#so it took me forever to find an angle that I could sort of work with and honestly idk if it does work

[laundrybiscuits]

45 for ask game? 👀

Content note: mention of period-typical homophobia 

Can be read as taking place between this one and this (NSFW) one if you want, but I think it stands alone okay.

I know we’re supposed to be just friends / Miss Temptation I don’t think you know / you keep me waitin’ / know you like to take it slow / Miss Temptation you never let it show 

Eddie always hammers away at the back door like she’s trying to break it down. When Steph finally gets to the doorway, Eddie’s hopping up and down with her hands jammed in her armpits.

“Jesus, Harrington. Took you long enough,” she says, pushing past Steph to the living room. “I was freezing my tits off out there. Please tell me that fireplace works.”

Steph rolls her eyes a little, because it’s not that cold out. It’s only just started snowing, big damp flakes melting in Eddie’s hair. 

“I don’t know,” she says. “Never tried it. There’s some wood in the crate, though.”

“Never—seriously? C’mon, let’s figure it out, I bet we can get it going.”

Steph could point out that she’s got central heating, and that Eddie will warm up if she just waits like two seconds, but instead she just grins and leaves Eddie to it while she goes to pour some drinks.

A few minutes later, she hears Eddie crow in victory. She comes back in to find Eddie with her jacket discarded and the sleeves of her flannel rolled up, jabbing a poker cautiously at a crackling flame.

“Hey,” she says, tapping the wineglass gently against Eddie’s forearm. “That was fast.”

“Ah, you know. Wayne likes to go camping.” Eddie beams up at her. “Let’s turn off the ceiling lights, it’ll be nicer.”

It is nicer. Steph settles in next to Eddie, not touching but close enough to feel the warmth of her body, and sips her wine. The firelight makes Eddie look lit up from the inside; like all that golden warmth is coming from under translucent skin still flushed from the cold. Her red flannel shirt is open at the neck. It looks like something she might’ve inherited from Wayne, oversized and worn soft as silk, crumpling at the collar. 

Steph wishes there was some music playing, but somehow it feels like getting up to put something on would be too much. It would be the kind of dumb thing she’d do to set the mood with a guy, and that’s not what Eddie’s here for, obviously. 

As far as Steph knows, Eddie’s never had a boyfriend. 

It’s not a huge surprise. She’s never exactly been popular, plus she dresses like some burnout guy, all baggy shirts and jackets and beat-up jeans. 

Of course people call her a lesbo all the time. But that’s just normal teenage stuff; even Steph gets teased like that whenever she has a bad hair day or does well in volleyball or whatever. It’s just something people say, and then you say it back to them, and it’s normal. 

Lately, Steph has been trying to remember if there’s ever been anything more to it. Rumors, that kind of thing. Anything someone might’ve seen or heard that would make it more than words.

Steph’s always known gay people exist, she’s not stupid, but before Robin she’d thought of it as a city thing. Whenever there was something in the paper, her mother always used to say that it’s a real shame that in the city, boys who don’t have their families around can run wild. She never said exactly what running wild meant, and she never said anything at all about girls, except once, when she’d paused and squeezed Steph’s shoulders, bussing her hair, and said at least we don’t have to worry about that with you, darling.

Steph doesn’t even know how it works, with girls. She can’t picture it. Maybe Eddie would tell her, if she could find the right way to ask. If Eddie even knows—and there she is back at the beginning again, nothing figured out, just going round and round. 

So she doesn’t bring it up. Doesn’t even really know why, except that this way, nobody has to worry about anything. 

Beside her, Eddie drains her wine and draws her legs up, folding her arms over her knees. It pulls her flannel over her shoulders in a smooth line, like maybe she’s not wearing anything underneath. Which would be so stupid in this weather, honestly—Steph can’t imagine going out with just a layer of worn cotton and that leather jacket Eddie loves so much between the biting cold and bare skin. 

“You’re sleeping over tonight, right?” she says. “You’ll freeze to death if I let you head back out tonight.”

“If you let me, huh?” Eddie grins. “Can’t have my death on your conscience, I guess. Sure, Harrington, we can have a sleepover. You can braid my hair and tell me all about whatever cute guy you’ve got your eye on nowadays.”

That’s about as good an opening as she’s likely to get, if she can just find the right words. 

“Or you could tell me about any cute guys you’ve got your eye on,” is what she settles on.

“Please,” Eddie snorts. “The unwashed miscreants of Hawkins should be so lucky. Like I’d ever want a boyfriend—uh, from around here, anyway.”

“You don’t…get lonely?” Steph asks. It comes out a little soft around the edges.

Eddie leans her chin on her arms. After a moment, she murmurs, “I didn’t say that.”

Steph could probably say something back, she thinks. Some kind of response. Anything. 

They sit there, watching the fire as it slowly turns the logs to ash, for a very long time.

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

So.

When I ran my last pike thirst hours you put in the tags that you were thinking of #like Gym Trainer Pike? and girl

What if he volunteers to lead gym classes at the community centre you do admin work for

What if you had a bad experience one night locking up

What if he offers to teach you a private self-defence class?

I am JUST ASKING.

Elen I'm so so SO sorry that this took me so long to reply to but also yes i LOVE IT

"You don't have to keep doing this, you know."

You offer it guardedly as you shift your bag on your shoulder. You don't dare look at him—you can't fathom his expression. Christopher has been walking you to your car every night for the last two weeks. That creep hasn't shown his face since Christopher nearly broke his wrist for trying to follow you to your car, and you don't want Christopher to feel like he'll have to do this forever.

"I don't mind," Christopher insists. "Besides, you've been parking closer to the front, it's not as long a walk."

"If you say so." You come to a stop beside the door, shooting him a smile and offering, "Well, goodnight."

"Before you go—"

"Yes?"

"I was wondering..." He trails off, and you can see a small wrinkle forming between his brow. Oh—God. Is he going to ask you out? You'll say yes, of course—you've had the worst crush on him since he started teaching classes at the community center—but why does he look...Worried about asking you?

"Chris, whatever it is, you can just say it," You insist softly.

"I wanted to know—"

Yes, yes you'll go out with him—

"If you'd like some help with your self-defense technique."

Your mouth is half-open with a yes, but your brain is sort of...Stalled. He wants to help you with what?

"Uh..." You manage, "I...My technique is a bit of an exaggeration, don't you think? I mean, it's nonexistent."

He smiles. "For now, maybe. But if you like, we can change that. We could do it here," He nods over his shoulder, "After hours. Wouldn't interfere with programming or your schedule."

Well someone's thought this all through.

"You don't have to do that—As much as you don't have to do this," You wave between him and the door.

"I'd like to, if you'd be interested."

It's a sweet offer from a sweet man...And it's the smart thing to do. You nod a little.

"I'd appreciate that."

He smiles, bright and beautiful, and you know immediately that saying yes was the right decision—both for your safety, and the sight of his immediate joy...Though, maybe it's relief. If he feels like you can defend yourself, he won't have to shuttle you back and forth every night, or feel like he has to.

Anyway—it couldn't hurt.

--

"...I can't do that."

"Yes, you can."

"No, Chris, I can't—" You shake your head, waving your hand at his body. "I can't just toss you."

"At the right angle, with the right leverage, I promise you, you can. Here."

You watch him turn his back to you, and you bite the inside of your cheek, letting your eyes openly wander the way his shirt clings to his back, and his biceps—

"Come closer," He urges, snapping you out of your reverie. You step closer and find yourself glancing around, as if you're afraid someone will see you. It's a ridiculous concern. Everyone else has gone home for the night. You stop just a step away, stomach flipping as he takes hold of your hand, raising it to wrap around his shoulders.

"I'm going to show you the set up," He says, "And then you can try it."

You do your best to hone in on his voice, even as your body presses flush against his, his hands raising to wrap around your arm.

"Here's what you're going to do. Widen your stance." He shifts against you, "Keep your grip firm, and hinge," He leans forward, and you shriek as your feet lift off the ground. He chuckles, straightening up and easing you back onto the ground.

"It's that simple."

"Might be that simple because you know how to do it," You grumble.

"Just give it a try." Christoper steps around you, and you brace yourself as you feel the heat of him grow close again. "I'm going to put my arm around you, alright?"

"Alright."

You swallow thickly as he curls his arm around your shoulders. Can't the lesson just end right here?

"Put your hands on my arm—one near my elbow, one near my wrist...Good. Now, bend your legs, and throw the shoulder nearest to my elbow forward."

You hesitate before you crouch, lean...And nothing.

"...I feel like this isn't right," You grumbled. Christopher's soft laugh pushes against your ear as he leans away, guiding the two of you to straighten up.

"Alright," He gently shifts the two of you. "Try it again—faster. Bend your knees, lean forward, throw your shoulder."

There's no way that this is going to work—but you squeeze your eyes shut, and you try—and shriek again as Christopher practically flies over your shoulder, onto the mat.

"Oh my god!" You press your hands over your mouth as your eyes pop open, landing on where Christopher is flat on his back on the mat. But he's...Laughing? "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," He swears as he stands. "Let's do it again."

"Once wasn't enough?"

"The more we drill it, the more likely it is that the response will become second nature. Just—a few more times. And then we can throw it on the list to just review next time."

Next time. How many times are the two of you going to do this? But you let Christopher crowd up behind you again, loop his arm around your shoulders, and throw him.

--

By the time Christopher has run you through the remainder of the drills (breaking out of throat grabs, wrist locks, headlocks), you're sweaty and sore. And despite what he's taught you, Christopher still lingers, waiting for you to finish locking up the gym.

"Thank you again for all of your help," You tuck your hands into your pockets, slowly drifting with him toward your car. "This was...Informative."

"I hope so. If you have any other methods that you're curious about, let me know, we can give them a try next week." Next week. What's that going to be like? How many times are you going to do this? Is this all that you were going to ever do with Christopher? But you smile all the same, because in the end, if this is all the two of you do, he's still a sweetheart for offering you help without you asking him to.

"I'll keep an eye out." You stop beside your car. "Thank you."

"Sure. Get home safe."

"Yeah, you, too."

You nod, turning toward your car. You can hear Christopher's footsteps getting further away, and you scrounge up your courage, turning to face him.

"Christopher?"

He turns back to you expectantly, brows raised. You close the gap hurriedly, leaning in and pressing a quick peck to his cheek.

"Goodnight," You manage, and only just catch sight of the palpable surprise on his face. You don't make it far before Christopher catches hold of your hand, just enough to still you. You don't have the chance to turn to face him as he crowds close behind you again, pressing a tender kiss to your cheek and murmurs,

"Goodnight."

You let your eyes slide closed for a split second, giving his hand a gentle squeeze before you let go, walking back to your car. You get in, giving Christopher a quick wave as he drives off before you lean back in your car, letting out a short, excited scream.

[strawhatsoraya]

Hi! I love your work and I hope you'll having a great day! I saw you don't have any request for Eustass Kid so i want to ask for some ^^ Could you do headcanon about him falling in love with someone totally opposite to him (shy, endearing, petite, VERY polite...) It can be sfw or nsfw, whatever you want ^^

Hello! Thank you for the compliment and request! I have come back from the dead lmao sort of and have your request. I have some headcanons and a smutty little drabble for you! 😏😏 You did say it could be either or. I know it took me forever, and hope you get to come back to read your request. I hope you're doing well, Nonnie, wherever you are <3

content warnings: nsfw, fem!reader, vaginal penetration, a little short smutty drabble, nothing intense but not for kiddies *wags finger* go away, shoo, if you're under 18.

stubborn eustass kid would never admit it. he’d rather chew on screws, and bolts. he’d rather staple scraps of leather to his skin, repeatedly, than to admit how soft you’ve made him.

after all, stubborn eustass kid has a reputation to protect. he can’t openly admit that he finds your shy personality interesting. there’s nothing more that he likes than to see you squirm. whether it’s sadism, or something else, he’s not sure but he likes to pretend he’s trying to find the answers when he runs his calloused palms up the back of your thighs. 

you put up a good show–blushing profusely, stuttering and refusing to meet his gaze as your eyes brim with unshed tears. kid eats it all up with sharp teeth, a smile so annoyingly genuine, he wishes he could rip his own mouth apart. it isn’t until you’re almost sobbing, forcing yourself to demand decorum from him that he lets you go. after all: the fun is in the chase.

eustass kid is a wolf wearing little red’s hood–one he’s shred to bits and put pins through. he prowls after you throughout the ship, laughing at your extremely polite good mornings and goodbyes. he reminds you to call him kid over and over again–none of this captain bullshit. If anything just to see you blush, if anything because he wants to hear how his name would roll off your tongue–so he can remember it later as he lays tangled in bed sheets, body slick with his sweat, furiously pumping his fist over his cock. 

