’t stop thanking him as he left.

“No thanks, necessary. I’m just glad I was around. Did you get a chance to change the locks yet?” He asked.

You shook your head. You hadn’t even thought to do so. “If you buy some new locks, I can install them for you. Get some with a longer latch,” he said.

You stared at him blankly with an adorable smile on your face. “And that means…?” You asked. 

Marvin chuckled. “If you like, I’m free tomorrow and we can go to the store. Get some things to make sure you’re safe in here,” he said. He stood in the doorway, framed by a darkening sky. The white shirt glowed against his skin. He looked like an angel. Or maybe that was just your thinking because of how incredible he was. 

“I’ve taken up enough of your weekend,” you said, looking down and playing with invisible lint by the door. 

Marvin waited until you looked back at him to smile. “You can’t be a bother if I volunteer. Here, take my number, and if you need anything, just call or text. No matter the day or time,” he said. 

You took his number and gave him yours, giggling to yourself. “You don’t like me being here all by my lonesome, do you?” You asked.

He chuckled and nodded. “I know, I sound like an old-fashioned old man. You can absolutely take care of yourself. But I’m around, okay?” He asked.

You nodded, thanked him again, and finally let him leave your stoop. You closed and locked the door behind you, leaning back against it, and squealed to yourself. He was an impossible dream. An angel. A hero. Your savior. You’d still be outside crying your eyes out while the movers hemmed and hawed about your most precious possessions. 

You daydreamed for a few minutes, letting the crush finally take over. There may never be a future, but he was sweet. And fun. And so caring it hurt. 

You threw on some tunes and started dancing around your space, getting the essentials cleaned up that day. You started in the bathroom, the one place you refused to let get dirty. First, because it grossed you out and second, because you liked taking relaxing baths with candles and music. 

And so on it went. Marvin did take you to the hardware store the next day, being patient with you and explaining why you needed this or that. Some of the items you genuinely did know about, but he was so adorable explaining things to you. He was patient, never acted put out, and never made you feel dumb for asking so many questions.

Perhaps it was then that it all started. Acting ditzy whenever he came around. Not enough to be obvious. But just so helpless unless he swooped to the rescue. And you always thanked him by calling him your hero, heaping praises on him, and making sure to grip his thick biceps and looking into his eyes as you expressed your gratitude.

As the weeks and months passed, you fell into an easy friendship with him. Your work hours aligned with his, sometimes arriving home at the exact same moment. Intending to just catch up for a few minutes, there were times you almost got sick standing outside in the cold air with him talking. 

If he “happened” to make extra food, he made sure to bring it over and he promised that you were doing him the favor. If you “happened” to make extra food, you returned the sweet gesture, passing the same dishware back and forth. 

You always texted first to make sure he didn’t have company. One day, he laughed riotously and told you that he wasn’t seeing anyone. And his friends weren’t the “come over and hang out” type. 

“And you talk about me being in a house all by myself,” you scolded him playfully, and made sure to drop by just because. You told yourself that you were just being harmless, just making sure to repay him for being so sweet to you as a neighbor. 

You weren’t sure when the teasing started. Whenever you talked to Marvin, it seemed like you were having a different conversation with your bodies. He made you warm all over. His presence and his smell already drew you in. But his protective nature and sense of humor made sure you were downright smitten.

You touched his arm or hand whenever you could. He’d find ways to step closer, or place his hand on the small of your back as he moved around you in the kitchen. Whenever you’d join him on the couch watching sports, you began to sit closer and closer together, thighs pressed together, and bumping shoulders. 

But he never picked up on your hints. You weren’t even sure what kind of hints you were throwing out there so you couldn’t entirely blame him. You had a feeling that he just wouldn’t accept your place. It was why you were usually at his place and not the other way around. Did you want him to kiss you? Grab you? Snatch you up? 

There were plenty of times you daydreamed about having your wicked way with him. What he’d look like when he let himself loose and grabbed you like he didn’t want to let go. Maybe he wouldn’t be into someone younger? 

There were quite a few years separating you, but hell. The dating pool was ass nowadays. These men acted like they had no home training. Like they thought the best jewelry, cars, and clothes were enough to snare a woman but their dick game was just as terrible. A bunch of pretty packaging on trash.

Marvin looked like he’d fuck well. He moved precisely, taking care to make himself as un-intimidating as possible, as welcoming as possible. Sometimes you stared outside of your window when he got home from the gym. His dick bounced in his gray sweatpants, letting you know that he had more than enough equipment. But you were confused, lost, wondering if you just liked him because he made you feel safe when no other guy ever did. Not even your own dad.

Yeah, yeah, daddy issues. Whatever. You made sure to back away from Marvin when things sort of took a turn. You weren’t sure what was wrong with you. So it was best to back away and stop sending so many mixed signals. Besides asking Marvin to fix little things around your place. You made sure to clean up first.

One night, however, you were restless. Sleepless. You had opened your blinds in your bedroom, opening the windows as well to let in some cool air. You were unbearably horny. The porn and smut books weren’t cutting it. You threw on some sexy music, grabbed your favorite drink, and danced around your place in your panties and nothing else. Why not? You’d never done such a thing at your previous addresses, never feeling safe to do so. 

You were feeling mighty good, teasing yourself, letting the anticipation build up before you broke out your Black Noir dildo, when you turned around. Marvin had entered his own bedroom. All this time, you didn’t know your bedrooms faced each other. 

He had turned on his light, moving around his room. And the pervert in you watched. And stared. He took off the black shirt he had on, moving on to his pants. You looked away before you became too big of a pervert. But…it did give you a naughty idea. You dimmed the lights a little lower and continued dancing around your place, keeping your back turned to his window.

It may not work…but…you felt sexier. More alive. More naughty. Whether or not he actually saw something, it was enough to make you want to unplug your dildo and go to town right then and there. To imagine Marvin kissing all up and down your body, worshiping you. To get a sneak peak at the dick in his pants. You just knew he knew what to do with it. Felt it all over. 

You were lost in your daydream, you turned around to grab your drink. You looked across the way at Marvin who seemed to be spazzing out. He was windmilling, stepping backwards, and you giggled as you pretended not to notice. 

Interactions after that were…interesting. Marvin couldn’t look you in the eye after that. You’d ask and poke and prod, and he’d laugh it off, giving you some excuse about not being able to sleep. You pouted and continued to rely on him for little things. The sink wasn’t working? Call Marvin. Door was stuck? Call Marvin. 

Every time, you walked him to the door asking if there was anything you could help him with and he’d only tell you he was happy to help, bid you goodnight, and then entered his house. The little minx in you couldn’t let it go. Had to see how far you could push him and what he’d do if he snapped.

You were thoroughly in love with your sweet neighbor and you wanted to torture him right out of his pants. Your bed was against the wall, opposite the door, so your windows were on the left. From what you could puzzle out, Marvin’s bed was similar. So if you happened to lay on the bed and pleasure yourself, there would be no mistaking what you were doing. 

So you did just that. The first time, you were nervous as hell. You waited till you texted Marvin good night, that you were going to turn in early. He bid you goodnight and then you waited. Waited for him to enter his room and move around the space. All you saw was a dark shadow, but you knew that he was up here for you. Or you wished for that to be true in either case.

You had your own lights dark enough to not see anything, but dim enough to not mistake it for anything else. And you pleasured yourself with your vibrator, imagining that Marvin could see everything and was wishing it was him. You pictured him sitting in the window, rubbing his sweaty hands on his pants, trying to resist touching himself. But the urge was too strong. Dick straining against his pants. So he’d take it out just to hold it. Just to relieve some of the ache. 

But then he’d see your legs moving, your hands going in and out, rubbing across your titties, and he’d know. And he’d groan. That sexy, deep, needy rumbling like he just couldn’t help himself. He’d start slowly, just absently touching himself. Stroking himself to the image of you pleasuring yourself and knowing that he could do it better. 

“Oh god, oh god,” you whined in the empty room, soft R&B music and the low vibrator the only sounds in the room. You wished it was his heavy breathing. His moaning in your ear. Was he a moaner? Did he moan while he was deep in it? 

Your clit throbbed so you pulled the Black Noir dildo out of you and rubbed it against your clit. You moaned, breathing heavier. You pictured Marvin holding it there, torturing you. Just because he was sweet didn’t mean he couldn’t be mean sometimes, right? 

The vibrations against your clit was torture and you held it there. Your hands weren’t yours anymore. They were guided by a phantom Marvin. For all you knew, he could be fast asleep at the moment. But to you, he was right in the room with you. He was holding the dildo against your clit and commanding you to hold it. 

A dildo didn’t faze him. He knew women needed something extra to take them there. He was not intimidated by a vibrating toy when he knew his dick was everything you’d ever need. “Please,” you moaned, unable to help yourself.

Your belly twisted, clit throbbing painfully. Your thoughts were completely focused on phantom Marvin, picturing his shirt off, his powerful thighs exposed. You were no better than a man in the 18th century. A little bit of ankle and you were feral for Marvin. Overcome with thoughts of him. 

You were about to cum so you plunged the black dildo into your sopping wet pussy and dialed up the vibrator. You screamed as you came, possibly calling out his name? You weren’t sure what you were saying as you had the most powerful orgasm of your life, back bowing off of the bed, legs shaking. 

When you were done, you blinked into your dark room, staring up at the ceiling. Fuck. That was intense. And wrong. And so right, it hurt. You could learn to pick up after yourself some more, couldn’t you? Because if your fantasy was even a fraction of the real thing, you needed to fuck Marvin Milk. 

Obviously, you had to consult the Council. Your circle of close friends that you trusted to tell you the truth. To see if you were tripping or if you should pursue this thing with Marvin. 

“Girl, hell no!” Your friend, Story, exclaimed on the phone. You were currently on the phone with the Council, pleading your case. 

“If his game is anything like the pics you sent, I’m honestly surprised you not knocking boots already,” your other friend, Yalonda, said. 

“To be fair, she wanted to spend this time focused on her, not a man,” her last friend, Jayne, said.

“Right, thank you!” You said. You were currently making spaghetti, stirring the noodles and trying to gauge if they were done or not. You wanted to stop tossing noodles against the wall, but hell, how else were you supposed to tell? 

“And who said focusing on Marvin is not focusing on herself? Part of self-discovery is exploration. Need I bring up Voldemort?” Yalonda asked, earning a circle of disgusted groans.

“Chile, that man dead as far as I’m concerned,” Story said.

“Raggedy bitch,” Jayne chimed in.

You chuckled, loving your friends more and more. “I don’t think I can play with this man like that, ya’ll. He sensitive,” you said. 

There was a chorus of teeth smacking and grumbles. “But is he not grown? Like if you laid it out, would he not understand?” Story asked. 

You sighed. Would he? You’d known him plenty of months, but you hadn’t gone deeper into either of your pasts. Because he was just a neighbor, really. But a neighbor you had so much in common with. You genuinely liked spending time with him. You loved his sense of humor, loved that he was so giving. You were a homebody, preferring to be in your own space and alone, rather than snuggled up underneath someone else. You got the sense that Marvin was the same. Preferring to keep his own company.

“You know how men get in they feelings when women treat them like bitches. Like shit, we took a page out of your book, playa! We trynna get like you and now it’s a problem,” Yalonda said.

“Preach! Speak on it!” Jayne said. 

You giggled. “No one’s saying I got to marry the man. But I don’t think it’d be as casual as I’m picturing,” you said. 

“There ain’t a casual bone in your body, honey. And that’s okay! You can still focus on yourself while getting dicked down,” Jayne said. 

“But if Marvin come around talkin’ ‘bout he wants a relationship, now is she wrong or is he?” Story asked, taking the words right out of her mouth. 

On and on it went. The decision was always left up to you, but still. You valued their input and it helped you realize that you cared about Marvin. Cared about how he took care of you. You didn’t have to blow this out of proportion. You could start light. There was a possibility that Marvin would be just fine with a casual affair. He had a life, you had a life, you were both adults. 

“So what you gonna do?” Story asked. The line buzzed with bated breath from your friends. You stirred the meat, adding a teensy bit more oregano, when you sighed.

“I’m gon’ fuck that old man,” you said.

You pulled the phone away from your ear as the girls squealed, gassing you up. Reminding you that you were hot as hell and it was your divine right to fuck that old man. You giggled, now needing their help. You knew how to get guys interested, but with an older man like Marvin, you didn’t know what it would take. It was your first experience taking an older man seriously. 

Would your usual tricks work? No. With the Council’s help, you figured that you’d have to go through with torturing him out of his pants. 

You started the torture by ditching your comfortable, “let’s be friends” outfits and traded them for “Whoops, a little too tight” clothing. Lots of shorts. Lots of tank tops. Your first act was to make sure that you were outside, watering your grass, wearing short shorts and flip flops, bending over unnecessarily, waiting for Marvin.

Marvin arrived home just in time and got out of his car, his lips pressed together in disapproval. “Hey!” He called out. 

You waved to him, your shirt lifting and giving him a peek at your body. He walked up his driveway, stopping to look over at you. There was a short concrete wall separating your properties, no taller than your ankles. You sauntered over, and grinned at him, taking your hand off the trigger.

The nozzle dripped with water and you collected the drops, rubbing it into your neck and chest. “Whew! It was hot as hell today, huh? Did you make sure to stay hydrated?” You asked.

Marvin swallowed and his eyes seemed unfocused, looking down somewhere on your body. You wish you knew where. Was he an ass man? A breasts man? You needed something more from him to guide you in the right direction. 

“I should be asking you that,” he said, a smile crossing his face. 

You waved him off. “You’re too sweet to me, Marvin,” you said. 

He chuckled. “I promise I’m not,” he said. 

You engaged him in more innocent conversation, telling him about your job, and he told you about his day. You reached out and squeezed his hand. “You’re so cool for what you do, Marvin. It takes a strong man to see what you do and still show up for those kids,” you told him.

He had the most adorable look on his face. You wondered if people praised him enough. Thanked him enough for everything that he did. You let him go and grinned. “Anywho, I should let you get inside and rest,” you told him.

He looked like he wanted to tell you something, so you looked at him and tilted your head. “Have a restful evening,” he said, nodded to you, and then turned around.

You bit your lip, watching him walk away, wondering if you didn’t have to torture him that long before he caved. He looked like he was torturing himself enough. Your core heated up, picturing him being just as smitten with you. Just as in lust. If he was rubbing himself raw in the shower to images of you in his mind. 

You turned around and finished watering your lawn, heading back inside for the next phase of your torture. 

You spent the week being mysteriously busy. Marvin had slowed inviting you over so you used that time to make yourself as unavailable as possible. A little toxic, but you got yourself dressed up and took yourself out as if you were going on dates. You managed to leave sometimes, just as Marvin was arriving home. Sometimes you’d wave, sometimes you pretended not to see him.

Friday night, you waited to leave in that leopard print dress you had, fuck me heels making your ass look fantastic. You heard his car pull up, saw the lights move across your living room. You waited a beat, then exited your home.

“Hey!” Marvin called. You pretended not to hear. You tapped away on your phone, giggling and smiling at nothing, as you made your way to your car, pulling up your strapless dress. 

Marvin’s shoes crunched on your grass as he crossed your lawn, calling your name with a little more bass in his voice. You turned to him, a sweet smile on your face, and you watched him approach. 

“Got another date?” He asked. 

You bit your cheek to keep from smiling. “Marvin! You’re so sweet to worry! Yes, I’m going on another date. Do I look good?” You asked. You twirled, taking your time to show him every possible angle. 

“Dressed like that?” He asked. 

“You don’t like it?” You asked. You pouted, playing with your matching clutch bag. 

“Whoa, hey, you look amazing. I just…” he trailed off, looking at your outfit. You let him, smiling to yourself, but then cleared your throat.

“You just…?” You prompted.

“I don’t want to overstep my bounds. I just hope these men are nice to you,” he said.

You giggled. “I’m not,” you said and continued to giggle. At Marvin’s confused face, you stopped and shrugged. “Obviously, I would like a nice man. But the dating scene sucks. You should be lucky you swore it off. These people out here are animals. And I appreciate you looking out for me. But a girl’s got needs, you know?” 

“Needs?” He asked.

You nodded. “Oh yeah. All this hard work getting my place together. All the bullshit at work. I need to take the edge off too, you know,” you said. 

“So the…” he started but then stopped. 

“The what?” You asked, blinking innocently at him. 

Marvin shook his head, rubbed his beard. “I’m overstepping, I’m sorry,” he said. He smiled. “Have a great night. Let me know when you get home safe and sound, okay?” He reached out and rubbed your elbow. 

You deflated against your car, watching him walk away. What the hell was it going to take? You got into your car with a huff, all dressed up with no real destination in mind. Fuck it. You called the Council and decided to go clubbing. If you weren’t really going to fuck someone tonight, you can at least show off your outfit. Because you looked fucking amazing. 

You spent the night putting Marvin from your mind. You danced, you flirted your way to free drinks, you babysat Yalonda, poor thing never able to keep up with ya’ll. When you made it home, all the lights were off in Marvin’s place. You threw him a middle finger as you let yourself into your place, wondering if all this effort was even worth it. If Marvin even wanted to have sex with you. 

You spent the weekend in your feelings, moping around your place. You didn’t know what it would take to get Marvin into your pants. What were you missing? Why was he not interested? 

After spending Saturday moping, you finally decided to wash the grime of the day from you. You went to turn your shower on, but nothing came out. The pipes groaned, a strange knocking sound, but no water. You huffed, checking for possible culprits. Your sinks still worked, but not your shower.

You groaned, cursing the shower head from here to kingdom come. You didn’t want to call Marvin for this. You wondered if Story or Jayne would let you borrow one of their men to come fix it. You went to your room in search of your phone, when you remembered that it was Story’s anniversary and Jayne’s husband was sweet but useless as hell when it came to handy work. 

You stomped your foot, pouting, giving in to the temper tantrum coursing through your body. Your pride didn’t want to let you call Marvin for something so stupid. If he wasn’t interested in you, why didn’t he just say that? Why didn’t he shut your ass down? Why did he allow you to develop this stupid crush on him? 

You really wanted a shower. You didn’t do anything all day, but you couldn’t relax without a bath. It was the one first-world problem you didn’t want to have. You liked ready and easy access to hot water. And now you didn’t have it. And it was probably too late at night to call anyone else.

You stomped your foot again, walking into your living room and taking a peek behind your blinds. Marvin was watching TV in his living room like an old man. You smiled, despite yourself. There was nothing sexier than a man who was comfortable in his skin and in his own company. 

You sucked your teeth and finally dialed his number. You were in booty shorts and an oversized T-shirt. Not completely sexy, but not bad either. You held the phone to your ear while you scurried to your bedroom.

You may not be powerful enough to torture him out of his pants, but maybe direct seduction would work. You thought over every conversation you had with Marvin, every little self-deprecating joke he uttered, and wondered if he thought you wouldn’t be interested in him? 