You’re putty in his hands–a medium he is not used to working with. He’s used to the cold of the steel pressing into the skin of his palm, the sharp edges of scrap metal–jagged, and rusting. You were soft under his fingertips; silk and ribbons. Your touch was even softer. You moan when he rolls his hips against yours, his mouth pressed flush against the side of your neck. Your hands are ghosts, trailing over the rippling muscles of his back, casting demons aside from a single touch.

When you whisper his name between soft little pants, his thick cock buried in you, he feels exonerated. 

He never thought he’d feel this way about someone like you; gentile, soft spoken, saccharine you–you who has rotten his teeth, and his bloodstream. He murmurs your name as he digs his large fingers into your hair, grips fistfuls of it to pull your head back. You gasp as he bites up the column of your neck. He loves to hear you moan, loves it when you say his name and demand more of it; his kisses, his touch. 

You still ask for more, when he angles his hips, when he slaps his hips against yours until bruising. He loves to see you fall apart underneath him, to see your perfect mask of innocence fall away and reveal the dark shard of yourself. Your hips pick up the pace, desperately moving against his, as if he couldn’t be deep enough.

“You love it, don’t you?” he groans, looking down at you with heavy lidded eyes. His lips are shiny with saliva, teeth marks in crescent shape decorate his neck and shoulders. “Having my cock buried so deep in you, you can’t even think?” He leans forward to press his forehead against yours. His hips never stop, furiously slapping into you, the sounds of your squelching pussy all the fuel he needs to keep going. “Can you even talk, sweetheart?”

You mumble something unintelligible. He laughs, not sure it was even remotely close to any language he knew. Kid slides his hand over your face, and lets it rest at the base of your neck, as he watches you squirm underneath him. You bite your lip as you moan, pupils blown wide. His fingers wrap around your neck as he squeezes.

“That’s okay, though,” he drawls out of the corner of his crooked smile. His heavy balls slap against your ass. The lewd sounds echoes in the room, grounding you to this moment. “You’re still my sweet girl. All mine to fuck.”

[clambuoyance]

I really like your style. Was it intentionally designed, or did you just sort of fall into it over time?

I wouldnt say I intentionally designed it, as in I haven't sat down and Engineered a specific style, and instead it was more of me finding what I liked and wanted to incorporate into my style.

You could probably trace my style back to its influences. I used to draw really round shapes (I still do but like they were just ovals and circles...I guess i just like that shape) until I started watching How to Draw Anime tutorials in middleschool T-T (shoutout to Mark Crilley lol)

But when I first joined social media back in 2016, I found all these crazy artists with really unique styles that really influenced me. I was drawn towards artists like star_bite/prince_canary and rawrgyle/grassflu who have very dynamic expressions and character poses :0 (also they ended up working on a Batman and Superman project respectively and how wild is it that my icons from forever ago now work on projects aligned with my current interests!!!) And as you get exposed to different artists you get exposed to the many ways you can Draw things and along with your natural affinities towards certain things (such as me being attracted to Bright and Bold colors and Shaped styles) you kind of naturally build a style.

And part of that is also just having fun Trying things out? Sometimes I wouldnt even try to emulate their style as much as I tried to just...do what they were doing? As in making my ocs and putting them in fun poses, and doing color palette trends and such etc.

I hope that helped! If you're curious I can break down some of my style checkpoints over the years. As you can see there was still some major anime influence in my style back then when I first joined social media around 2015/2016

Around that time, I also discovered the fandom around the Cartoons popular at the time, so I drifted away from anime and drew things like gravity falls/steven universe/otgw etc etc so it got Rounder I guess. I really liked how stylized characters looked and got obsessed with Shape Language and assigning characters distinct Shapes (box vs triangle vs circle etc). I also read a lot of webcomics and stuff like that so those played a part I guess

And then around 2019 I saw more artists drawing anime fanart with really sharp angles, which was completely different but so cool to look at so I tried to incorporate more angles into my art. I still had that very cartoony style but tried to push the Sharpness a tad bit more if you can tell. (I think the name of the artist I liked was jeluto?)

I think around this time I also focused a lot more on color as well and did a lot of paintings then and whenever I did more Painterly stuff I tended to switch Styles into something Less Cartoony T-T

Then by 2020, I revamped my ocs, actually tried to break down and study my own style and how I would draw them, and my style kinda fell into a mix of round vs sharp edges I guess. I tried to give myself Rules which I would follow when stylizing a character to keep it more consistent and intentional.

Then in 2021 some of that Fun Part of stylizing characters into something more Cartoony kind of took a backseat as I focused more on Pose Work and Body Expression instead which I think helped a lot :0

And here's some recent stuff from the past year! Still very cartoony, but less so than 2016 I'd say, and still using really bold colors!! Still love my Soft Vs Hard angles B]

And overall have stronger pose work :) I'm sure my style will evolve as I learn more and experiment more, because one thing I want to focus on is backgrounds and environments :0

[drsteggy]

Do you have tips for where to start for making a costume, and/ or where to start to get more comfortable possibly being in photos?

Hello, boy do I have thoughts on both of these.

On starting a costume- first off, you do not NEED to make your own costume to cosplay. It’s ok to buy some of it or all of it. The only time you NEED to have made your costume is if you’re competing.

I started by making props, which were things I was very comfortable with. The reason I started sewing was I could not find a tunic that fit me right- most of what I found was based on a large T shirt and that’s not what a tunic is…so it would hit my hips badly and end up much shorter than I wanted. I’m one of these people who wants to try to get it as close to my vision of “correct” as possible, and I suspect my version of BOTW Link will forever be sort of a work in progress forever, but I’m ok with this.

My first sewing project was Link’s undershirt. I based it off a pajama top I loved. I’m pretty sure I just googled instructions on how to reverse engineer a T shirt and went from there. I sewed it by hand and it’s served well for the past 2 years. A T shirt type thing really isn’t hard! It doesn’t need a lot of expensive stuff. You can take your time on it and see if you like sewing.

I later did the blue tunic, based, in part, on a sundress I own. Both of these were learning experiences for me on how to put things together. There are TONS of free resources and sewing demonstrations on YouTube, so it’s really easy if you’re stuck to go learn how to do it online.

I did buy a sewing machine at the end of last year as I decided I did want to do more of my own stuff- I’m a competitive cuss at the end of the day. It made the process much, much faster, and my results are better, too. I’m planning on version 2 of my Champions tunic this weekend.

Cosplay is really fun and I’ve had a whole thing exploring who I am even after I was pretty sure I already knew that. So no matter what level you’re doing it at, I totally recommend it.

On to photos…I self shoot a lot, but I’ve also gone and done some shoots. Photo shoots are also fun if you have a photographer you trust and are willing to be open to trying stuff. If you’re not comfortable with that yet, I recommend the art of the selfie.

Hear me out.

I got into cosplay in the fall of 2019 and I planned so many cons for 2020! We all know how that went. So I suddenly had this brand new hobby and no way to express it AND being an essential worker with a job that suddenly tripled in its insanity, very much needed an escape. Cosplayers turned to tiktok and instagram and I found myself suddenly having to learn both platforms.

I had help in the form of a discord full of much younger Zelda cosplayers who were willing to teach me stuff. But I still had to make stuff I was comfortable showing off.

So I took selfies. Thousands of them, most deleted immediately as I hated them. I did not like myself on camera for a variety of reasons but I kept taking them and sometimes they came out good. At this point, I’m pretty comfortable in front of MY camera. I have learned what angle and lighting look good. I have become that person on the book of faces taking a selfie in front of anything interesting I find.

But man, that took time and a lot of internal cringing.

It helps to approach it as play- I had to play with lighting and backgrounds. I started with an old bedsheet as my backdrop and a $20 ring light on a tripod I already owned. My setup still isn’t very complex- I still rely on that ring light a lot, but I have a couple of other lights on an Amazon wish list as I’d like to continue playing once winter is back. I have a couple professional backdrops I bought from a place called Kate Backdrop- they have a bajillion styles and many lend themselves to Zelda stuff and they look really convincing in pictures. They are reasonably priced for the size I use and there are sales where you can save more.

I’d like to learn how to edit my images next- right now I’m just doing the auto color correct on my phone. I use my phone as my camera and until very recently I was shooting on an iPhone 8. If you have a phone with a portrait mode, that’s a quick and easy way to make your photos look really good.

But yeah….it’s really just about practicing. Set up your phone and either use the timer or get a little remote trigger and just shoot a bunch. Learn what looks cool with your props. Be silly. It’s supposed to be fun. Have fun.

I was utterly horrified the first time someone else took photos of me and put them online (they asked first). They tried to pose me and I was just super self conscious and felt awkward and oh yeah you can see it. But now I have a go to pose I strike when someone asks at a con. It could be better. But acting in character is a skill, too, and skills can be learned and honed. You just gotta do it.

I’m more than happy to answer any more specific questions if I didn’t quite answer the way you were asking. I love cosplay and I’ve grown to enjoy taking photos to the point I’ll strike out into a local park in full gear and go ham with my phone.

[fiiniaofficial]

Process of "I need more space"

Here is the iffy process of a few screenshots I had saved during this project; I tend to send screenshots to my friend and put them out on my brother's server as I draw something. So I typically pile up huge screenshots over time if I actively go looking for them.

I really wanted to get some calm nice vibes when I was making this, so I listened to a lot of calm music like:

Good Kid - Pox

Pretty Patterns - PROXIMA

Cavetown - Grocery Store

When I usually draw things, I tend to start with smaller little doodles of something. I felt like drawing a few apple blossoms somewhere back in July, that expanded a fair bit.

I have always liked saving a ton of pictures of things I like. Because I liked a flower in the corner, there was a nice ribbon on a gift, a cool street lamp from a weird angle... Since I was a kid I would sort of save things up like this to make collages for inspiration. That day I saw some pictures of some really nice apple blossoms, so I felt like drawing some.

After that I found pictures of astronauts, so of course as followed...

I thought it was so cool how the mirror part of an astronaut helmet looked, but it felt so dull that I wanted to put a face in there somehow to be a little bit visible. So I thought that the shadows from the hand could make a cool effect with the sharp eyes looking through in the center of the image. Sadly though, it took me quite a while to figure out what to do with that as I didn't end up liking it as much as I thought I would.

After a lot of thought, what followed was pretty much:

Apple blossom → Apple tree → Apple tree grows apples → Oh my god I can put apples on the grass → Oh my god he can hold an apple → Oh my god it can still give the cool shadow effect with the eyes.

The line-art

Colouring process that took forever:

This is the part that took the longest: The light effect that I wanted to be done perfectly.

Pink tint to blend the colours better for the process:

After a ton of work: I achieved this kind of light and shadow. Now I only needed to fix the shiny parts of the image! I wanted the petals to absolutely glow. (The apples and grass were a bonus idea afterwards)

I would do a lot of colour re-adjustments underneath the lighting as well as add things into it to make it look better. The way this drawing looks without that light can be a bit confusing colouringwise in that sense.

I had the idea to put the text on the helmet originally, but my brother said it would take away the attention from the face and sort of block it in a way. He was completely right about that; so I put it up in the corner after struggling for a while.

This was a bit of a messy rundown of things, but I spent a lot of days on this and it's a bit hard for me to use words to explain things. I find it easier to just share my screen and explain as I go through the cake of layers.

That is how I ended up finishing my boy, just a little aspie needing some space and quiet to wind down after a long day.

[jaehyunnie77]

hey babess i love your writing! can i request a jaehyun x ceo! y/n fic? (fluff + smut) something along the lines of jaehyun being the only one who can turn boss babe y/n soft & submissive?

Pairing: assistant!jaehyun x female!ceo

Genre: smut and tiny fluff

Warnings: mentions of masturbation, sexual tension, office sex, fingering, oral (male recieving), dom jaehyun, sub reader, protected sex

Word Count: 2.2k

a/n: hi love! thank you so much for the request. it makes me so happy to hear you love my writing <3. I had fun writing this one. I'm so sorry this took forever, but I do hope you like it. Also, Lemonade and Sticker Jaehyun did something to me so I got carried away a bit lol. enjoy

—

Knock knock.

"Come in!" you yell keeping your eyes on the computer screen. You really don't understand why people use Urgent as the subject line when it wasn't really urgent at all. The door to your office opens and the woody cologne of your assistant hits your nose. It takes everything in you to continue reading the email.

"Miss Y/LN, you have a five o'clock meeting today with design department." Jeong Jaehyun looks at his tablet in his hand to make sure there wasn't anything else he was missing. Last time you missed an important conference call all because he wasn't paying close attention to your schedule.

"Fuck." you say under your breath. You completely forgot about the meeting and honestly, didn't want to go. You stop reading and rub your temples. You look up just in time at your assistant and you both lock eyes. There is no denying there is heavy sexual tension between you both. Everyone in the office, hell, everyone in the entire building can sense the chemistry between you and your assistant.