If he thought he was too old, too old-fashioned, or “overstepping his bounds”. Who the fuck even said something like that? Men who thought no one was interested in them. Poor baby. This was your last chance. If being direct didn’t help, then he was either gay or still hung up on his ex-wife or simply didn’t want you. 

The phone rang a few times in your ear before Marvin’s rough voice picked up. “Hey, what’s going on?” 

“I’m sorry to bug,” you started and Marvin chuckled. 

“Didn’t I say you never bug?” He asked. 

“Yes, but…”

“No buts. What do you need?” He asked.

Was he aware of how hot he was? Did none of the women in his life give him a fucking clue? Four little words out of his mouth, in his sinful deep voice, was enough to make you moan. Was he that blind? 

You sucked your teeth and groaned. “My shower isn’t working. And feel free to say no! It’s just…” You paused to look through your lingerie. You didn’t want anything too revealing, like this was all a set up. But you wanted something that showed you meant business. None of what you owned fit the bill. You were used to younger guys. You wanted to get in, run their hands over your teddies or panties, and then get down to fucking. No foreplay. No talking. 

“Just what?” Marvin asked. Was it your imagination or did his voice get rougher? 

“It’s just, I get a little crazy about my showers. It relaxes me. Calms me down. I can’t live without taking a nice, long, hot, relaxing bath or shower,” you said. You shimmied out of your shorts and went to remove your oversized Tupac shirt when it dawned on you…you didn’t need anything fancy with Marvin. The point of direct seduction was to be direct. 

Marvin chuckled softly. “Say no more, sweetheart. I’ll be right over with my tools,” he said. You said goodbye, but your pussy throbbed with his endearing words to you. He’d never called you such a thing before. You stood in your bedroom, momentarily dazed. You wanted to be his sweetheart. So damn badly you could taste it. 

The doorbell rang, pulling you from your thoughts. Shit. Shit. You picked up your shorts off of the floor and threw them in the laundry basket, along with the clothes from the famous chair. You pushed it into your closet and then hurriedly walked to the front door, eyeing your surroundings.

Not the best, but luckily, you hadn’t left too much chaos in your wake getting ready this past week or moping today. You opened the door, grinning at Marvin. His eyes dropped to your legs for a moment before he looked back at you, smiling. 

You opened the door further, waving him inside. He stepped in, head on a swivel. You wondered if he had a military background. Safe inside, you closed and locked the door. “Thank you for coming over. You sure you weren’t busy?” You asked.

Marvin shook his head. “I’m an old man. All I do is my job and go home. I must seem pretty boring, huh?” He asked.

You shook your head. Feeling nervous all of a sudden. You’ve seduced men before. It was a thrill every time. But this felt different with Marvin. Felt different because he meant more to you than any of those other flings. You wanted to please him. It shouldn’t be a radical concept but it was. 

“You are the opposite of boring, Marvin. In fact, I think you’re pretty special,” you said.

Marvin laughed and shrugged his shoulders, walking deeper into your home. The kitchen was just in front and you prayed that he wasn’t looking at your dirty dishes. It wasn’t a lot, but it was enough to make you cringe. 

“I’m surprised you’re home on a Saturday night. Why aren’t you out on a date?” He asked.

You didn’t answer, forcing him to turn around to you. You were still leaning against the door, your head tilted towards him. “I haven’t found what I wanted,” you said. 

No games. No tricks. No attitude. You walked towards Marvin, okay sauntered, and when you got within his personal space, you looked at him. You locked eyes as you grabbed the toolbox out of his hands. You placed it on the nearest end table, taking his hands and leading him to the back of the couch. 

“What do you want?” He asked, eyebrow lifted, a scowl on his face. Did he really not have a clue? No idea of what you were feeling? This whole time, you thought you were a neon sign. Professing how much you wanted to fuck him. How badly you wanted to be wrapped in his arms. Underneath him. Welcoming him into your body. 

He wore another music shirt, N.W.A splattered across his chest. Gold chain gleaming in your warm lighting. Dark sweats. Dark shoes. He looked good enough to lick on. What a great idea, actually. 

“You. I want you,” you said. You stared into his eyes, sinking slowly to your knees. 

“What are you doing, sweetheart?” He asked. He tried to bend down, hands flying to your arms to lift you. You resisted, hands moving to his pants. 

“I’m telling you that I’m crazy about you and that I found a great way to thank you,” you said.

“Thank me?” 

“Yup. Thank you for welcoming me to the neighborhood, being sweet to me on my worst day, and becoming the best thing about my day, talking to you,” you said. 

Marvin relaxed against the back of your couch. “You don’t have to thank me for that,” he said.

“I know. I want to. Please, Marvin? You’d be doing me a favor,” you said. 

Marvin rested his hands on the back of the couch, so you began to tug his pants down. He wore nothing underneath, his thick dick bobbing up and down once freed. He was huge and growing by the second, as he stood at attention. 

“What kind of favor?” He asked. He sounded less unsure and more amused. So you leaned forward and kissed the tip of his dick. 

“I cannot scratch this really particular itch I have. I’ve tried ignoring it, I’ve tried pleasing myself. And nothing worked. Not even picturing you using my vibrator on me,” you pouted, licking his tip. 

“Don’t tell me that,” Marvin groaned. 

“Don’t tell you what? That I masterbate? Or I do it with your name on my lips?” You asked.

Marvin groaned and tapped the back of your couch. “I didn’t think you’d want this from me. That dress the other day made me want to drag you back inside the house,” he said.

You chuckled, pussy clenching at his confession. So he did like you! Really liked you! 

You gripped his dick, moving your hands softly up and down since he wasn’t properly lubed up yet. He groaned, looking down at you. 

“I wanted you to,” you said. 

Marvin chuckled. “I’ve wanted you since I saw you crying outside your house. I wanted to do anything to make you smile,” he said.

You sighed and rested your forehead against his thigh. “Don’t tell me that. Don’t be cute right now,” you said. 

Marvin laughed again and his dick bounced. You looked up at him. “I’ve pictured you on your knees too. Felt like a pervert, stroking to the pics you’ve sent me,” he said, referring to the innocent selfies you sent him, trying to cajole a few out of him. Something to keep you going in between spouts of seeing him. 

“You’ve jerked off to me?” You asked. 

Marvin nodded. “Did you intentionally masterbate in front of your bedroom window for me?” He asked.

Your thighs tingled. He had been watching! The confirmation of it made you clench even more, wanting so desperately to rush this. To speed things along. To pounce on him and not come up for air. 

You nodded. “I hoped you were watching,” you confessed.

Marvin smirked. “Is that right?” He asked.

You nodded and went back to nuzzling his dick. The sweet musk of him. He kept the hair here nice and trimmed, just like the rest of him. You were a little intimidated by it, but you were willing to try. 

You opened your mouth and suckled the head. Marvin groaned, his hand flying to your hair but then backing away. You chuckled. “You can play with my hair,” you told him.

Marvin’s hand went back to your hair, scratching lightly. Your eyes rolled and you went back to suckling him down further. Damn. No one’s ever done that for you before. It activated your demon brain, taking off the kid gloves. 

You sucked him down in one fell swoop. Marvin moaned, grabbing your hair and yanking painfully. You kept going, slobbering on his dick. Playing with his dick. Toying with it. Unleashing all that pent up horniness, disgusting daydreams, and filthy fantasies your mind had cooked up over the past few months. 

“Oh fuck, fuck, fuck,” Marvin moaned. He gripped your hair tighter and you moaned, panties getting wetter by the second. You planned to ease him into this. Get used to the idea that you wanted him worse than an addict wanted a drink. Then you would ease him into your filthy mind. The way you turned into an absolute horn dog when you wanted someone. 

You didn’t know what it was. Only that once you were locked in to someone, you burned bright and fast. You were into it all. Being dominated, being controlled, being at the mercy of someone else. It didn’t always work out well. Some men were just too weak to fit the bill. 

But you needed to put it on Marvin. Needed him to know how serious you were. How this wasn’t casual to you. And you hoped it wasn’t for him. Because he was already sending hella signals that he was into you, that this wasn’t small. And you feared that once you got a taste, you wouldn’t be able to stop. Would cross oceans of time to get back to him and his glorious dick.

Your slobber dripped down your chin as you spat on it and then sucked him back down. The chorus of curses raining out of Marvin’s mouth was like music to your ears. The subtle praise was successfully turning your mind to mush. 

“Fuck, I’m ‘bout to bust, sweetheart,” he groaned.

You renewed your efforts, gripping onto his thighs and sucking him down as far back as he would go. You slowly withdrew his dick from your mouth, feeling every vein and the edge of his mushroom head. Fresh precum leaked into your mouth and then you swallowed him all again. 

“Shit,” Marvin said. “So fucking beautiful with my dick in your mouth,” he moaned. 

You moaned around his dick, looking up at him and repeating your efforts. Getting faster and faster until Marvin gripped your head on either side and moaned. Cum pulsed into your mouth and you drank greedily. His dick throbbed, more leaking out. You suckled that down too. 

“Oh shit, oh shit,” Marvin groaned. You slowly withdrew him with a pop and licked the corners of your mouth. 

Marvin was sweating and his chest was heaving with his breaths. He stared at you like you were otherworldly. Something conjured from his mind and made flesh. You loved that look in his eye. You grinned and nuzzled his balls. His slick dick smeared across your face, but that was okay. You couldn’t stop touching him, being near him, pleasuring him. 

“Stand up,” he commanded. You used his thighs for support as you stood up and shook out your aching legs. Your focus had been on making him cum in your mouth so you ignored your body’s protests. Now that you were back to the land of the living, your check engine lights came on. 