You won't admit it to anyone, but the way he talks to you in his soft voice, makes your ovaries go in overdrive. The way his hand would slightly touch yours when handing you papers, gave you goosebumps. From your desk you have a perfect view of him, you can't help but look at him and daydream. When you two would talk about something outside of work, you can't help but smile and laugh with him. You wouldn't say you were whip for him, he was just a good eye candy to have around during stressful times.

Okay, you may have thought about him and his fingers a couple of times whenever you masturbated, but no one needed to know that.

However, you would never act on those fantasies because you are the CEO of a multimillion-fashion company. You can't afford to be distracted.

"Cancel and move it to another date and time next week. I have all of these paperwork I need to sort through." you say.

Jaehyun nods his head as his hand starts tapping away on his tablet. "Done. Is there anything else I can do for you?"

"No that is all. You may leave for the day."

Jaehyun gives you another nod and walks out of your office. You stare at his back and thirst over his figure. You wish you could run your hands all over his broad shoulders, hug around his waist, and your hands running through his gel back hair.

Jeong Jaehyun has been your assistant for the last four months and surprisingly, he is the only one who stayed the longest. All of your other assistants were either fired or quit because of how demanding you are. You were prepared to find another assistant when Jaehyun quit, but he could handle your sharp tongue and ranging mood swings.

In the end, it works out for you because you get to see his muscles flex and his dimples almost every day of the week. You get to boss him around whenever you like just to see if he would break one day. Strangely enough, he is the only one who makes you feel this way, both horny and soft for him.

If you could, you would fuck him on your desk and have your way with him. You would edge and overstimulate him over and over again, if only your reputation wasn't on the line. Your pussy clench around nothing with just the thought of Jaehyun under you. Before your imagination could run any more wilder, you get back to work.

The following day, you were overwhelmed with the stacks of paper work that sat on your desk. Jaehyun has been helping you sort through most of it the entire day and by the time you look at your clock, it was well past eleven o'clock. You sigh as you glance over at Jaehyun who looks just as tired as you.

"Jaehyun that should be it for today. We can sort through the rest on Monday." you collect the papers in front of you and put them in your file cabinet. "You should go home to your girlfriend or whoever is waiting for you at home." you mentally slap yourself for even saying that aloud.

Jaehyun sees your flustered state and grins as he puts the stack of papers on one side of his desk. "It's fine and for your information, I don't have anyone waiting for me."

You try your hardest to breathe and tighten your cross legs. It was his voice and the way he said it that sent shivers down your spine. His sexy sulky voice that you've heard once and made your pussy clench. Oh how you want to fulfill your fantasies right now.

"Miss Y/LN?"

"Yes Jaehyun?"

You didn't notice Jaehyun getting up from his chair and walking towards you.

"Y/N."

You finally look up surprise to see him leaning against your desk right beside you. He has a cocky smile and even from this angle, he looks like a hot Thor, but hotter.

You gulp as you regain your composure, "What is it Jaehyun?"

Jaehyun leans down, his face comes closer to yours, and you don't dare back away. When his face was inches from yours, you whisper, "This is unprofessional."

He gazes into your eyes, still smirking, "Was it unprofessional all the times we've been eye fucking from across the room?"

You sigh as you gave in and close the gap connecting your lips. It was cold a minute ago, but now it was hot. Hot and sexy. He grabs your neck to keep you in place as you get up from your chair and your hands finding their way to his neck. Both of your hands wander all over each other, until you start to unbutton his white shirt and he unzips your dress.

The height difference is making you weak, but you want to show him you're the boss and dominate him. Jaehyun notices what you're doing and you feel him smile in your heated make out session.

"Still trying to be the boss Y/N?"

"I am the boss Jaehyun." You finally get rid of his shirt and damn, does this man work out. You stop to admire his hardened abs, while Jaehyun finally takes off your dress, admiring you in just your bra and panties. You both take each other in.

To be clear, this has never happened before to you. You were always the one to set the pace, to show your partners for the night you were in charge, but this was different. Jaehyun was different. He was captivating and you wanted him to destroy you now that you've seen what it's like to be kissed and touched by him.

He leaves kisses on your jaw, your neck, to your chest and as he senses the sudden change in attitude, he growls. He captures your lips once more as he picks you up to sit you on your desk. He pushes everything on top of your desk away onto the floor and lays you down. He continues his kiss attack by leaving purple bruises all over your chest, boobs, and stomach. When he finally reaches where you need him the most, he teases you over your panties.

"Jaehyun." you whine.

"Yes baby." Even the nickname is driving you crazy.

"Stop teasing."

"If you say so." Jaehyun pushes your panties to the side and slides a finger between your folds.

"You're dripping wet. All for me?"

Without an answer or a warning, he pushes in a finger, then a second. The stretch makes your back arch as he pumps his digits into you. He curls his fingers and set a rapid pace as your walls pulsate around his fingers making you see the stars. Before you could reach your orgasm, he stops and takes them out.

"Jaehyun!"

"No. Be a good girl and don't come until I tell you to."

"I would do no such -"

He reinserts his fingers pumping into you again and when you clench, he stops again. He loves to see your expression when you were right on the edge and can see the frustration take over.

"J-"

"I said, be a good girl and come when I tell you to. If not, you won't come and we'll do this all night if we have to."

Fuck was he hot.

You whimper as you slowly nod to his command.

"Good girl. Now get on your knees."

You sit back up and get down on your knees anticipating for what's to come. Just as you were about to unzip his pants, he stops you with his hand on your wrist. "Don't. Hand behind your back." Once again, you did as you were told as you watch Jaehyun slowly unzip his pants and bring down his boxers. His long hard cock standing proud almost hitting your face. Precum visible as it leaks from his tip. You unconsciously lick your lips wanting nothing more than to have him in your mouth.

"Suck."

With your hands still behind your back, you inch forward and put him in your mouth. Jaehyun groans at the feeling of your warm mouth around him. You bob and twist your head as you slurp on his dick. Saliva mix with his precum are coming out of the corner of your mouth. You pull off him to catch your breath but Jaehyun wasn't having it. He grabs the back of your head, pushes his cock into your mouth, and fucks your mouth. You feel him hit the back of your throat and gag around him.

Jaehyun hisses when you moan and gag around him, "You're fucking sexy."

When he feels himself almost coming, he pulls you off, helps you up from the ground, and bend you over the desk. "Spread your legs."

You do as you he says and spread your legs best as you can. He grabs a condom from his wallet and rolls it on, pumping himself a few times before finally entering you. You let out a loud moan when his girth stretches you out perfectly. You feel so full.

Jaehyun doesn't wait for you to get use to him as he starts to pound into you. The way his hips thrusts into you has you moving up on your desk. You try to grab onto anything, but Jaehyun kept your hands behind your back still. Your head laid to the side and Jaehyun has the perfect view of your fucked out face.

He leans down next to your ears, "Do you think you could boss me around as a lost boy?" he thrusts harder.

"J-Jaehyun, ahh!"

"Do you think you could make me your bitch boy and tell everyone to reschedule your meetings every day?"

"Fuck!"

"Ah, do you think you could tease me every day when you wear those short dresses and skirts, bend over in front of me, and don't expect me to get hard?"

"Fuck fuck fuck!"

"What would everyone say when the CEO is getting fucked by her assistant?"

"Th-they w-won't b-believe y-you."

He growls in your ear, "Even when I'm balls deep in you, you still want to be the boss."

He pounds into your harder and faster making you see the stars, "Please Jaehyun."

"Who's the boss Y/N?" Jaehyun pulls your hair bringing you up to his chest. The new position as him hitting in deeper as you continue seeing the stars as tears fall out of your eyes.

"Jaehyun! You are! Oh my fucking God! Please don't stop, don't stop."

"You like that? You like getting your hair pulled?"

"Fuck yes! Only for you. Please let me come."

He was getting close too, "Come on my dick baby." You didn't need to be told twice as you let go and cum on his cock and soon enough he also reach his climax.

His hold on your hair loosens up as you fall forward on your desk with him falling on top of you, both of you worn out. He kisses your glistening shoulders as you feel him go soft inside of you. He pulls out throwing the condom away and helps you get dress.

Standing there with clothes back on and hair slightly messy, you suddenly feel shy. Jaehyun caresses your cheek as you shyly look up at him, a warm smile on his face with those beautiful dimples showing.

"Hi." he whispers.

"Hi." you feel yourself get butterflies in your stomach.

"I know this is reverse, but do you want to get dinner tomorrow?"

You study his face for any remorse or seriousness, but all you found is adoring eyes staring back at you.

"I'd love that, but," you pause. Jaehyun's expression falls.

"But?"

"But I'm still your boss and," you wrap your arms around his neck while his found your waist, "you're fired."

You smile up at him, feeling the rumble of his laughter. "That is fine by me as long as I have you by my side." He kisses your lips and you kiss back.

"About time honestly." you joke as you detached yourself to get your purse.

Jaehyun smiles at you, "Well if you weren't so busy bossing me around and playing this cat and mouse game -"

You lightly smack his chest laughing and you both walk out of your office interlocking your hands.

[boykingdom]

Dean doesn’t have to drive far before he finds Cas. He’d had a hunch Cas might be waiting for him no matter the direction he went, but still he can’t help the sigh of relief he lets out when he sees the slump of Cas’ shoulders among the trees.

He doesn’t have to walk far, either, once he’s pulled the Impala into the grass beside the road and let the metal door shut behind him with a creak. He’s in the forest after a few paces—it’s a pretty forest, all green and overgrown, the tan of Cas’ coat standing out purely for its dullness. Cas’ back is to him and he’s looking down at something, hands in his pockets, but the rigidity with which he holds himself gives away his awareness of Dean’s presence. Cas won’t turn toward him but will angle his head so Dean can see the sharp line of his cheekbone, like he’s any sort of thing that would need ears to gauge how close Dean is.

Dean has half a mind to hesitate, to stop and take a deep breath and collect his thoughts or something, but he’s so fucking tired of not being near Cas and of schooling how much he gives away to Cas in every conversation that he walks up so their shoulders are inches apart and he doesn’t think twice about it. He looks down to take in what Cas is looking at and finds a small pond with a few muddy-gray fish scooting their bellies across the silt. Dean thinks Cas might be gearing up for a speech about the fish and creation and humanity, something nice and cinematic to bookend their journey, but instead Cas says, “Hello, Dean.”

That works, too. At least Dean knows how to respond to that one. “Heya, Cas.”

They’re silent for a second.

“Sam?” says Cas. 

“Went off to the Roadhouse. Wanted to see Bobby and Ellen and Jo,” says Dean. “But you knew that already.”

“Mm. I did.”

They both watch the fish drift. One comes close enough to the surface to form gentle ripples in the water.

Then Dean is smiling, because he can see Cas out of the corner of his eye, see the way he shifts and fidgets and is so clearly also looking at Dean out of the corner of his own eye. It occurs to Dean that Cas is nervous—that after everything they’ve been through, after the end of the world, after Cas’ big sacrifice, this angel of the Lord is nervous to speak to his best friend of twelve years. Dean can’t help but take the opportunity to tease him.

“What, did you think we’d never talk about it?”

A pause. Cas half-grumbles, “I thought I’d have a few decades to prepare something to say.”

And then Dean is laughing and laughing and bent over double with it because this whole thing is so fucking absurd and he’s so happy to be standing here next to Cas, weird and awkward Cas who pulled him out of Hell and told Dean he was in love with him just months ago. Cas who he thought he had lost forever. Dean laughs so hard he cries and then he—he cries, and cries, and he’s not laughing anymore. It happens fast and hard. Cas finally turns to him, eyes wide and hands suspended in front of him like he’s not sure if he’s allowed to touch. Dean’s sniveling and holding his jacket sleeve under his nose so his face doesn’t get all snotty but he probably looks fucking gross anyway, the way the tears won’t stop coming. Cas says, “Dean?” all worried and concerned. Dean practically falls forward into him, wraps his arms around Cas’ waist to clutch at the back of his coat and shakes when Cas immediately holds him in return.

“I missed you so bad,” Dean sobs into Cas’ shoulder. “I missed you so bad. I thought I would never see you again. I missed you so bad.”

“Oh,” Cas breathes. “I’m here. It’s okay. I’m right here.” Cas hugs him tighter, leaving no spaces between their bodies. His voice breaks a little when he says, “I missed you, too.”

They stand like that for a moment. The forest buzzes around them, twiddling with birds and squirrels and insects. Dean breathes Cas in, feels him warm and safe and real in his arms. It’s a small piece of Earth here in Heaven. Unlike any other time before, Dean lets himself lean into it, touch Cas without Death looming over their shoulders. It feels good.

Dean does calm down after a few minutes, and as much as he would love to freeze time and stay suspended in that moment, he knows he can have even more if he gives it one last push. He pulls away, Cas’ hands sliding off his coat, lingering. “Sorry,” he says, a little embarrassed despite himself.