Your feet burned with static as feeling returned, your knees groaning, and your thighs slightly shook. You used the end of your shirt to clean off the rest of your mouth, the saliva and cum you didn’t get to. 

Marvin grabbed you by the elbow and shoved you down the hallway. You giggled from the way he manhandled you. He tossed you onto the bed and then went to work taking off his shoes and clothes. Fully naked before you, you sat up on your elbows to take in the full view of him.

Fuck, he was perfect. His body was thick in all the right places. Round belly but there was muscle underneath, arms big enough to crush melons, thick waist, and big sexy thighs. His sexy brown skin only seemed to shine brighter in your room. No shadows to hide behind, he was hands down the finest man you’d ever seen naked. 

Marvin grinned at you and pushed your shirt up to expose your panties. He pinned your legs apart, staring at your clad center. He got to his knees, pulling your leg over his shoulder. “All this time? You’ve been teasing me on purpose?” He asked. 

He pressed a thumb against your pussy and you moaned. The sensation was too much to your oversensitive clit. You squirmed on the bed and all he did was press a thumb there. Either you were just that horny, or you were that horny for Marvin. “Y-Yes,” you moaned, when he pressed his thumb in again. 

“All the dresses, the dates, the intentional innuendos. You wanted me jealous, didn’t you?” He asked. He moved his thumb all around your pussy. Down the seam, down the sides of your panties, towards your entrance.

Your breathing increased, heart jumping in your chest. You were thoroughly turned on. Thoroughly ejected from your brain and into fantasyland. “Yes,” you moaned. You needed more. You needed him to move your panties to the side. 

“Please, Marvin,” you begged.

Marvin pushed his nose into your pussy and took a deep breath. “Such a brat. Why should I reward you for being so bad?” He asked. His thumb pushed past the seam of your panties, pressing into the sides of your pussy and you moaned, pushing your hips down in an effort to get him where you wanted him. 

“I’ve been good, I swear,” you said. 

“You let those other men touch you?” He asked. His warm breath fanned across your sweat-slick thighs. 

You never went on any dates and you wondered if you should fess up to that. However, there was a feral, animalistic glint in his eye that was turning you on even more. “A little, there was some kissing,” you said instead of the truth. 

Marvin closed his eyes, jaw flexed, and then used his free hand to wipe his face. “What else did you let them do?” He asked. 

His thumb played with the seam of your pussy but he didn’t push in further. Your essence pooled out of you, enough to let him slide without issue. But you needed him to touch your pussy. To stick a finger in, something. He was being so mean. And god, you fucking loved it. 

“That’s it, I swear,” you said. Marvin looked at you, his eyes intense. You nodded. “I swear.” 

Marvin removed his thumb, pressing it to his lips and suckling on your slick. You watched his eyes close, a low hum escaping him. He leaned up and then moved your panties to the side, tongue darting out to lick up from your pussy to your clit.

“Oh shit!” You screamed. His tongue flicked your swollen clit, causing some type of vibration that made your eyes cross. 

“No one else touches what’s mine, understand?” He asked.

“What’s yours?” You asked. Marvin bit the inside of your thigh and you cried out. 

“No one else touches what’s mine. Including you,” he said. He backed up his words with his tongue and lips, zeroing in on your clit and suckling hard. 

You back bowed off of the bed, but you had no room to move. Marvin had you completely trapped and under his mercy. He licked and sucked, making out with your pussy or feasting on an entire meal. You grew wetter from fresh slick and his spit, suckling on you messy and loud. It was lewd, listening to how wet he made you. How turned on he made you. 

“Oh, fuck, Marvin,” you groaned. 

Marvin hummed greedily, still eating you out. He focused on your clit, bringing his hand up to dip into your weeping hole. His hand slipped in easily, messily. You clenched around his finger and moaned. 

Marvin added a second finger, testing how much you could take. It’d been a minute but Black Noir’s dildo was oversized, playing up the stereotype. You were over Vaught for that, but shit, it was the only one close enough to satisfy your sexual appetite. So with two of Marvin’s fingers down to the knuckle, it wasn’t the biggest you’d ever taken. Still.

He knew how to explore with those fingers. Moving them in all kinds of different directions. Your moans and groans changed depending on what he was doing. And fuck if that wasn’t the point. He found exactly what got you going, what got you whimpering and clutching onto him, and your nails digging into his scalp. 

Marvin moaned into your pussy, flicking his tongue across your clit. “I’ll prove that I’m the only man you need,” he said. He went back to suckling and then switched up again, rubbing his fingers against a tiny nub inside you. You exploded. Shattered. Broken into tiny, jagged pieces that scraped your vocal chords as you screamed out your release. 

Marvin continued to eat you out, and rub against that nub. You went from one powerful orgasm to the next. Your leg shook on top of his shoulder. You made all kinds of unholy, unhinged sounds as you flopped on your bed. 

You whimpered as you came down from the second one. Your bed was soaked beneath you. An entire puddle. “You made a beautiful mess, sweetheart,” Marvin said, sounding awed. Sounding reverent. 

Your pussy clenched at his praise. Like that was all he wanted and you granted it to him. You whimpered again, shaking with aftershocks of your orgasm. You thought you were good at sex. You thought you knew how to put it down. Marvin was insane. He was in another league and it was making you feel a little insecure. 

But then Marvin started kissing your thighs as he stood up. He helped removed your panties and then yanked you up by the shirt. You giggled as you fought with the big shirt, wishing you had opted to wear something easier to remove. Marvin giggled too, breaking the intense persona he adopted.

Freed, cold but welcome air hit your hardened nipples. Marvin kissed all over your big belly, all over your rolls, dips, and hips. He moaned after every kiss, like each new space was more delicious than the last. 

“Fuck, you make me feel so good, Marvin. So fuckin’ good,” you panted. You were out of breath. Overheated. He made you feel like you could walk barefoot on the sun and not get get burnt. 

Marvin groaned, kissing up to your chest. He took his time, suckling one nipple into his mouth and then turning his attention to the other. Your knees snapped to his waist, holding him in. Your pussy began throbbing again in record time. 

“Fuck,” you moaned.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, sweetheart. Can you give me one more? Can you make another mess for me?” He asked, kissing each question into your chest. 

You shook your head. Hell naw you couldn’t give him one more. Was he crazy? Another one? He wanted another one after that previous explosion? You wouldn’t survive it. 

“Where’s your toy?” He asked.

“What?” You asked, fresh dread making your heart sink. 

Marvin got up from the bed and went to your nightstand, opening it and finding his prize. He chuckled, flipping it around while he found the on switch. The dildo started vibrating and he looked from it to you.

“This what you into, huh?” He asked.

You giggled and shook your head. “I know they’re trash but they sure know their client base,” you said. 

Marvin nodded and stepped close to you. And yes, his dick was bigger. Of course it was bigger than the toy. You were out of your league in more ways than one, but he’d been nothing but gentle with you, even while he was doing his own brand of torture. 

He brought the dildo to your clit. You began to moan, pushing against the toy. It was on the lowest setting but it was like heaven against you. You were too sensitive as it was. Marvin played with your essence and the toy, swirling the tip around your clit.

“So fuckin’ beautiful,” he said. “You don’t know how many mornings I woke up, humping the shit out of my bed, trying to hold onto my dreams,” he said. 

Oh shit. Marvin’s words went straight to your heart. Why did he have to be so….him? So open, so caring, so filthy? You were going to collapse from it all. 

“Marvin, please,” you whined. Your voice shook. Body so warm and sweaty, mind gone. He broke you down in more ways than one and you once again marveled at him. 

“Is this what you do when you masterbate? Tease yourself? I bet you do,” he cooed at you. He turned up the vibrator, the vibrations more intense and making your teeth chatter. Your toes curled, trying to stave off another orgasm. You weren’t joking. You were really going to collapse from this one. 

“Hey, look at me sweetheart,” he said. Your eyes turned to his and he smiled. “You’re okay. You can let that shit go. I know you like to tease yourself. Play with yourself. ‘Cause you know exactly what turns you on, huh?” He asked.

You nodded, staring into his eyes. You were struggling to breathe but it grew easier focusing on him and not the fact that you were getting ready to combust. “And I can’t wait to get to know every spot, every moan, everything that makes your eyes roll,” he continued.

“Oh, shit, Marvin, Marvin,” you said, words rising with your panic. You were just there, just at the precipice. Your nails dug into his arm but he showed no indication that it hurt him. He was indestructible. Your hero, your savior. 

Marvin leaned in, arm flexing with supporting his weight on the bed. He suckled a nipple back into his mouth, teasing it, rolling it between his teeth. The bite of pain sent a ripple down to your pussy and you throbbed. 

“You’re a brat but you know when to give in, don’t you? There’s only so long you can tease yourself before you get greedy, huh? ‘Cause your spoiled ass always gets what she wants. Go on and let that shit go,” he cooed.

Marvin turned the setting up to its highest setting, pressing it firmly against your clit. You came immediately. Black spots winking in and out of your vision. You broke down, atom by atom, bit by bit, conceptual thought by abstract thought, and there was only you, him, and the intense pleasure he wrought out of your body. You screamed to the ceiling, screamed to heavens, screamed to anyone who was near enough to hear that you were cumming and cumming hard enough to see stars. 

Marvin distantly moved around you, doing something. You weren’t sure what. You were starting to calm down, feeling the fresh pool of wetness leak out of you. “Fuuck, you’re soaked, sweetheart,” he said.

He came back into your field of vision, lining himself up. Oh, he went and grabbed a condom. What a beautiful man. You pushed against his chest, arm too weak to really stop him. “Slow, baby, please,” you huffed. 