“Don’t be,” says Cas, in a way a that shows he really means it. Dean clears his throat and looks at him. Cas looks back. The whole thing is so achingly familiar, so akin to how they were when they first met. Even when Cas was alien and unknowable and potentially a threat, Dean always had to stifle the breathless thrill of having Cas’ attention. He doesn’t stifle it now.

He hasn’t quite internalized all the things Cas said to him, but he can see Cas was telling the truth about one thing—he is clearly so happy to be standing at the edge of this pond with Dean. Nothing in his gaze is asking for something more.

And as much as Cas would argue differently, Dean isn’t as good as him. He was never content just wanting. He had long ago accepted that he could never have Cas, sure, had recognized that he would spend the rest of his life with a horrible ache in his chest, that he would white-knuckle the wheel of the Impala to keep himself from touching. But he couldn’t find peace with it. Love rotted in him like a body at the bottom of a well. He spent a long time thinking it would kill him and kill Cas too, that it was a weapon to be used against them both, that the heat of his gaze would actually burn Cas if he looked long enough. He still has to choke down those half-formed thoughts when he looks at Cas now and can see in his eyes that he loves Dean without reservation, that despite everything he doesn’t think of Dean’s love as a death sentence. That he wants him.

Dean’s mind was made up the second Bobby had mentioned Cas’ name on the porch. It took him too long to untangle that part of himself that couldn’t separate loving men from danger, but he did untangle it, in the end.

“I know I can do it,” Dean says, both to Cas and to himself, “but I think it might be hard.”

Cas’ brow flickers in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“This,” he answers, gesturing lamely at the two of them, at the space between them. He swallows, steels himself, thinks of all the words he spent the nights since Cas died murmuring into his pillow, deliriously drunk. “I don’t know— I don’t know how to be this to someone— to you. I’ve never— and you’re—”

He’s getting frustrated, is upset that after thinking so long and hard about this moment for so many years he somehow still doesn’t know how to explain to Cas how much he means to him, how much he wants him, how hard it is to beat down his self-hatred and accept that he might just deserve Cas, too. But Christ, he wants to try.

“Dean?” Cas says. Dean can see in his expression the flowering bud of hope. He is so beautiful.

“I love you too,” Dean says, because it’s the best explanation he can give. His heart is beating so hard he can feel it in his throat. Cas blinks; his mouth drops open. “God, Cas, you have to know that. Of course I love you too.”

“You mean...?” Cas can’t finish the question. He’s looking at Dean like a man finding faith, finding Heaven. Dean feels so overwhelmed and so happy for the two of them and surely he’s still red from crying before, but again he feels himself burning.

“I’ve been yours,” he chokes out. “You can have me. Please.”

Cas kisses Dean. It happens so fast that Dean feels it coming rather than sees it, feels Cas’ hands on his face, feels himself be tugged forward. Cas’ hands are shaking and Dean’s are too when he grips the front of Cas’ shirt and the back of his neck, eyes closed tight, learning the shape of his mouth. It’s hard and a little desperate and not at all artful, and Dean’s whole self feels a bit like an open wound but Cas is healing him, like he always has, like he has since the beginning.

Dean pulls away for air but doesn’t pull far, keeping his forehead pressed to Cas’ and his eyes shut. Cas’ thumb strokes his cheekbone. “Dean,” Cas says, and Dean takes a deep, shuddering breath. The way Cas says his name doesn’t scare him anymore.

Dean opens his eyes. He smiles. “Hi,” he says.

Cas smiles back.

**

They’re sitting in the Impala, Dean’s hand on Cas’ thigh, when Cas asks, “What do you want to do now?”

Dean pauses, thinks. The answer to what do you want has been Cas for so long, but he never let himself think far enough to decide what he would do if he ever got him. He’s safe, Cas is safe, Sam is safe. Realistically, he shouldn’t want for anything.

He looks out the Impala’s windshield, smooths the hand not holding Cas over the steering wheel. He knows that he loves this car with everything he is—that for a long time it was the only home he had. He also knows that he’s tired of the road. Desire has always come too easily to Dean.

“I think I’ll build us a house,” he answers, and immediately he knows it’s the right thing to do. They can pick a spot wherever Cas wants—Dean’s not picky. It’ll be something solid, something with walls that he built with trees he cut himself. Something that reflects the home he already built for Cas, the one that lives between his ribs.

Cas’ eyes light up. “I like that plan,” he says. “I want that, too.”

Years ago, Cas had sat in Dean’s passenger seat and asked him if he would rather have peace or freedom. Dean never got the chance to answer him.

Dean leans across the seat and kisses Cas again, open-mouthed, slow. He does it for him now and for the version of himself who mourned the distance between them. It’s answer enough.

[sukirichi]

earned it (3)

Gojo Satoru is a firm believer that if you work hard for it then you shall earn it. But on the other side, he’s not unfamiliar with his own sins. He also believes that there is punishment due for his sins as he’s earned it.

cw. mentions of murder, explicit smut, oral (m. receiving), mentions of violence, TW dub-con, drama, drugs, mentions of virginity loss, dirty talk, unedited as always

series masterlist

Pained groans filled your ears, coating the dead silent night. Immediately, you sprang up awake, finding your husband clutching his knee beside you. You rushed to the bathroom to prepare an iced compress, helping him sit beside the bed. Naoya breathed heavily above you, his usually slicked back hair falling into soft bangs above his eyes. In this light, the fierceness of his face had smoothened down into that of vulnerability, fox-eyes replaced with a sort of tenderness that partnered his pain.

Looking down at the ragged scar running down his thigh to his knee, the gnarly scar popped from his otherwise flawless skin, you ran your hands over it. Naoya sighed as you kissed the scar gently, rubbing soothing circles over his good knee.

“Does it still hurt?”

“A little,” he admitted. Both of you enjoyed the comfortable silence after that, with you kneeling on the floor as you helped numb his pain, your husband’s fingers looped through yours. Minutes passed and soon, the sunlight streaked behind him from the floor length glass windows, illuminating your dark silhouettes in a golden glow. Naoya’s eyes flickered to the clock on your table, his hands squeezing yours for a fleeting moment. “It’s today. Are you ready?”

No, you wanted to say. You and him had prepared for this moment better than anyone else, and yet, you couldn’t ignore the tightening of your chest. Much like Naoya, you both held wounds that couldn’t be healed by time.

But Naoya looked at you expectantly, soft hands cupping your face as if he immediately read the worry written all over you.

You wanted to cry, wanted to stay in his arms and pretend nothing would go wrong, but you couldn’t do it. Not when he’d saved you countless of times before, and this was your only chance of saving him.

Naoya needed you more than ever – you had to stay strong from him.

“As long as you’re there, I’ll be ready for anything,” you smiled at him, feeling warmth spread all over your chest when he reciprocated the gesture. You liked it on him; he always felt a lot more youthful every time he smiled. Reaching up to kiss his forehead, you trailed your lips down to the ring adorning his fingers to look him straight in the eye. “Always?”

Naoya nodded as a promise, “Forever.”

Your hands treaded through Satoru’s locks, his lips sweet and tender as he tasted you. It had been a few months since your arrangement began, and slowly but surely, little by little, you were growing more comfortable with him. There was still that voice at the back of your head screaming that maybe this was wrong, this was dangerous; you didn’t know him very well – but these thoughts slipped away the moment you felt his lips on yours.

If it was wrong, why did you fit in his arms so right? He felt like home; peaceful, secure, strong and stable. If it was dangerous, why was your heart at peace? If you didn’t know him very well, why did it feel like had always been there, a fragment you’d been unknowingly waiting to build you up in all those lonely years you walked this earth?

You’d definitely underestimated him. The cocky and smooth customer turned out to be the most caring person ever, his kindness showing through the fact he’d never pushed you for anything.

Making out with him was now a daily occurrence, though you never got past the first base. Sure, there would be teasing touches under your shirt, your curious hands trailing over his pants, but it had never escalated into more than that. You could tell Satoru was holding back; the painful tent in his slacks enough proof of this. His hardened cock rubbed against the thin material of your shorts as you grinded against him, earning a harmonious man from the man who’d gotten so addicted to worshipping you.

“Satoru, hmm, baby,” you stopped kissing him, turning to look at where his hands gripped at the flesh of your thighs. A thin thread of spit connected your lips from your heavy make out session, though your mind felt dazed, core burning at the friction. If you could just...

Satoru easily caught on the words bit down your tongue, his calloused hands caressing your cheek to coax it out of you. “What is it, angel?”

“I…Can I try something with you?”

“What is it?” he tapped your cheek, a sweet smile on his face when you groaned in embarrassment, head buried in the crook of his neck. “It’s okay, don’t be shy.”

“Well, you’re always making me feel good and I know you’re holding back so I just wanted to…”

“Wanted to what, angel?” he pulled you back so he could look at your face, his usual teasing grin now hardened into a serious expression. Satoru had always been adamant to put your comfort above all else, his voice dropping an octave lower as he massaged your thigh. “I can’t know if you won’t tell me.”

Taking a deep breath, you managed to look him in the eye, squeaking out, “I want to make you feel good too.”

Satoru’s brows dipped down. “Angel,” he said, that saccharine nickname dripping like honey from his lips. Did he even know how much effect he had over your heart? Apparently not, because Satoru swooped down to steal your breath away, pressing his lips harder to reassure you he respected your limits. “You don’t have to.”

“I want to,” you insisted, hands fisted on his shirt. “Want to taste you.”

Satoru opened his mouth to speak, but you were faster, and for the first time in his life, he did not see something coming. His back hit the wooden headboard as you crawled down on his lap, tugging his pants down to palm the erection bulging from his boxers. His groans were deeply masculine, so fucking sexy coming from him that you rubbed your core against the sheets in desperate search for friction.

Your hands fumbled for his boxers until you completely pulled it down, gasping when his thick member slapped at his toned stomach. His muscles clenched above you, thighs quaking from your ministrations.

Truthfully, you had not the slightest idea of why he seemed so aroused when you were inexperienced at this. You had to keep sending him nervous glances as you placed a tentative grip at the base, thumb swiping the pre-cum away from his tip. Satoru’s head fell back on the pillows, strings of curses spilling past his lips. Fuck, you had no idea how to do this; you just hoped it could be good for him. Deciding to hell with it, you slipped the throbbing member inside your lips, his reaction reflexive.

Satoru fisted the sheets under him, hips thrusting up. The action caused him to buck deep into your mouth until he hit the back of your threat, tears springing at your eyes. You wanted to pull out to breathe until you looked at Satoru, and fuck, did your mind change.

“Goddamn, angel!”

Your boyfriend looked absolutely delectable like this – shirt crumpled and eyes snapped shut from the pleasure. His cock burned in your mouth, and purely out of curiosity, you swirled your tongue around his vein just to see his reaction. Satoru’s blown out pupils met yours the deeper you took him in, his arm reaching out to fist at your hair. It wasn’t painful – he never hurt you even if sometimes you wished he could go a little rougher – but you were determined to evoke more of those pretty moans from him, fighting back the tears that blurred him from your sight.

Your throat would burn like a bitch by the end of this, though that no longer mattered when his composed self fell apart bit by bits. Gosh, you loved him so much; you could keep him in your mouth forever if that could express it.

Satoru moaned the instant you hollowed your cheeks around him, pushing his hands away that moved to hold you. You didn’t want to be romantic; you just wanted to make him cum.

He saw your determination to push you over the edge that he let go, slipping his fingers through yours instead. It shouldn’t have felt so domestic when you sucked him off good, but nothing had never felt more right. You pulled him off with a pop, licking all around the base to coat his cock with his cum and drool. His groans painted the room and he wouldn’t stop squirming underneath you, dulcet low moans so, so addicting.

Other than his moans, you were also addicted by the taste of him. You flipped your head at a different angle before you took him in again, flattening your tongue on the base and making sure to poke hard on the veins. He had a fucked out grin as his knees bucked beside him, his hands keeping you flat on his head.

“Yeah, angel,” he gritted his teeth, “That’s so fucking good.”

Was he coming?

You had no idea, having never done this before. For now, you just wanted to repay all the kindness he’d shown you by sucking him off good that he’d never forget you. You probably cursed him then, conditioned this man into being so addicted to you that he would never even think about leaving.

The mere thought of that had you choking on his cock, driving him back deep your throat. Your nose came in contact with the neatly trimmed hairs on his base as you gagged on his length, nails dug deep into the linen sheets beside you.

One thrust, two more – his cock twitched, then he came. “Right there, angel, fuck!” he spilled inside you, pulling out just in time for the rest to smatter all across your face. You drew back just as his semen painted your face like he was the artist and you were the canvas, and you didn’t think you’d ever felt so majestic in your life. Satoru gripped his cock to smear the contents all over your face, on that day giving you a hint just how much of a kinky little shit he really was, but you let him – because you loved him, and you’d do anything for the one you loved. As you sat there licking away the cum sprayed on your face, he tugged you upwards for a kiss.

You leaned away, thinking he could be disgusted by the bitter taste flowing down your throat, but he paid no mind. He kissed you hard and deep, effortlessly flipping both your bodies until were trapped underneath him, cornered by the love pooling in his eyes. You stared up at him with that same adoration, albeit more hesitant, the pounding in your heart incredibly loud.

You were falling fast – way too fast – that you couldn’t comprehend what would happen if this ended. What if he didn’t feel the same way? What if you were still just a baby girl? Were you mistaking his post orgasm bliss with something else, were you getting too ahead of yourself?

Satoru nudged his chin on your neck, his lips hovering right before your ear. You could hear each ragged breath, your attention zeroed in on the deep, long cut that ran on his back. Not really aware of your actions, you slipped your hand downwards to trace the ragged flesh. Satoru hissed above you, his weight nearly crushing yours as he pulled you in for an embrace far too intimate for an agreement purely on casual fucks and company.

At least, that had been your belief, until – “I think…I’m falling for you.”

You didn’t remember any time you had cried harder, the sobs wreaking your chest desperate and pitiful. Satoru kissed your tears away, each peck of his lips translating to a thousand more i love you’s that healed every crack in your soul.

You held him close then, chest to chest, hearts beating above one another. Perhaps it was too early, but you loved him – excruciatingly so it scared you deep to the bone.

“Me too,” you cried, “I love you – I love you, I—”

“Shh, angel,” he cooed, his hands now trailing down your hips. He gripped at it, his cock once again hard as it teased your entrance. You knew what was to come next, and you squeezed his bicep in anticipation, both fear and anticipation exploding through your nerves. Satoru gazed at you warmly as he read the multiple thoughts running in your head, foreheads pressed into one another as he asked, “Can I show you? Do you trust me, angel?”

“Yes,” you answered in a beat, “A million times yes.”

“I’ll show you then,” he laced his fingers through yours, a lopsided grin so impossibly handsome you just fell harder for him. “I’ll show you how much I love you. I’ll make you feel it deep ‘til you never think about anyone else but me.”

Had he failed then? Had he not shown you enough how much he loved you?

You were the same, but the person standing in front of him seemed so impossible to be you, as well. Your once sweet smile had been replenished by a perfectly practiced one, the taut tightness of your lips and the faux charm so sickeningly sweet.

But it wasn’t what he hated the most. It was the fact he was there, holding you right where Satoru once used to, kissing you right on the lips Satoru used to ravish all by himself.

He didn’t know what he was feeling. Anger? Jealousy? Hatred – upon himself or upon you?

He didn’t know, couldn’t understand anything, that he brushed past Suguru’s equally stupefied face and found comfort in the back part of the cruise. Satoru had lost count of the drinks he’d taken from the waiters who had began to look worried, but he didn’t give a fuck. The image of you comfortably situated by that bastard’s side of all people stirred something dark within his chest. Satoru stared out into the dark ocean instead, dumping his drinks with a scoff.

What a fucking joke, he laughed at himself. He believed leaving you would mean protecting you, but life had a funny way of playing its part.

“Mr. Gojo,” an all-too familiar voice, one that was much too sweet and golden for his liking, caught his attention. His eyes slid over to your form, his jaw clenched at how empty your eyes seemed. There was no spark, not a trace of the light he had always loved, and not a sliver of warmth that never failed to melt his heart. It almost felt like it wasn’t you until your perfectly manicured nails rested atop his shoulder, all elegance and grace in your steps – just as he’d expected from the infamous Zen’in wife. “My husband, Naoya, wishes to speak to you.”

Husband. So you really married him.

You spun away from him with a salacious roll of your hips, and just like that, Satoru snapped. This was you, this had to be you – except it scared him shitless this time around because you were the one walking away from him.

It reminded him of the day he left you, dread sinking deep into the pits of his stomach. Satoru reached you in two long strides, spinning you around until you nearly collided on his chest. You glared at him so harshly he might’ve burned to the ground but god, this really was you and he fucking missed you – so badly that his suit felt impossibly tight he couldn’t breathe. You were still warm against him, soft in the places he was hard, and you were, you were there.

You came back to him.

“Angel,” his voice cracked, “I know that’s you, please—”

But your grip was ice-cold, eyes shooting daggers at the offensive hand on your shoulder. “Let go of me before I shoot your arm off, Mr. Gojo,” you sneered at him, the tension attracting the attention of other guests. Satoru could feel it; the burning gaze of passerby’s who’d stopped in their chatter to spectate the scene. “Just because you are invited, doesn’t mean you get to be too comfortable with me. You and I are not friends, much less acquaintances. Let me go.”

It’s over, his own voice screamed back at him, Let’s go.

Right. He left you, and it made sense you couldn’t stand to be around him. With a broken heart, he removed his hands on you, ignoring the slight scoff following afterwards. Satoru trailed after you like an obedient puppy as you led him inside a narrow hallway, unsurprised as two burly guards slid the double doors open.

Inside the grand room sat your husband himself, his good leg perched on top of his bad one. He was in the middle of his drink, cockily clanking the ice against the glass. His cane perched on the other side of the sofa, just out of it’s owners reach.

Satoru wanted to punch his stupid face but held back as you quickly seated beside him, possessive hands on top of his thighs. He took the seat across the both of you, his lips pressed into a flat line, unimpressed by the turn of events. Though the ocean reflecting the beauty of the moonlight gleamed terribly divine that night, and you illuminated even more radiantly than ever, Satoru felt no entertainment, no joy – just pure hatred.

“Gojo Satoru, the Six Eyes himself. It’s an honour to meet you.”

“You met me before,” he responded stiffly, expecting that Naoya would crack the same way his fucked up father would. But no, he was by far worse, the young man tipping his head back in laughter as if Satoru said the funniest thing.

Beside him, you buried yourself deeper into his arms, absentmindedly sniffing Naoya’s perfume before your shoulders visibly relaxed.

It was clear you trusted this man with your whole heart, though Satoru couldn’t make sense of the attachment. Why him? How did you meet him? Was it right after he left you? How did you wound up in the world he tried so hard to keep you away from? On reflex, Satoru’s need to protect you never wavered even after years, and his gaze trailed down each inch of your exposed skin to look for scars.

Nothing. Not even a single sratch.

And as if feeling his gaze on yours, you smirked back at him smugly, that damned smile reminding him that your husband was more than capable of – what he couldn’t do – protecting you. It was such a harsh slap to his face because Satoru was most evidently the most powerful man in the room; he had more connections, had been in this world long before he walked, had more experience and bloodlust than anyone else, and yet...he couldn’t keep you.

“Indeed, and it wasn’t such a great experience, was it?” Naoya’s voice kept droning on, waving a slender hand in the air. “This is what this party is for. I hope to alleviate any tensions my father may have caused between other clans,” he nodded at the untouched drink in front of Satoru, “Please, enjoy yourself. I only wish to discuss something about Xenet with you.”

“Xenet? You mean the drug your family tried so hard to keep to yourselves?”

“Yes, that. My father…was too prideful with his creations. He didn’t want to share what was his,” Naoya smirked to himself and leaned back into the chair, with you following the motion. Satoru fisted the couch so hard he might as well break it, unable to tear his eyes away from the comfortable way you rested on Naoya’s chest, blinking up innocently at him as you did so. Your husband paid you no mind, seemingly way too used by your affectionate gestures that he continued, “But I am not my father. I care about good connections and profitable business. I think if you’d let us borrow your manufacturing base in Osaka, we could supply you with Xenet to last a decade. Free of interest.”

“And what makes you think I want to have your little drug? It’s just an ecstasy pill.”

“That’s what we want you think,” you piped in, keeping your gaze averted from Satoru’s, shooting little kisses down your husband’s jaw instead. “Xenet is no ordinary drug. It was made with the intention of just making more bougee version of aphrodisiacs and poppers at first, but we found a much more…offensive approach to this,” you trailed off, eyes glistening with mischief.

It was alien – the look on you didn’t feel right. You had changed; his angel was no more.

“Xenet, once manufactured publicly, could even help us grow richer with how affordable it is. Other than the side effects of increased sexual drive and giddiness, it’s also strong enough to be a ticking time bomb,” you announced proudly, “Consume two a day and you might die from a heart attack.”

“So it’s a failed pill.”

Your eyes narrowed at his implications, reminding him that even though you may no longer be his, one thing had not changed: you were still that top student in your Chemistry class. How else could you have saved him from getting poisoned on that day? But now, you used your intelligence differently, marrying mafia leaders, creating drugs.

“I did not create failures.”

Satoru should hate it. Hell, it was wiser to steer clear from you, yet you’d never been more alluring. Your innocence and vulnerability from when you were younger had definitely aroused him in more ways than one, his mind often occupied with the different ways he could get you to cry for him. However, this version of you, the one who had risen from the ashes and flew around like a magnificent surrounded by your own burning flames – it would be a lie to say he did not find himself fascinated by your maturity.

Seven years really changed you.

“You mean to tell me,” he leaned forward, “That you’re basically asking to borrow my base so you can make suicide pills? Is that it?”

“Xenet is only dangerous when consumed in larger doses. But taken regularly, it actually boosts your health, clears your mind. It’s like a super vitamin. It makes you feel…well, on the top of the world. Makes you feel powerful.”

“Death is not the catch,” Satoru concluded from Naoya’s lilting tone, glaring at suspicious man who was staring at his drink in so much glee. He really was fucked in the head – what did you like about this guy?

“What’s your true reason behind this?”

“I want my relatives dead,” Naoya deadpanned, “Before we turned to illegal business, the clan stocks were debated to be passed either to me, or my cousin, Toji. He’s changed his name to Fushiguro now and even had a kid, but he can’t hide forever,” he lifted one shoulder in a lazy shrug, and finally, Satoru started to see glimpses of Naoya’s psychotic father through his eyes. Naoya grinned at nowhere in particular, rubbing his hand over the matching rings you wore, the sinister grin he wore uncannily similar to something Satoru had witnessed years before, though he couldn’t quite put a finger on it. “He’s not going to take what’s mine.”

Satoru scoffed, “Why do you think I would be interested in your family issues?”

“Because that cousin of mine is the only one who’s ever gotten successfully close into killing you,” Naoya snickered, “Remember? Shibuya, 2007? He was still inexperienced that time too. We don’t know how powerful he is now.”

“That fucker went after me for no reason.”

“Money is always his reason,” Naoya explained, “You see, my father was not the real clan leader. It was Toji’s father, my uncle, but he died of lung cancer and my father invited himself to the throne. He wanted everything to be ours, so he kicked my cousin out, leaving him nameless and penniless on the street. He was desperate to survive and—”

“—and became an assassin instead,” Satoru finished for him, to which both you and your husband nodded. You were taking your trophy wife duty seriously; keeping in mind to never interrupt your husband as he spoke. Satoru did his best to not pay too much mind to you, focusing on the looming threat of Toji Fushiguro present. “Let me guess, he was sent to kill me, failed miserably, and now he’s after your money? Why would he be interested in taking the mafia business when he seems fine enough being a hitman?” Satoru urged, “He looked like he enjoyed it.”

Much to Satoru’s surprise, Naoya slammed his glass down on the table, slapping his knee as he howled in laughter. “You are really as humorous as they say, Mr. Gojo.”

“Yeah? How so?”

“Because from what I heard, Toji did not fail miserably,” you mumbled through Naoya’s neck, that grin of yours mocking as your lips trailed down his skin. “The scars on your back – you almost died that day if you weren’t saved by your guards, didn’t you?”

Oh, Satoru mused, two could play this game.

“And how’d you know I have scars on my back, sweetheart?”

Knowing he had you cornered, you scowled. You turned away from him and clutched Naoya’s biceps to soothe your wounded pride, but Satoru knew he’d most definitely hit a nerve. It was low, utterly petty of him, to be exact – but he didn’t care. Right now, his determination to win you over just grows stronger, but Naoya merely chuckled at your exchange, the fucker maintaining his eye contact with Satoru’s while kissing the top of your head.

“Darling. Don’t get too worked up. He’s a friend now.”

“Said who?”

“Said me,” he announced confidently, “My cousin may be ruthless, but he’s not as heartless as I am. He’ll do anything he can to sneak his son within the family ranks and make him clan leader. Toji may be fine living in the streets, but he wouldn’t want the same fate for his son,” Naoya rolled his eyes boredly, “He loved his pathetic wife so much that he’s burdening himself with the promise of securing their child’s future. He’s not going to stop until he finds me.”

“And where do I fall into all this?”