Marvin chuckled and pushed against your hand. “You’ve already taken everything so well, sweetheart,” he said and kissed your forehead. 

Your mind emptied out with a feral moan and Marvin pushed into your warm pussy. He groaned as he made contact. “Fuck, you’re good and wet baby. Look at that, slid right in. ‘Cause you take everything so well. So fuckin’ beautiful. So fuckin’ perfect,” he moaned. 

The praise was snatching your soul. Marvin grunted with every slip and slide of him inside you. Your legs locked around his waist, some primal muscle memory locking him in. Trapping him in. Keeping him connected to you while he fucked you.

You gripped onto his shoulders, scratching him. He groaned and began fucking you harder. His big, meaty palms grabbed your hips and slammed you into his dick. He was so big. He stretched you to your limit. But all the preparation made sense to you now. There was no way you could take him unless you were properly wet. 

Wouldn’t be a problem with him but you made a mental note to buy some lube. Possibly two bottles because you couldn’t imagine having this much patience again. You’d want to climb on top of him any chance you got. 

“Fuck, Marvin! You’re so big!” You screamed. And this time, you weren’t trying to hurry the man along. You were dead serious, praising him for what God and genetics blessed him with. Your ass smacked on his thighs, dick burrowing deep inside. 

“Fuck you feel good taking this dick,” he moaned. One of his hands moved to pinch a nipple. He held on while he fucked you hard, headboard clapping against your wall. 

“Shit!” You screamed, once again creaming on his dick. You hadn’t even felt this one coming. It snuck up on you, robbing you of breath and thought. 

Marvin groaned, slammed in a few more times, before shooting into the condom. You felt his dick pulse with each shot of cum and you moaned, clutching his body to you. He slowed down, breathing heavy in your ear. His sweaty body felt cold on yours and yet the heat of him was enough to scald. 

He stood up, slowly withdrawing from you. You groaned as he worked himself out. You rolled to one elbow, huffing with the effort. A thick wad of cum was at the tip of the condom. Marvin smiled at you. It was devastating. It broke your heart. 

You were lost in it completely as he took the condom off and disappeared to your bathroom. You heard water running and then he was back with a washcloth, cleaning up between your legs.

You felt so cherished and taken care of. Where had he been all your life? Moving next to him was the single greatest idea you’d ever had. Fuck every doubt, every regret, every night you spent wondering if this was the right move. Marvin just proved it was.

After cleaning you up, he got rid of the rag and then helped you stand up. He stripped your bed, and then found new sheets in the cabinet you told him about. In record time, he put new sheets on and then was pulling you back down, embracing you from behind.

You snuggled into his warmth, yawning, feeling safe and warm and madly in love. He was never escaping you. Never getting rid of you. Dick could absolutely change a woman’s tune, got damn. 

“I got one more question before you fall asleep, sweetheart,” he said and kissed behind your ear.

“Hmm?” You asked, no energy for anything. You were falling asleep fast.

“Did your shower really go out?” He asked.

“Uh-huh,” you agreed and then you were fast asleep to the sound of Marvin’s chuckles.

There's more! The Secret Mother's Milk Files

Taglist:

@planetblaque @chaos-4baby @00aijia00 @amethyst09 @ciaqui

@we-outsiiiide @browngirldominion @iv0rysoap @thecookiebratz @harmshake

@judymfmoody @multiversefanfics @tvchi @twocentuar @soft-persephone

@notapradagurl7 @ms-angiealsina @educatorsareslutstoo @abeautifulmindexposed @mermaidchansons

@avoidthings @sunrisesfromthewest @westside-rot

[homestylehughes]

boyfriend jack headcanons

jack hughes x fem!reader 

summary: how i think jack would act as a boyfriend!

warnings: sfw and nsfw 18+

wc: 642

an: hiiiii loves!!! i thought since i already did luke, and quinn boyfriend headcanons i thought i should finish off the hughes brothers and do jack!! i'm currently going through jack withdraws and tmr is his birthday... HE NEEDS TO MAKE HIMSELF KNOWN AGAIN!! anywayssssss! hope you enjoy, like and reblog if you do, much love<3

happy reading <3

Sfw: 

bf!jack:  jack is a big cuddler. It doesn't matter if he's the big spoon, little spoon or just laying flat on top of you, he just likes being around you in general. He loves cuddling after a long day on the boat during summer, your warm skin always invites him in.

bf!jack: jack loves cooking for you, a lot of people poke at jack for not being able to cook, but in reality he can cook very well. You never get tired of the smell and sight of Jack looking for you after a long day or just randomly. Institing that you sit down and drink a glass of wine, saying he’ll take care of everything.

bf!jack: jack hates horror films, but you love them. You never make him have to watch them with you but he does anyway. You'll never forget the time that you guys were watching halloween on halloween and he stayed up all night talking about michael myers and how if he came face to face with him, how he would take him down explaining his strategies to you in extreme detail. 

bf!jack: oh buddy, is jack a yapper. He loves to talk, he can talk about everything and anything with you. He never runs out of things to say, his favorite time to yap is when you both get settled into bed, you both go back and forth about most random things before you sleep, making for the best laughs and memories.

bf!jack: jack is obsessed with you. Completely whipped, his brothers and friends would say, he can never get enough of you. He loves being around you, posting you on his social media, showing you off at any event he has to go to, you are always his plus one. He loves when people ask about you, he talks about you so sweetly and lovingly. He loves everything about you.

nsfw: 

bf!jack: jack loves to fuck you everywhere, even in the most risky places where theres a high chance that you can get caught. His new favorite place to fuck you at is the balcony of your guys apartment, where anyone could see you at any moment. 

Bf!jack: your moans have to be jack's favorite sounds. He loves hearing how responsive you are to everything he does. The way your mouth falls open as you try and talk but nothing comes out, or when you drop your head back and moan his name loudly, telling him not to stop.

bf!jack: jack loves giving you hickey to show everyone that you're his. I'm not talking about the ones that are hidden, I mean the ones that are bright purple and red, the ones that you can't cover. Covering you in them, then parading you around like you're the stanley cup in front of everyone.

bf!jack: jack seeing you with his number on your back, really does something to him. After almost every home game, he bends you over the couch and fucks you with the jersey on your back, hes convinced its the hottest sight hes evet laid his eyes on

bf!jack: loves loves loves cockwarming, sometimes he does even crave a release, he just wants to be close to you. The way you wrap around him so warm and snug as you guys sleep or just laying in bed contempt with each other.

bf!jack: jack loves to edge you. He loves hearing and watching you beg to cum. The sight alone of you fucked out on the bed, sweat covering your body as your hands are tied up above your head so you cant touch. Jack thrusts his fingers in and out slowly, alternating between his mouth and finger, maybe both at the sametime. Hearing you moan and beg to come from above him.

[goingferalforhim]

Hey I saw your prompts and that your requests are open? Could I get the “you are just so handsome” prompt with Megumi?

[ 2.56am ]

📂 megumi fushiguro x reader . fluff , reader is called darling , gumi just wants kisses , (characters aged up but not mentioned) . (inspo — prompt 18: “you are just so handsome”)

a/n kinda a rushed writing job , and ive been in a sort of writing block/slump . please like , reblog , comment !

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

shoes scuff along the floors of the hall, megumi being too exhausted to bother lifting his feet as he approached your door. with his head hung low, hair falling into his hooded eyes, and sleep threatening to overcome, he gently brings his knuckles against the wood.

your movements are muffled as you bring yourself closer to the door, where you knew your boyfriend would be waiting—exhausted and desperate to be held.

“hey gumi,” you whisper softly. he grunts beneath his breath as he falls into your hold, arms tightly wrapping your waist, bringing your body as flushed against his as possible. he mutters soft greetings into your neck, which become mumbles of nonsense as he presses gentle kisses to the skin. “you’re kinda smelly,” you sigh, one hand ruffling through his hair as the other rubs soothingly along the span of his back.

another mess of indecipherable words are muttered against the skin of your neck, the raven-haired boys grip growing tighter as he stumbles a few feet deeper into your room—the back of your knees hit the edge of your mattress before megumi shoves you down into the comforter. his body immediately falling into the space next to yours, an arm snaking its self around your waist yet again—the boy was desperate for your warmth and comfort.

“gumi, love. go wash up,” your words tickle his lips, your minty breath drawing him closer. “gumi,” you grin as his lips brush yours.

“one kiss and i’ll go,” you sigh. as if you were against the idea of kissing your boyfriend.

“one kiss and then you go clean up,” he nods—eyes slipping shut as he leans in, capturing your lips in his.

his lips are a bit cracked, but you knew the hell he practically just went through, so you’d cut him some slack for his dry kiss. “okay, go on.” he groans as you pull your lips from his. “you promised.”

“I did no such thing,” he pouts.

“no, don’t make that face. you’re hurting my heart,” you lay flat onto your back—hands coming to cover your face, mostly to hide the lovesick look spread across your features.

“a quick shower, that’s it. and then I want to kiss you until i fall asleep,” his weight lifts from the bed and you peak from between your fingers. he’s hovering above you, an eyebrow raised.

“all the kisses you could ever want,” your words send him rushing to the shower, a giggle shaking you as you watch him disappear behind the bathroom door.

while he’s in the shower you search through your closet, finding a pair of sweats and a t-shirt you had stolen from your boyfriend long ago. setting them on the end of the bed, along with a pair of boxers he had left—specifically for moments like this.

as megumi slips from the steamed bathroom, towel wrapped around his waist, he’s greeted with your soft, angel-like snores. slipping on the clothes you had set out for him, a simple action that continuously melted his heart—sent the butterflies in his stomach into spirals, he approached his side of the bed. peeling back the covers he crawled in next to you, arms looping around you, pulling you to his chest—where you belonged.

“gumi,” you mutter, fist balling his t-shirt.

“im here, darling.”

“im glad,” he grins down at you. you pull away from his chest slightly, sleepy eyes peering up at him. the corner of your lip twitches, provoking megumi to ask what you wished to say. “nothing,” you sigh. “its just,” nuzzling back into his chest, clinging onto his shirt a little tighter. “you are just so handsome.”

thank goodness the lighting was dim, and thank goodness you were drifting back to sleep—because the shade of red that painted your boyfriend’s cheeks was considered rather embarrassing.

“I love you,” he whispers into your hair. “I love you so much.”

© goingferalforhim . please do not copy or republish my works on other platforms .

[cinnamostar]

ethereality

pairing : felix x gn!reader

summary : early mornings with your boyfriend

wc : 913

cw : fluff, mentions of insecurities, just rambling abt being in love idk, not proofread

a/n : i got very inspired by the book im reading rn so i wrote this lil thing in an hour lol let me know what you think!! likes + reblogs appreciated <3

You lay next to your boyfriend, Felix, who was flat on his back with an arm wrapped around your shoulder. You’re laying on your side, pressing against him with a leg over his as the morning light creeps behind the curtains, coloring Felix’s face in an iridescent glow. Days like this were your favorite, where it was only you, Felix, and the quiet early mornings that lazed around with you til one of you decided it was time to get up.

Your eyes study Felix’s features, drinking up each detail of him for the millionth time as he scrolls through whatever social media app caught his attention today. His eyes were dark as the universes’ vast skies, yet they were not void of life or hope, his eyes gleaming as if God stepped down and personally hung the stars in his coffee eyes. It was as if his freckles were each gingerly placed down with the tender and steady hand of a painter, one whose precision and attention to detail you thanked every day for blessing you with this angelic sight, one your earthly eyes would never be able to fully appreciate. He was too grand for any being on this planet, not even those with the finest tastes and have witnessed all the luxuries of the world would ever understand just how artisanal he was.

Your fingers trace down his cheekbones, eyes wandering just below his jaw where an emerald vein glowed beneath his skin, just like a photograph of lightning striking down. It was silly, you thought to yourself, it was silly to have found yourself so hopelessly in love with a boy that now you couldn’t help but compare his beauty to the cosmos and world around you. His very being emanated an ethereal energy that you wish you could compare to, one you alway felt you constantly felt short to, but you prayed under hushed incantations that you’d be able to bask under it for the rest of your life.

Was it obsessive? Was it almost biblical the way you found yourself revering him? Probably, but you were too lovesick to ever question it, finding yourself trapped in his orbit, though you wouldn’t have it any other way. For years, scholars in the olden days questioned whether the sun revolved around us, but you quickly found the answer in a matter of seconds the day you met Felix. How pitiful, you thought, all they had to ever do was fall in love to answer that question, but they were too nose deep into their mathematical equations to ever recognize such an obvious truth of life.

“You okay, love?” His deep voice breaks you out of your trance, an amused smile playing onto his lips as he glances down at your lovestruck state. 

“Better than okay,” you reply, a flustering heat racing to your cheeks, feeling shy that he had — once again — caught you admiring him.

He drops his phone to his side as he languidly reaches his other arm over you, squeezing you into a tight embrace as he presses a chaste kiss on your forehead, “Can I know what you’re thinking about?” he asks in a hushed whisper, his lips next to your ears, sending shivers down your spine.

A soft chuckle escapes you at his sudden affection, only deepening your embarrassment, “Only for a kiss,” you tease, still giggling as he peels his face away from the crook of your neck with a feigned expression of betrayal.

“Oh? I didn’t know my kisses became a form of currency now,” nonetheless, through his candied smile, he leans down to place a loving peck on your lips, lingering for a moment before pulling away, “Alright, pay up now. I did my side of the bargain,” he jokes.

You roll your eyes playfully, your heart bursting at its seams, struggling to contain the overwhelming amount of love it was just attacked with. “Fine, fine. I was just admiring how handsome you are. Is that a crime?”

He chuckles shyly under your compliments, his cheeks flushing into a light pink, your words always seem to leave him defenseless. “You’re too kind to me, love,” he replies, a sad undertone seeping through his words. Despite your onslaught of adoration for him, despite how many times you have made it clear to him how irrevocably in love you were, he could never quite understand what you saw in him. 

“You deserve no less,” you reply tenderly, your hands running through his hair comfortingly, sensing his insecurities bubble up just by the slight shift in his tone.

“Thank you,” he holds you tighter, his face finding itself in your shoulder once more to avoid your gaze, “I just wish I saw what you saw,” he confesses somberly.

You ponder for a moment, trying to find the right words, “I guess it’s like the sun, baby. The sun is perhaps one of the prettiest things this planet has had the privilege to witness, and it fills our bleak little planet with so much love and life.”

He hums at your words, taking them in before responding, “I think it sucks being the sun sometimes.”

“Hm, why do you say that?”

“The sun can’t see itself,” he thinks aloud, “but I guess at least it gets to see the world around it,” he releases you from his hold, laying once more on his back while looking above, “Like you, like the beauty it has to offer.”

[dimepdf]

★  𝐒𝐋𝐈𝐏𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇 𝐌𝐘 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐒. + 𝐌𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐄𝐋 𝐎'𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀

masterlist. / taglist. / tip jar. synopsis. Just when you needed him the most, Miguel was the one to save you.

─── ☆ notes. I haven’t seen the new Spiderverse movie yet, so no spoilers, but my tiktok fyp is starving for Miguel, so just something short and kind of emotionalish leaning more towards the personal self insert. I don't know, sorry if its too selfish and angsty. | — feedback is always welcomed & don't forget to reblog 🤍

─── ☆ genre and warnings. one-shot | not movie canon | hurt/comfort | angst | mentions of death | near death experience | crying | hugging | open-ended | we ignore typos here | taiyo vent fic posting again | title Inso from this song.

You were dying—well,  at least soon to be dead.

You couldn't grasp onto time as you continued to fall, windows flitting past your body as the wind carried you closer and closer to your demise.

You never would have thought the whole expression "life flashing before your eyes" to be something that you would have ever experienced, but there you were with the world's biggest migraine free falling from some ten-story building you got kicked off of just because you wanted to play the hero.

You were cutting through the air quicker than dead weight.

All you could do was stare up at your super mutant recent friends fighting for their lives, and it was ironic how you were the only one without the possibility of saving yourself.

You could see the moonlight above the clouds. The farther you plummet, the harder the building's rooftop is to see from the growing distance.

As the heavy breeze combed through your hair, your body felt numb, your fingers brushing through the air as your ears rang with each thud of your heartbeat.

You wanted to thank your emotions for washing away the fear as the tears blurred your vision. There was no point in fighting.

You were falling.

You were going to die.

Your eyes were closed before your body jerked through the air involuntarily. The cradle of your limbs smacked hard against someone's broad chest, leaving you grasping for more air in your lungs.

Two strong arms cradling you close from the whiplash of being snatched up in midair, you trembled in the strangers' hands, holding every nerve in your body fried as your bones felt as limb as the day you were born.

It was a shameless embrace of the familiar blue and red suit your brain somehow managed to recognize through its panic disguised as your guardian angel.

Tucking your head in the crook of their neck as they threw themselves through the sky, you held as tightly as your arms would let you, making a mental note to apologize for practically sobbing in Miguel’s ear.

He didn't seem to mind at all with his arm hooked around your thigh, only tightening harder as you could only manage to form a few broken sentences thanking him for saving your life.

You could tell how he actually felt; his reaction hid behind the blank, emotionless-eyed mask covering his features.

It wasn't until he had landed on the flat ground that you were able to fully collect yourself.

Your legs felt numb as Miguel tried to set you down as gently as he possibly could. You could only picture his annoyance when his hands reached out to brace you once more as your knees buckled.

In memory, you would no doubt feel embarrassed of yourself tripping face first into his chest, comparable to Bambi, as Miguel helped you stand on your two feet, who had disregarded his mask with a quick tug, his brown hair fluffed out.

His mean grimace was replaced with something of concern, and his dark, thick brows pulled together as his mouth parted from the permanent frown carved against his lips. 

"Hey, hey, look at me." Your stance stumbling as he yanked you out of trance, fingers tight dug into both of your forearms. "You’re okay, you're alive."

Crying was starting to become a bit tiring as another sob carried up from your throat, the tears forming a knot and stopping you from speaking even as his grasp traveled up to your face in a much more gentle and warming hold.

Miguel asses you once more and hesitatingly pulls you into his chest, your arms clutching onto him like your life depended on it as he's wrapped around your torso as you allow him to embrace you.

Sure, the pain that you felt wasn't at all physical, and the dull emotional ache that hammered your heart distracted you from asking why Miguel hugged you so tight.

🍀 ...

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[evanescencelovrr]

Part 7 college!simon x reader. Gahhh this is melting my stony black little heart 🥺 pls leave feedback! Always appreciated! And reblogs, likes are appreciated.

Masterlist here ✉️

“Work…with you?”

“It ain’t a request. I’m tellin’ ya.”

Was all that echoed in your mind as you sat in your bed. Between how he stepped in for you—defending you and now offering you a job—you were startled.

Why did he suddenly care so much?

What changed?

You wondered, eyes roaming around your room. You sipped your tea, trying to stay warm amidst the cold front outside. Simon.

He was a real piece of work.