“Toji can’t kill me,” Naoya brought to light, and Satoru noticed the faint change in your face. You looked grim, empty faced from anxiety. “Nearly 40% of our all our money – including where our gold is stored – you do remember stealing that, don’t you?” Satoru shook his head, too distracted by your sudden silence. “You made the mistake of taking what was not yours, Mr. Gojo. It may have been just a disposable slush fund to you, but everything that account had, those were all Toji’s last remnants of his wife before she died. He kept all those money for his family, and you took it away from him,” Naoya leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees, smiling through the drink he downed in one go. The sound of the glass setting down on the table was much similar to a final judgement – the dilemma hitting Satoru right in the face.

“Now unless you cooperate with us, I can’t guarantee you’ll be living for the next ten days. He’s in Tokyo right now, and from word on the streets, he’s looking for the Six Eyes.”

“I don’t have that money with me.”

“Right, because you transferred it to my wife seven years ago, right?” At his words, Satoru froze, peering at you for confirmation. However, you’d made yourself smaller, almost shaking while different memories replayed right before your eyes. Satoru wanted to come and wrap you in his arms, to tell you it’s okay because he couldn’t understand why you were trembling so much, but Naoya’s taunting felt too loud and clear. “You wouldn’t want her to die now, would you? It’s going to be a tragic story of Romeo and Juliet, two fallen lovers sharing their last breaths,” he added bitterly, “That account wasn’t activated, you fucker. Everything may be wired to her, but she can’t open it unless you complete the authentication. Now do everything I ask of you and—”

“Naoya,” you finally snapped, “Don’t.”

“Is it true?” Satoru pressed, feeling his heart crush harder in his chest. “You never got the money?”

Your face said it all. “I didn’t.” So it was all for nothing – Satoru had left everything for naught. This whole time, he thought he was doing the right thing, but it was nothing, fucking nothing, utterly useless.

He left you for no valid reason.

“Why my drug base of all places?”

“It’s the biggest running establishment. Besides, you’re a lot more influential and richer than I am. No one would dare step a foot inside while I take over the business, hm?” Naoya challenged, “Xenet’s side effects also include languidness that leads to submission. I simply want to have more control over my people.”

“You’re going to manipulate this entire fucking country.” It wasn’t a question – Satoru had really made sure this guy was fucked in the head, and he thought he was awful.

“I’m not that different from my cousin,” Naoya retorted, “We’d both do anything for money.”

“And you’re using your wife as a pawn to your sick game?”

Naoya remained unaffected by Satoru slamming his palms down on the table, standing in his full height in an attempt to intimidate him. However, your husband merely raised a brow, taunting him with a smirk. “Was I the one who caused her hell all these years by making her a target to all your rivals?”

Things escalated faster than you saw it. One moment, you were cuddled with your husband, the next, Satoru had him by the collar. Naoya refused to show the pain from when his bad knee bumped into the table, enraging the taller man with his endless goading of how Satoru threw you to the side for nothing, calling him useless, pathetic, weak. You stood in front of both of them and pushed Satoru hard enough he fell back into the seat, glaring at you from where he fell. “That’s enough!” you bellowed, protectively encasing Naoya in your arms to steady him. His grimace told you he was in a lot more pain than he let on, and you snatched his cane to the side, screaming at Satoru with so much anger it shook the walls. “Fuck you, Gojo! You need to leave!”

“You’re fucking sick,” he spat at Naoya, “You’re a thousand times worse than your old man. You’re just using her to protect yourself, you fucking coward—”

Your palm resonating with his cheek stung. Satoru was rendered silent from the burning sensation on his face, the flesh still hoarse while you shook in anger. “Don’t you fucking dare speak to him like that.”

“Why are you with this guy?”

“As opposed to being with you?” your anger thundered, “You need to leave, Satoru. I think you’ve overstayed your welcome.”

“Escort him out,” said Naoya as he caressed his knee from the couch. His voice did wonders in calming you down, those three simple words for him regulating your breathing. As if a switch had been flipped inside you, you grew demure, exchanging a thousand words with your husband in just one glance. “You and I will talk later.”

Just like that, you gripped Satoru by the arm and pushed him out the door. He would’ve been happy by your touch, but your nails dug so deep in his suit he actually hissed.

You both didn’t talk until he’s made it through the speedboat that he came in, Suguru already giving you privacy with his back turned. Not that it would change Satoru’s behaviour much because he’s weakened by you again, eyes pleading as he caught your wrist. “Angel,” he whispered, his demeanor far too pitiful for a powerful man like him. Only you – only you could make him this way. “Are you really happy with him?”

“Yes. Yes, I am,” you answered, effectively breaking Satoru for what seemed like the hundredth time that night. Because he loved you, and with loving you came knowing you – he knew there was no lie behind your statement. “I’ve had a taste of hell before, and now I’ve found bliss in my heaven.”

“You’re lying,” he tried to convince himself, shaking his head to get rid of the pathetic tears. “That’s not true, you said you loved me – that’s our promise, right? I’ll get you back, angel. I’ll protect you this time around I – I’ll do everything I wasn’t able to do before. Please. I need you back.”

“Good luck with that, Gojou,” you smiled, but nothing about is happy. In fact, you looked hopelessly, perhaps just as devastated as him. “Time is ticking. One of us is going to die soon.”

It had been three long gruesome days since that fucking cruise party. You were glad to have finally returned home – and yes, you did have a happy home now – but it just felt different when the spot beside you was empty.

You flopped down on your king-sized bed, legs kicking up in the air as you talked to Naoya through the phone. He had business to attend to overseas, leaving you all alone in the Zen’in Estate because he was going someplace dangerous. Though you assured him you could handle yourself just fine, your husband wasn’t having any of it. He shut you up with a kiss and left not long afterwards, so now you had to settle for hearing his voice.

“Have you arrived?”

“Yeah, plane just landed,” his voice that turned gentle only for you crackled through the other line, sounds of shuffling and clinking heard before he spoke again. “Are you in bed already?”

“Hm.”

“Bet you look so fucking pretty right now,” he teased, “You gonna touch yourself at the thought of me while I’m gone, princess?”

“You know my fingers could never compare to your cock.”

“You’re so dirty,” he chuckled back, and your laughter mingled. It was so easy to laugh with him through mindless conversations to kill the time; the two of you acting like the world around you wasn’t burning. “When I get back from Shanghai, I’ll fuck you so hard you won’t be able to walk.”

“If you do that, I won’t be able to hang off your arm prettily in your events.”

“We can always cancel them, princess. I don’t mind spending the entire weekend in bed with you.”

“Naoya, stop,” you buried your face in the pillows, giggling like a schoolgirl while your husband chuckled. You could hear him ordering his favourite drink to the stewardess and for a moment, you grew jealous, thinking that maybe his servants would be pretty. Then, you remembered – Naoya hated every human being in this world with your exception – you had nothing to worry about.

“You like it when I talk to you this way,” he mused, and you made no move to deny. “So about our anniversary—”

You lifted your head from the pillow as you heard the bell ringing, which was odd because it was half past midnight already. Most of the servants had long retired into their quarters right now, the entire estate on heavy lockdown too. The only person who could arrive was probably a special parcel, and you eagerly hopped off the bed, tying your silk nightgown to make yourself modest. “Oh, hey, I think my package arrived. Someone’s ringing.”

“Is it the Louboutin I got you?”

“I hope so!”

“Have fun dressing up then,” you could hear Naoya’s smile, “Send me photos okay? No undies.”

“No undies!” you agreed, swiping end call before you rushed to the front doors. Gosh, one of the worst things about living in a manor was that you had to take three flights of steps down, the lights in the servants’ wing already turned off so you had to open it yourself. “I’m coming!”

Taking a few seconds to compose yourself, you swung the door open, ready to finally get the shoes you’ve been gushing to Naoya about for days. But you were met with nothing but a tuft of white hair, blood smattered on his cheeks, and lips crashing down onto yours. Satoru pinned you against the wall in the same manner he held you on that day he left, his kisses harsh and longing while you moaned into his mouth, legs turning into jelly.

“Angel,” he rasped into your mouth, grinding his boner to the thin material of your night gown. “I told you you’re fucking mine.”

taglist OPEN: @sixeyesgojo @shingekiyofeels @q-the-rockaholic @whatthefuckisthatthing @friedghostspyathlete @rogueofbullshit @kat-su-ki @kellyyween @sebootyforlife @greysoulthings @charlie-xo @aoi-turtle @ladywaifuuwrites @savantsoulfinder @my-reality-is-in-my-head @hannya-quinn​ 

ALSO GUYS!!! THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE ANON WHO MADE THIS NAOYA X READER DOODLE IM CRYING SO MUCHHHH I LOVE IT SO MUCH I AM LEGIT SPEECHLESS LIKE YOU GUYS? ARE? AMAZING?! ANYWAYS I FINALLY FINISHED THE ENTIRE PLOT OF THIS SERIES AND WELL...I mean, I hope you guys are excited for this as I am, hehehe!! I take back my former note that this was going to be angsty. I think this is more of drama tbh but we’ll see how it goes! (side note...IM IN LOVE WITH THIS FANART PLEASE.)

[badassbuchanan]

Our Secret

Plot: Bucky and Y/N Stark take their secret relationship to the next level and make the most of their alone time

Warnings: smut; oral (male receiving), secret relationship, dirty talk, metal-arm!kink, stark reader, semi-public place, short and sweet.

a/n: hello this is my first post, I’m new. Requests are open, so pop in and let me make your dreams come true!

“There you are.” I smiled with a sigh of relief, flopping down on the couch next to the unexplainably handsome, long haired super soldier. I’d spent the better half of ten minutes searching the compound for my secret lover.

I immediately turned to face him, cupping his stubble covered jaw in my hand as I pressed my lips against his, something that was usually only done in our private rooms.

Bucky’s hand flew to my hip, his eyebrows raising in surprise as he pulled away from the kiss slightly, his head turning to scan the room. “What are you playing at?” His voice came out as a whisper as his eyes met mine. I couldn’t help but let out a giggle at how much he was stressing. “Anyone could walk in and catch us.”

“Mmh mmh.” I shook my head and licked my lips as I inched closer to him seductively. My hand came up to play with his hair, my thigh intentionally placed over his knee. “We’re all alone.”

Bucky’s face almost instantly dropped into a smile, his eyes widening a little with excitement as his hand gripped my hip tighter. “Oh really?” He smirked, his eyes dropping to my lips as he mirrored my actions, moving closer.

I chuckled at his excitement and inched closer to him once again, practically sitting on his lap. “Really.” I confirmed, our noses brushing together and our breaths hot on each other’s lips.

Bucky’s hands slid around to my butt, rubbing up my lower back onto the material of my workout top. He let a little moan slip passed his lips as I tilted my head, arching my back into his touch as our chests pressed together.

“Well what should we do with all this time alone?” Bucky asked, his voice deep and husky as he licked his lips. I could feel his hardening cock against my thigh, my body shivering at the feeling of his metal fingers against my hot skin.

“I have an idea.” I smiled cheekily, my hand palming his chest soothingly over the thin material of his tshirt. I could feel every muscle, every indent in his skin and it only made me crave more of him. For so long I’d wanted to be alone with Bucky, and I’d spent many nights in bed with my thoughts planning exactly what to do when the opportunity arose.

Before he could even ask what my idea was, I pressed my lips against his. Bucky immediately pulled me onto his lap, relaxing into the sofa as he opened his mouth, his tongue nudging my lips apart.

I moaned softly, unable to stop myself from grinding down onto his crotch. I willingly let his tongue play with mine, his hands travelling back down to my ass to squeeze. I could already feel the size of him through the thick material of his jeans and I was eager to finally get what I wanted.

Bucky groaned at the feeling, biting his lip as he pulled me down against his crotch again. My arms wrapped around his neck as I leaned down for another kiss, working my hips into a rhythm with the help of his hands. “Fuck.”

“Language.” I stopped my movements momentarily, raising my eyebrows as Bucky rolled his eyes with a subtle smile, obviously not too impressed with my choice of timing to mock his best friend.

He let his head rest against the back of the sofa, which gave me the perfect opportunity to slide down between his legs and onto the floor in front of him, a mischevious smile on my face.

Bucky arched his eyebrow as he watched me intensely, quickly catching on to what my idea was. I bit my lip, running my hands up and down his thighs as I sat up on my knees.

I let my fingers dance over his jeans before giving his growing buldge a squeeze which caused Bucky’s hips to thrust up to meet my touch. I could feel my arousal dripping onto my panties as I touched him.

Bucky’s eyes didn’t leave mine as I skilfully undid his belt, moving straight to the button of his jeans and quickly working on the zipper.

I knelt up further between his thighs, lifting up the bottom of his shirt to reveal his abs. I let my lips kiss ticklishly over the newly exposed skin as my hand moved inside his open jeans and passed his underwear.

“I want you in my mouth, Buck.” I told him with a sultry tone, not missing the jolt of his hips as my hand finally reached his bare, hard cock.

The furthest we’d ever gone was dry humping. Maybe a little under the bra boob action but never anything like this. We never had enough alone time. Too many people in the compound meant it was easy for people to get suspicious.

I wrapped my small hand around his thick length, pulling him free from the restraining material as my lips reached his pelvis. I smiled against his skin, a little drop of drool forming in the corner of my mouth as my hand ran up his length. I couldn’t wait to taste him.

“You’re so big.” I whimpered softly, finally lifting my head to look at his cock. My jaw went slack as I took in the beauty of his member. The throbbing red tip that was leaking with pre-cum, his thick shaft with a pulsing vein and soft skin. It was all too much to take in. I couldn’t stop myself from leaning down and kitten licking his tip.

Bucky grunted when he felt my hot tongue on his cock, fisting at the sofa to stop his hands from grabbing my head and forcing me down his length. His abs clenched as my lips wrapped around his tip, tongue swirling around to collect all of his pre-cum.

“What would your daddy say if he could see you now, baby?” Bucky moaned out with a satisfied smirk on his face. Did my dad like Bucky? Not exactly. Did Bucky like my dad? Not really. Did my dad trust Steve enough to let Bucky join the avengers? Reluctantly, yes. Did I get a thrill knowing that my father, Mr Tony Stark, Mr I-Always-Get-My-Way, would never approve of me and Bucky? Oh, you betcha.

It was one of the biggest reasons we had to sneak around, that and the fact that we both got a thrill out of knowing we had a secret that no one else knew.

I moaned around his tip as a response, causing vibrations through his cock which made his hand come up to rest on the back of my head. He tugged me further down his length gently, which I happily complied with.

I relaxed my throat, my spit coating his length as I took more of him in my mouth. I rested my hands on his thick thighs, his muscles tensing as I started to bob my head up and down.

“Oh fuck,” Bucky groaned, breathing heavily as his head flew back against the sofa. His jaw dropped open, letting his moans flow freely as we were home alone. “Your pretty little mouth feels so good.”

I continued to bob my head, drool dripping down onto his balls as I slid my lips down until his tip hit the back of my throat. A grunt came from him, his jaw clenching as he gripped the back of my head tighter.

The pool of arousal between my thighs was growing with every second, a visible wet patch on the light colour of my tights. As much as I wanted Bucky to push my down onto the sofa and pound my aching pussy, this was about pleasing him.

I lifted my mouth off of him, catching my breath as my tongue glided down his length, paying close attention to the protruding vein. “Bucky,” I dragged his name out with a whine, my tongue running over his neatly groomed balls before sucking on them gently. “I want you to fuck my mouth.”

Bucky let out a low, animalistic noise as I looked up at his blown out pupils, an innocent look on my face as I moved my lips back up to his tip, opening my mouth so all he had to do was angle his hips and start thrusting.

“You sure about this?” He looked for confirmation and grabbed hold of his length with his flesh hand, the metal one still firmly on the back of my head as I nodded in response and looked up at him in anticipation.

I dug my nails into his thighs as he guided his tip to rub over my lips and tongue, leaving no part untouched. I sighed out in contentment of the attention, closing my eyes as I got lost in the bliss of the moment.

“I love your cock, Buck.” I hummed before taking his tip into my hot mouth, sucking it like a popsicle. He tasted sweet yet so manly. I wanted to keep his velvety length in my mouth forever.

“It’s all yours, doll.” Bucky replied sweetly, the pet name sent tingles between my thighs. He tested the waters, thrusting up into my mouth. I moaned around his cock, my lips running up and down the length as he pulled out almost fully before thrusting back in. “Just let me know if it gets too much.”

I nodded once again, closing my eyes as I tried to relax my throat around his thick length. My nails left marks on his thighs, letting my jaw go slack as he picked up his pace.

Bucky’s balls slapped against my chin with each hard thrust, his hips coming off the sofa to meet the controlled movements of my head. His moans echoed through the room, his eyes fixed on the way my mouth took his length.

I let my tongue lay flat against his shaft, gliding up and down with every thrust. Bucky scrunched his nose as he watched me swallow his cock, now fully fucking my mouth as if it were my pussy.

“You gunna swallow my cum, doll?” Bucky grunted through heavy breathes, a soft slapping sound filling the room from his thrusts.

I moaned around his length in response, his cock twitching in my mouth. His filthy words were turning me on so much I could feel my pussy clenching around nothing, my thighs pressed together to try and find some sort of relief.

I started to move my head down on him harder, meeting his thrusts as I cupped his balls in my hand. I massaged them with my fingers, eager to feel his cum spurt down my throat.

Bucky rubbed his metal thumb over my cheek bone lovingly, his eyes still fixated on my every move. I bravely looked back up at him, whimpering with every jolt of his hips.

I wanted to keep him in my mouth forever, high off of the feeling of pleasing him so much. I moved my hands off of him, letting him take full control as he fucked my mouth.

I lifted my tight top up, letting my tits bounce freely in the cold air of the compound. Bucky moaned, watching my boobs move in time with his thrusts, hard nipples on display for him.

“Fuck.” Bucky panted loudly as I felt him twitch against my tongue. My tongue swirled around his shaft, trying to reach every inch of his cock.

He moved both hands to my cheeks, cupping the sides of my face as he forced me to look up at him as he pounded into me. I closed my eyes as I tried to hold off my gag reflex at the feeling of his tip ramming the back of my throat.

“I’m gunna cum.” He said in an almost panicked tone, both of us not ready for this to be over. But I knew he was close by the sudden lack of rhythm in his thrusts. “Oh, fuck I’m gunna cum.”

I looked up at him through my eyelashes seductively, inhaling deeply through my nose, my heart pounding in my chest as I pushed myself up on my knees. My action caused my head to slide down his cock, fully engulfing him in my mouth as my hands grabbed ahold of this thighs.

I moaned when my nose touched his lower stomach, deepthroating his length as Bucky’s hands flew to the back of my head.

He held me there as his hips bucked erratically, a loud moan errupting from his throat as spurts of hot cum filled my mouth.

Bucky panted through his orgasm as I swallowed every single drop of his sweet nectar. I rubbed his thighs soothingly, lifting my head off of his length slowly as he came down from his high.

His hands dropped from my head, his muscles relaxing as I pulled my top back down, climbing back up onto the sofa next to him.

“Feel good?” I asked softly, a pleasant smile on my face as I rubbed over his metal bicep. I admired his afterglow look as I rested my head on the sofa, hair messy, cheeks pink, pupils blown. He was a sight for sore eyes.

Bucky tucked himself back into his pants, turning his head lazily to face me, the dorkiest smile on his face as he leaned in to peck my lips. “So good.” He mumbled between kisses, his flesh hand gripping my thigh closest to him. “How about I repay the favour?”

I giggled softly as his hand ran up the inside of my thigh, inches away from where I needed him the most. I wrapped my arm around his neck, pulling him closer as I gave him a quick kiss.

Just as Bucky was about to reach the waistband of my leggings, a voice sounded from down the hall. “We’re back!” Peter damn Parker called out, the others close behind him.

“Shit.” I whispered in a panic, the sudden tranquility of our alone time vanished at the sound of Peter’s voice. It was like being pulled back to reality from an amazing dream.

Bucky and I quickly pulled away from each other with a sigh, trying to make ourselves look presentable as we turned back to the tv that had been forgotten about long ago.

Our time alone together was up, but that didn’t stop the ache between my thighs, so needy after finally getting to see and touch his gorgeous cock. It would keep me up every night knowing that he was just down the hall, so close yet so out of reach, his cock so ready to satisfy me. But not able to do so until we could be alone again. Who knows how long that will be.

“Hey kiddo.” My father patted my shoulder as most of the team walked into the room, all in their own conversations. “Sorry you got left with old cyborg over here. Hope he didn’t freak you out too much.”

“It’s okay dad,” I called back to Tony who had already gotten half way across the room. “He’s no more of a freak than I am.” I smiled cheekily at Bucky who scoffed in response, a proud smirk on his face at the secret that only we would ever know.

[babybluebex]

of pubs and profs [tom holland smut]

➽ pairing: prof!tom holland x fem!reader (y/n) ➽ word count: 4.7k ➽ summary: you have what you consider the best night of your life, but discover that it was with the worst person possible. ➽ warnings: NSFW/MDNI. smut, explicit language, fingering/oral (f recieving), unprotected sex (i am begging yall to wear a condom irl) ➽ a/n: alright so... don’t fool around with your teacher pls. live vicariously thru y/n :) 

He seemed so out of place here. For one thing, a bar like this was hardly known for much good happening, and this man exuded good. He seemed fit, even as he sat at the bar, his face sharp, full of angles that would have been glorious to sketch, and he had caramel-amber hair that curled around his ears and the nape of his neck. He wore a dark blue turtleneck and slacks, a watch with a leather band around his left wrist. 

“You’re staring.” 

I jumped. I had forgotten that I was mid-conversation. “Huh?”

Zendaya scoffed. “You’re staring at that guy,” she said. “Like, staring super hard. Do you know him?” 

“No,” I mumbled. “He’s just…” I trailed off for a moment, then attempted to save face by taking a sip of my drink. “I like the look of him. Ya know?” 

Zendaya scoffed at me. “I like the look of him too, but you’re on something else here.” There was a pause between the two of us, and Zen’s mouth split into a smile. “Five bucks.” 

“For what?” I asked. 

“You can’t get his number,” Zen said. “I’ll give you five whole dollars if you get his phone number.”

“You don’t have five dollars,” I said playfully, with narrowed eyes. “You don’t even have two coins to rub together.”

“Right, and who bought your drink?” Zen asked. “C’mon, you need to put yourself out there. Ever since you and Jacob broke up, it’s been nothing but… Sad. Your room’s a cave, Y/N. Will you do this for me?” 

I cast a glance at the guy once more, and I sighed. “Why not?” I mumbled under my breath. “But I had better get that fucking money, or I’ll take away your apartment privileges.” 

“I pay half of the rent, fuck you,” Zen laughed. “Go. Go!” 

“I am!” I giggled, and I slid myself out of the booth. The pub was bustling with nightly business, and I edged my way past a group of girls to find a place at the bar. My plan of attack was to order a drink and strike up a conversation with this guy, and grab his phone number before I left. Lucky for me, there was an empty space next to him, and I leaned against the bar with my forearms. 

“Oh, hey, good lookin’!” the bartender, Jake, exclaimed. He was a close friend of mine, hence why I always chose to drink at this particular bar. Our freshman year, he lived in the room across the hall from me, and we frequented each other for screwdrivers (of both varieties) all year. Since then, we continued to grow close. “What’s cooking?”

“Not a lot, Gyllenhaal,” I replied, and our hands met in a quick dap. “Lemme get a rum and Coke.”

“Sure thing,” Jake said. “Gimme two minutes. We’ve got a bachelorette party in the back.” 

“No problem,” I replied, and I watched Jake slide to the other side of the bar. 

The game was now on. I looked over my shoulder to Zendaya briefly, just for long enough to gauge that she was laughing at me, and I cast her a look before turning back. Then, I looked back over my other shoulder, the one closest to the guy, and I caught sight of a book he had. “What’re you reading there?” 

He looked up at me with big brown eyes, and my breath caught in my chest. From far away, he was hot but, up close, he was totally something else. He had strands of ginger in his dark hair, and his fingers closed the book in order to look at the cover, like he himself wasn’t sure of what he was reading. “Chaos Walking,” he answered, and my eyes widened. His voice was gorgeous, pitched low, accented with a London attitude. “My mate told me I’d like it.”

“Don’t think I’ve read that,” I said, narrowing my eyes. “What’s it about?” 

“Well,” he began and laughed lightly. “A lot. Basically, though, it follows a boy who lives in a world with no girls, where you can hear others thoughts, and he meets a girl. It’s sci-fi and… I dunno.” 

“Is it a good read?” I asked. “You seem like you enjoy it.” The book was battered, the paper cover torn and creased, with the spine broken. It was a book that was well-loved, and I liked how his entire being seemed to reflect the book. 

“Oh, I love it,” he said with a smile. “It’s so fun, ya know? The entirety of the story is incredible.” Then, a beat passed, and he added, “I’m Tom.” 

“Well, hi,” I said and gave him a warm smile. “I’m Y/N. No offense, but this sorta place doesn’t seem like your vibe.” 

Tom gave the front of the book a firm pat. “It’s not,” he said. “I was waiting on a friend but he doesn’t seem like he’ll be joining me tonight.”

“I didn’t think so,” I said, wrinkling my nose. “You seem like a coffee shop kinda guy.”

“You don’t quite seem like the sort to be here either,” Tom told me. 

“How do you mean?”

“You don’t belong in a pub like this, I just know it,” Tom told me. “You’d be better suited somewhere else.” 