You had to know more. You felt like there were questions you had about the job—and most importantly Simon. You got up, setting your tea aside on your desk. You threw over an oversized zip up, your hair messed up and left down. You shoved your feet in your slippers before making up way to his door—which was shut.

You knocked. You waited for a minute, then the sound of creaking, groaning, and heavy footsteps commenced. Your pulse quickened and you pinched gently at your arm to steady yourself.

Enough of that—

When Simon opened the door, his hair was a rugged mess, arm leaning up against the door frame, the other resting on the knob to hold it. His brow cocked in confusion—but then realization crossed when he saw you. “You ere’ bout the job?”

“That I am. You gonna make me stand or do I have to barge in?” You said, jokingly, although heart fluttering at the sight of him.

Simon scratched at his stubble before glancing behind him. Almost as if he were self conscious or guarding his room. Not that you were a threat, right?

As you looked at him, you had to admit this overgrown stubble look suited him. Even with the scars.

“A’right. The flat ain’t Devil Wears Prada, so don’ expect much.” Simon grumbled, although his face was flat. He moved aside, big frame against the wall as he watched you slither past. Your sweater brushed his chest and his breath caught momentarily.

He then shut the door, alone with you.

“Payback, you were once in my room.” You snickered, sensing how uncomfortable he felt with you in his personal space, standing in the middle. You tilted your head at the various records hung on his walls, posters that were falling down. Jackets hung neatly in his half open closet, shoes tucked inside. Although a pair of boots stood outside—most likely for convenience. His usual rugged distressed worker boots.

Simon felt odd watching you. It was like his heart had a mind of its own, speeding up when you tilted your head, and leaned to watch his objects. It had been a while since he had a lass up in his room. He shifted and then sat his form at the edge of his bed, torso angled to you. One leg folded inward. He then chose a topic, most likely trying to get under your skin for amusement.

“Fixin’ ya damn window. It was easy.”

“Oh. Right. Because you’re 7ft tall, and I’m 3ft tall.”

Your eyes caught onto his trash can. It was filled and you narrowed your eyes. Your cup was sitting at the edge, from the hot cocoa you’d given him.

You grinned, now you had something to wield and head butt him with.

“You still have that in your room? It’s been over a week.”

“Been busy.” His gruff tone sounded behind you. Simon was glad you weren’t looking, because now his ears and neck were flushed pink. He cursed himself inwardly.

As you roamed and checked out his desk, seeing the pens and pencils for drawing, it piqued your interest. Ink pens, charcoal, and an eraser. Little lamp to the side as you saw when you first met him. A leather jacket lay folded over the chair—“Lieutenant,” written all over. That caught your attention.

He noticed where your attention was, arms folded now, as his eyes tracked you like a hawk. The bed shifted and he tipped his head slightly.

“Easy there, wot, you tryna’ figure me out or somethin’?”

“You bothered?” You cracked a grin widely, and then perched yourself up on his desk, sitting at the edge. You crossed your arms, the light angling at shining over your form.

Simon oddly found himself itching. The more he stared at you the more it became pronounced. His fingers more-so. Itching to draw the way you sat—hair illuminated by the sun, and face partly shadowed. The curve of your lips highlighted.

He shook the feeling off and swallowed, adams apple bobbing.

“Listen, Johnny—my man owns this bar we work at. Mollys. I can talk to him and get ya assigned.”

You perked up, head downed previously to look at your lap in thought—now at him. “Do tell. I need the hours.”

“Campus jobs aren’t much, so. You’re better off here.” Simon shook his head and rubbed calloused fingers over his lids.

“Didn’t know you were a Lieutenant.” You spoke, voice calmer and hushed now. Simon raised his head up to glance at the jacket, then you. He shifted in his spot, then stood up. The bed bounced.

You watched as he approached his jacket and then grabbed at the thick material, hanging it up in the closet.

For a second your heart pounded—had you said something wrong? Your gaze faltered.

“I was. Till’ I joined ere’.” He then said, to which your nerves eased slightly.

You watched, lip catching between your teeth.

“Why the sudden change?”

“You’re askin’ a lotta questions, bonnie.” Simon said, unable to help the nickname now. You sat straighter and sensed his defensiveness, although it was not as sharp as it used to be.

Even the nickname had you gripped—surely something was changing.

“You don’t have to answer. But that would make you a stranger to me, still.” You said, slowly.

He shut his closet door and faced you, arms crossing. He tilted his head and glanced away in thought for a moment—then eyed you.

“Did you not want us to be strangers anymore?”

And all of a sudden the room felt hot. Intense. Your breath caught, throat squeezing slightly. His piercing gaze did nothing to calm you. You shifted on his desk and your thumb sought to soothe you—rubbing the inside of your pocket. You eyes found his—lips parting to speak.

“Just—friends…?” You awkwardly say. You glance at him and then around the room, needing anything to take the edge off.

“Just friends.” He repeated, as if testing the weight of the word on his tongue. He flexed his neck, before moving closer to you.

Your breath caught—and you froze. He sensed it, but didn’t say anything as both arms pinned you temporarily. Long fingers grabbed at a pen from behind you, and a notepad.

No way. He had to be doing this on purpose, you thought. Your eyes stared deeply into his, knees brushing his waist. Your heart was pounding.

“I need y’er number.” His voice was hushed, like a murmur.

“What for?”

“For Johnny. Don’t ya want the job?” He said it so casually.

You nearly facepalmed and Simon leaned away, waist at the desk, no longer caging you. You still shuddered from his proximity, and bit your lip. His body warmth originally extended to you—but with him gone, it was cold.

Like November.

As you told him your number, you slipped up halfway.

“Not 5–I mean 9.” Probably due to your nerves.

“Slippin’ up, aye?” He couldn’t help the small grin that pulled at his lips.

“Get on with it, otherwise I’ll find another job.” You half joked, half threatened. It was empty.

Simon lips curled up even more, revealing teeth. Wolfish. His eyes crinkled under as he gazed at you.

“Nah, you’ll be a’right at this one.”

He then took your number.

——

That night as Simon went to sleep, he couldn’t stop replaying your figure perched up on the desk, hair illuminated softly by oranges and yellows of the sun, the way your lipstick hugged your lips. The way your sweater fell—

Enough. Damn it, Lieutenant. He thought to himself. He needed to do something. Anything.

Once again, 3am. He got up, stiff muscles straining and he grunted. He padded to his desk, pulled out his sketchbook with a sigh and slapped it down. He turned on his lamp, sat down, and began sketching.

By the time he was done, his charcoal rendered a soft, messy elegant figure of yours. Despite that lip you gave sometimes. The most pronounced feature being your eyes: the one thing he found striking.

“Fuckin’ hell…now she’s hauntin’ my mind.” Simons gravelly voice said, as fingers pressed and dragged down his face wearily. He slumped back in his chair, long legs protruding.

And now, she’d be at his job too. He grunted softly, arm moving down to the armrest. Fingers tapped the side in thought, pensive.

“Campus jobs aren’t much, so. You’re better off here.” He remembered his own words.

“Didn’t want her workin’ a damn illegal side hustle…” Simon muttered to himself, getting up. He switched his lamp off, and found himself getting comfortable in bed.

At least, he tried to.

[actual-changeling]

this post by @fellshish inspired me to write a little something as a reblog and now it is. a bit more than a little something so it gets its own post. why does this always happen. why. i simply cannot resist.

aziracrow angst with one archangel and one archduke being equally unhappy

-

"You?"

The door falls shut behind him with a loud bang, metal scratching over metal, and even after weeks in hell, Crowley still isn't used to the noise and hides his flinch with an exaggerated bow. Swallowing the dizziness, he straightens and flings himself back into his chair.

"'s me, angel. Oh, not angel anymore, is it?"

Aziraphale blinks, blinks again, and wrings his hands, turning the ring on his pinky round and round and round. In the dirty green light, he almost can't see the reddened, raw skin underneath.

"My deepest apologies, your Supreme Arseangelness," he winces when his voice breaks on angel, picking up the previously discarded bottle and taking a swig. "So, what d'ya want?"

After his question, the room grows quiet, the demons' moaning and shuffling a faded buzz, and while the Dark Council did insist on him changing his clothes, there were no requirements except 'well, evil and- and demony'. So—keeping the ever-changing temperatures in mind—he switched his usual attire for a calf-long black coat over a deep burgundy shirt, his polished high-heeled boots reflecting the light as he sprawls and the skirt ruffles and flows.

With one leg stretched out over the armrest, he regards Aziraphale through lidded eyes. He might not seem particularly present, but he would never let his guard down in hell—fuck, not even on earth.

(Not anymore. His flat was too empty and quiet, the bookshop too—well, the point is, he left.)

Aziraphale's suit is pristine, practically glowing surrounded by hell's filth, and swirling gold markings are framing his face; definitely new, Crowley decides, and entirely too attractive. Biting his lip, Aziraphale steps closer, arms pressed tightly against his body, while his eyes roam over Crowley's.

"As the new Supreme Archangel, it is only polite to introduce myself to the new duk—" he interrupts himself, his knuckles turning white, and suddenly his eyes are everywhere but on him. "I didn't know it was you, Crowley, I swear."

There is almost a tinge of desperation in his words, and he cannot decide whether to be annoyed or comforting. The urge to keep him safe will never fade; it has not wavered even once in six thousand years, and he doubts it will start now. Then again, he did warn him, didn't he?

For six thousand years, just to be forced to watch him leave anyway.

Crowley empties the bottle and throws it against the nearest wall, watching it break, shatter, crumble to dust, and sink into the floor. Hell is his to shape, yet it also shapes him, he realises, when his annoyance switches to anger.

He pushes himself upright under Aziraphale's wide-eyed gaze and closes the distance between them with a handful of wide steps. Swallowing a wave of tears, Crowley looks at him, unblinking, and waits until a familiar look of furious defiance settles on Aziraphale's face.

Now they're getting somewhere.

Earth is nothing without him on it, not just boring but driving him properly insane with the emptiness expanding around him; London had turned into the centre of a black hole, sucking him. When he couldn't take it anymore, descending back to hell had been surprisingly easy.

"Now you know," he hisses, low and long, his teeth sharp, his eyes fully golden, "so you can leave."

"But-"

"But what? Do you need something from me?" And, ohh, he does feel the alcohol now, loosening his split tongue and pushing emotions to the surface. "First you discard me, now you come back to demand my help?"

"Crowley, I didn't-"

"It's Archduke of Hell for you, and this audience is over."

A part of him had hoped that maybe allowing the anger to escape, to take form and turn his words into knives, would make him less heartbroken, yet all it is doing now is ripping badly healed wounds wide open. Seeing him, hearing him, smelling, tasting him in the stale air—it is too much. Not enough. Both.

His throne welcomes him back as he stumbles onto it, another bottle appearing in his outstretched hand, and with a snap ringing through the room, the door slams open.

Aziraphale watches him with tight lips, but he does not try to argue, does not chase after him, does not say anything, does not do anything.

Instead, he does what he can apparently do best now—he turns around and leaves.

For the very first time since his arrival, Crowley channels his anger into the walls of hell, stomping down any moral qualms as he listens to the increasing pitch of pain echoing through the halls.

It doesn't help, but neither did coming back, nor did talking to him. All he can do is lift the bottle to his lips once more and wait.

[crumbledcastle28]

Joel Miller: Marked Me Like a Bloodstain

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader (afab; she/her)

Excerpt: "Wait," you whispered, "let go."

He did, and you laid him down flat on his back before leaning down on his middle and pressing a soft kiss to the scar. You traced it again, sketching designs of stars and infinity signs around it.

"I'm sorry you went through that," you whispered, and kissed it again, "but I'm glad you're here."

He kept eye contact with you as you did this, and although he'd never admit it, a slight mist lined his eyes. "Me too, baby. Me too."

Warnings: all fluff, Joel's insecure (what's new), descriptions of blood and getting impaled (also what's new), kissing, references to oral sex, major descriptions of scars, please think before you read.

A/N: title feel familiar to anyone else? (I made this title before the breakup rumors I'm so sorry)

Word Count: 1.5k

Pedro Masterlist

If you'd like to leave a like, comment, ask, or reblog, it would be much appreciated <3

(Gif credit to owner)

The rise and fall of Joel's chest was even underneath your cheek, but the rhythm of his heart was not. With each drag of your nail across his sternum, pecks, and stomach, his heart would escalate and cascade, in perfect tempo with your fingertips. It was like a song, it never ceased to follow, and you couldn't help but smile into his warm skin after a particularly apparent inflation.

A flush of heat on his neck told you he noticed too.

"Somethin' funny," he asked with a chuckle, causing you to only giggle louder into his neck.

"Yes,' you whispered against his pulse point, pecking it slightly.

“I ain’t even gonna try to play it off," he replied, "your fingers are drivin' me nuts."

You placed your free hand on his scruff-dusted cheek and pulled his pouty lips to yours, making him groan delectably as his pointer finger continued its task of tracing over any and every inch of your exposed back.

You were never going to leave his bed.

Your nude body was warm against his own--a mix of the warm meal the two of you had shared and the slowly cooling summer night--as he kissed you back. Usually, on a night like this, you would taste each other until the sun rose, and do it once more for good measure, but not tonight.

Tonight was a jewel, an artifact, a golden crown. It was one of the rare nights that all Joel wanted to do was lie next to you, talk about anything and everything, and just be.

You pulled away and pecked his nose before tucking yourself back into his chest, sighing with relief, but never removing your eyes from his face. These nights were your favorites, purely because you could stare at him endlessly, and memorize him enough that, even in your old age, you would still be able to picture every detail of his face.

The sharpness of his jaw, the streaks of grey in his dark brown hair, the patchiness of his stubble, the exact arch of his nose, the slight wooden hint in his scent, and the drips of honey in his eyes when the setting sun hit them just right.

Naked, in every sense of the word. Your addiction to it would surely be the death of you.

Your fingers continued their mission to feel every part of him as you stared up at him, and he stared down at you, likely committing every bit of you to memory the same way you were for him. You couldn't deny the flood of warmth that bloomed across your chest at the thought.

Your fingers continued their mission to feel every speck of skin on Joel Miller as they traveled lower and lower, and no matter how many nights you had done this, felt as much of him as you could, Joel always stiffened up when you did. Always. And this time was no different.

You had found that words never seemed to help him shred himself of his insecurities, no matter how poetic the prayers that fell from your lips.

It's me, Joel, only me.

Please, don't hide from me, baby.

I love you. Let me know you.

Nothing. It was when your lips were used for other purposes that Joel's body began to meld into the mattress.

As your fingers traced every mole, mark from the sun, freckle, and scar, your lips pressed a kiss onto his chest, bicep, neck, and face, alternating between them all. He exhaled, finally letting go, as his eyes fluttered shut.

"I love you," he whispered, eyes still closed but lips parted in rhapsody, "I love you."

You didn't respond with your words, only another kiss.

His deep breaths filled the air as your fingers made their way down, down, down to his lower stomach. They made it to the two moles above his belly button, one of your favorite places to admire on him, but as they made their way further and further to his left side, the muscles on his abdomen began to tighten, and his breaths shallowed.

You removed your lips from his collarbone at the feeling. "Joel--"

"No," he whispered huskily, pressing a kiss to your forehead as he said, "Keep goin'."

You nodded, and he pressed kiss after kiss to your hairline as your fingertips went from soft skin to a long stretch of indented, deeply textured skin. It was wide, and rugged, and old. You felt over every inch of it, noting how it felt deeper towards the center, but more soft on the edges.

You propped yourself up slightly to look at it; its stretch across his abdomen, its darkened tone, and how it was slightly raised from the rest of his tanned skin.

It was the biggest scar you had ever seen on his body, and in your life.

"How have I--" you began, looking back at his solemn face, "--how have I never noticed this before?"

"I never let you," he responded, his tone full of both disappointment and relief, "never wanted you to see it."

You couldn't help the tears that lined your eyes as you asked, "What happened?"

And he told you. Every detail. How it felt when the pipe entered his body, how it felt pushed up against his organs, and how it felt coming out. He described everything from that point on as hazed and muffled, except for the look of fear in Ellie's dark eyes.

"That's what kept me walking," he said, wiping the tears from your cheekbones as he spoke quietly, "her eyes. Her need for my heart to keep beatin'."

He described the next few months as dream-like, like he never really knew when he was awake or not, unaware what was real or figments of his imagination.

"It was hell," he said, "but she stayed with me through it all, and she's the reason I'm alive."

You nodded, understanding that in order to keep himself sane, he had to focus on Ellie's role in it, not his own.

Still, you couldn't hold your tongue as you said, "I'm sorry you had to go through that."

He shook his head at your tears and kissed your forehead once again. "S'alright, got some of the best sleep of my life."

You laughed breathily into his chest as he held you close, once again running his hands up and down your naked back as he did. He exhaled deeply, like he had finally gotten a heavy weight off of his chest, and you pressed a kiss to the middle of his sternum.

But you weren't done yet.

"Wait," you whispered, "let go."

He did, and you laid him down flat on his back before leaning down on his middle and pressing a soft kiss to the scar. You traced it again, sketching designs of stars and infinity signs around it.

"I'm sorry you went through that," you whispered, and kissed it again, "but I'm glad you're here."

He kept eye contact with you as you did this, and although he'd never admit it, a slight mist lined his eyes. "Me too, baby. Me too."

You laid down on top of him, completely letting your body weight onto his, and tucked yourself into his neck once again. You always loved how well it fit there. His hands went up into your hair to massage your scalp, and you practically hummed.

"I don't mind bein' scarred," he said into your hair after a few beats of silence, "means I'm still survivin', and that means I'm still with you."

You smiled against him, and the unique silence of understanding between two people who know each other better than anyone else was the only thing that filled the room. These moments, this silence, was priceless.

"Besides," Joel said suddenly, carving through the silence huskily, "marks are good, means it meant something."

You nodded, murmuring a small "mhm" as you did. Your eyes were beginning to grow heavy, and the depth of his voice was only lulling you more.

"You've marked me, in a way," he said against your face, and your eyebrows came together in confusion.

"Yeah, not in a scar way though," he said, and brought your hand to his beating chest, "but just as permanent. More like in a...a bloodstain way--a good bloodstain--in here. You've marked my heart with it."

Your eyes met his own, and it didn't take you thirty seconds before you both started laughing in perfect symphony.

"A 'good bloodstain'," you said through your laughter, feeling a tear drip onto your face once more, "I never took you for a poet, Miller."

"Well, I ain't," he said in reply, his face beginning to flush, "that's why that was so terrible."

Through the both of your smiles you were still able to kiss him, whispering against his lips, "I know what you meant."

Because you did. You had marked each other, internally, in a way that could never be removed, and as you kissed him one last time before falling asleep wrapped in warmth and love, you couldn't help but agree with him.

Tag list: (if you'd like to be added please let me know!)

@leahkenobi @untitledarea @avengersfan25 @lexloon​ @aninnai @darling-murdock @daphne-turner @ellesvoid