I shrugged. “I usually don’t leave my apartment to drink,” I said. “But I’m friends with the bartender and I visit every so often just to say hi.” A moment passed. “Wait, back up. Where would I be better suited?” 

Tom smiled, but it seemed more hesitant than before. “At the risk of being bold,” he started. “My flat.” 

“Jesus!” I breathed, and my face went hot. 

“I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “That was-- I’m so sorry--”

“No, no!” I said quickly. “No, it’s not a problem, I promise. That was bold, Tom, but I don’t mind it. As a matter of fact, I think you might be right.” 

“Glad we agree,” Tom said. “D’you wanna get out of here now?” 

“Sure thing,” I said. My skin prickled at the thought of him against me, and I laid a gentle hand on his arm. “Let me get my bag.” 

When I approached the booth, Zendaya stuck her tongue at me. “You lost,” she said. 

“Did I?” I asked, pulling my bag onto my shoulder. “Or am I going home with him?” 

“Shut up,” Zen laughed. “That was quick as hell.” 

“That tends to happen,” I shrugged. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a meeting with Tom.” 

“I hate you,” I heard Zen mutter as I turned away from her. 

Tom’s apartment--his flat, as he called it--was just a short cab ride from the bar, and I had hardly passed through the front door before his hands were pressing into my waist and his mouth was on mine. In an instant, I had melted into him, and my hands tangled in the bottom of his shirt. His mouth tasted like whiskey, which felt totally in-character for him, and he carefully nipped at my bottom lip. 

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” Tom whispered, and he pushed my hair from my neck in order to brush his lips against my throat. No guys in my past had ever told me that in such clear terms, and my entire body ran hot at his words. A shiver ran down my spine, and he huffed a laugh into my neck. “Do you like when I say that?”

“I just like the way you talk,” I admitted. “Could listen forever.” 

“That’s an awfully long time,” Tom told me warmly. His slender fingers inched under my shirt to touch my bare skin, and he slid his hands to lay flat against the small of my back. His kisses lingered on my neck, and the feeling of his soft skin was so lovely. “Let’s start with tonight.” 

“I can manage that,” I laughed. “Bed?” 

As soon as I was down in his bed, Tom was working my shirt off. His hands were so strong and sure against me, and I had no hesitations in letting him do whatever he pleased. His kisses trailed down to my stomach and chest once they were bare to him, and the feel of his mouth on my hip made me take a fistful of those pretty brown waves of his. He just laughed and continued his pursuit downwards, and he rid me of my jeans and panties before pausing and looking up at me. “Is this alright?” He asked. 

“Yeah,” I said. “Just… Yeah.”

“Good girl,” Tom whispered, and I swore I died right there. He took my leg in his strong grip and kissed my inner thigh, and he placed the softest kiss to my quivering cunt. I immediately knew that I was in good hands, and I let my body relax and submit to Tom. His shoulders nudged my legs open further as he pressed his warm tongue to my wetness, and I bit back a moan as I tried to keep my legs from closing. I was already shaking, which was honestly embarrassing, but Tom didn’t seem to mind. In fact, it seemed to encourage him, because he placed a series of sloppy kisses to my throbbing clit that made me squeal. Then, his mouth went straight to where I was leaking, and an obscene slurping filled the air. Fuck, he was good. 

“Oh my God,” I whispered, and his fingers quickly joined his tongue. First one, then two, then his thumb met my clit, and I whimpered. “Oh, fuck, oh my God.” 

“No need to call me that,” Tom whispered. His breath was hot against my wet cunt, his voice raspy, and I couldn’t help the fluttering that enveloped his fingers. “Just my name will do for now.”

The combination of his fingers and mouth made my stomach quiver, and I knew that it wouldn’t be long before I came. I had never come just from being eaten out, and my heart raged against my ribcage when I dared to imagine what came next. His thumb moved slowly around my clit, and his mouth replaced it as his fingers moved in me deliciously. His tongue, so skilled and quick, took up his thumb’s previous job, and he took the throbbing bud into his mouth and quickly nipped it with his teeth at the same moment that his fingertips found home inside me. 

There was no hope of obscuring my moan. “Fuck!” I yelped, writhing in his grip. “T-Tom, fuck.”

“Do you wanna come?” Tom whispered, looking at me through his eyelashes. “Use your words, my darling, please.” 

“Please, please,” I gasped. My head fell back to expose my neck, and I squeezed my eyes shut. My breathing was ragged, and a shock of electricity raced through my whole body when he laughed into my cunt. 

“Such a needy girl,” Tom chuckled. “You don’t have to ask. Whenever you’re ready, just let me know.” 

He lapped at my wet cunt, tasting me like he had dreamt of this, and my hand went from his hair to his shoulder. His waves and curls fell into his eyes, but he kept at his work, even when I pushed at his shoulder. “Tommy,” I whimpered out helplessly. “I-I’m gonna-- You--”

“My darling,” Tom said. “I want you to come on my tongue. Let me taste you, babygirl. Come for me.” 

My bottom lip was bitten nearly raw, and it only became worse when he said that. I nearly tasted blood as he gave my cunt one last kiss, so much more gentle than what he had been doing before, and my hips stuttered as hot pleasure pulsed through every part of me. I grabbed handfuls of his shirt and tugged him close, and he came to lay with his hips between my legs. My vision was blurry with tears as I studied him, oh so close to me now, and I felt a tiny pride at his pink cheeks and glistening lips. That was all me. “Oh, thank you,” I whispered, and he sweetly kissed each of my cheeks. “That was so good.” 

“I’m glad,” Tom said. “Secretly, I pride myself in being able to do that.” 

“You should be proud of that,” I huffed. “Also… ‘my god’?” 

“That was in jest,” Tom began with a light laugh. 

“I know,” I said. My hands trailed up his back, hiking his shirt up to his shoulders, and he helped me in tugging it off. He shook his hair out once it passed his head, and I added, “It’s a fitting name, though.” 

“Really?” He asked, bracing himself above me. “Am I a god, Y/N?”

“Close to it,” I told him. I noticed the way that my hands were trembling as I went to his belt, and he must have noticed as well, because his hands went to my wrists. His hands fit all the way around my wrists easily. It wasn’t rough or dominating by any means; his hands slid up from my wrists to grasp my hands, fingers interlocking with mine as he pressed my hands down beside my head. 

“Take a deep breath, my darling,” Tom told me gently. His thumb made comforting circles on my hand, and my stomach went all fluttery at how serene it was. “You’re shaking so hard. Do we need to stop?” 

“No,” I told him. “I’m alright. I promise.” 

“Alright,” Tom said. “Let me know if we need to stop.” 

I nodded quickly, reaching for a handful of his hair, and I tugged him down to kiss me. I could taste myself on his mouth and, normally, that would have irked me, but with Tom, it only made my thighs tense and warmth spread through my body. My skin rippled at each touch of his fingers, and I let out little mumblings of his name as he kissed my neck and shoulders. 

A surge of boldness ran up my spine, and I moved my hands from where he had placed them back down to his belt. As it seemed was the norm, he was two steps ahead of me, because he was already in the process of leaning back and pulling off his pants. The bedroom was cast only in the soft light of the lamp beside the bed, but I still captured every freckle, hair, and ridge on Tom’s firm chest and stomach. He was the definition of the skinny white guy that had good dick. Or, at least, he gave good head. But someone that good at giving head had to be as skilled elsewhere, right? 

He was back on me in an instant, kissing my neck and making little marks on my skin as I shoved his pants down his thighs. Tom’s hands captured my legs and drew them around his naked waist, and I gasped aloud when I felt his hard cock brush against my cunt, already throbbing once more. In fear of seeming dumb, I didn’t intentionally look, but I could feel the weight of his cock against my body, and I stuttered, “God, Tommy..” 

“That impressive, huh?” Tom laughed.  

“Of course,” I remarked. “What, have you never been told you have a big cock before?”

Tom lifted his head from my neck, and I let out a giggle at his blown-wide pupils and red cheeks. “Where the hell have you been all my life?” He asked with a smile. He laughed, and I noticed the way that wrinkles formed right by his eyes with the extremity of his smile. That was adorable as hell. “You’re gorgeous and so funny, and you’re complimenting me like this? You’re perfect.” 

“I’ve just been waiting for you, I guess,” I shrugged and ran my hands over his built arms, rock solid like a statue. 

“Sorry it took me so long to find you,” Tom smiled. “Traffic was a bitch.” 

I laughed, my head falling back onto the pillows, and Tom situated the head of his cock at my folds. At the feel of it, I gasped, and he swallowed my gasp with a kiss. “Let me know if we need to stop,” he reminded me, kissing my chin gently. 

“I’m fine,” I told him, even though I was shaking so fiercely. Tom sank himself into me, and the deep rumble of his moan made my back arch up against him. “Fuck, darling,” he mumbled. “Cunt’s so tight… Squeezing the hell outta me.” His fingers dug into my hip, surely leaving bruises to later admire, and he snapped his hips forward so that he was fully in me. 

“More,” I whispered. I wasn’t sure what I wanted more of; I just knew that I wanted more of whatever he ended up giving me. 

My whole body thrummed with blood and life as he fucked me, pausing to pant into my neck and kiss my mouth. His back was taut with hard muscles and I raked my fingers down to his waist and back up to his hair. A curl had escaped the rest of his hair and bounced against my forehead with each thrust, and Tom and I each huffed out a laugh at it. Silently, I reached up and twisted the perfect curl around my finger, and Tom gave me another eye-wrinkling smile.

“F-Fuck, darling,” Tom muttered, and I could tell by his stuttering that he was close. The rhythm of his hips had slowed, but his grip on my waist and legs was as tight as ever. “So fuckin good for me, God.” 

“I’m getting close again, Tommy,” I told him, my voice shaking. I’m sure he already knew, what with the way my chest was hot and my breathing was erratic, but I still wanted to see the look on his face when I said it.

“Oh, me too, my darling,” Tom whispered. His hand fell from its place at my hip and came to rest on my stomach, just above the point where he had himself buried inside me, and his thumb-- that damned thumb of his-- slid down until he was playing with my clit once more. There was an urgency this time, though, his movements quicker and messier. With each thrust, his own belly quivered, and I desperately pulled at his hair. I needed him to come first. I needed to feel him spill himself inside of me. I needed to feel his cum leak out of me, to hear him laugh at the mess we made like I knew he would. I needed so much. I just needed him.

“Tommy,” I whimpered, keening into his touch. “Fuck, Tom--”

His lips crashed into mine, and that was all it took. My legs shook around his waist, and my vision went white-hot for a moment. His thrusts were messy, his waves and curls completely undone and hanging in his eyes, and he watched with a greedy gaze as I writhed under him. I pulled his head down into my neck and he resumed his work of nipping my skin and soothing the sting with his tongue, and I kissed the shell of his ear. “Oh, Tom,” I whispered, just loud enough for him to hear over the sounds of our shared gasps. “Please, for me?” 

He pulled himself from me and was spilling in an instant, covering my waist and stomach in his warm cum. He settled himself on his elbows above me once again, and I took care to brush those waves off of his forehead. His hair had gone super curly with the little bit of sweat on his forehead, and I bit the tip of my tongue. “Yeah?” I whispered. 

“Yeah,” Tom agreed. “Let me get you a towel. Stay right there.”

“Wasn’t really planning on going anywhere, honestly,” I laughed. 

When he returned, he was wearing a pair of boxers and a t-shirt that hugged his muscled frame. He sat beside me and carefully wiped me clean with the wet corner of a towel, and he placed a sweet kiss on my forehead. “Are you feeling alright?” Tom asked. “Can I get you anything?” 

“I’m fine,” I told him. “Thanks, though.”

“No worries,” Tom told me. “You’re welcome to stay the night, if you’d like. I must warn you, though, that I like to cuddle.” 

“I would have expected nothing less,” I told him. I sat up, testing my legs for a moment, and my cheeks went hot. “Umm… I don’t think I can walk.” 

Tom’s eyes went big for a moment, and he reached for me with a hesitant hand. “Are you kidding?” He asked. 

“My legs are shaking too hard,” I whispered and bit my lip. 

“Oh, my darling, I’m so sorry,” Tom told me, his eyebrows pitching up. “I truly didn’t mean to hurt you--”

“You didn’t,” I said quickly. “It’s… This is a good thing. I promise.” 

There was a brief exchange that ended with Tom giving me a shirt to sleep in and me promising him that I won’t try to walk until my legs quit shaking. We found each other again once in bed, my head fitting snugly under his chin, and his fingernails lightly scratched up and down my back. The feel of his strong arms around me, holding me in such a protective way, lulled me to sleep. 

The night passed under a thin veil of dreams. All too soon, an alarm began to blare, scaring me fully awake in a second. From the darkness, there was a groan of displeasure, and a grunt as the bed squeaked and shifted, and the alarm was turned off with a solid stab of a finger. “Sorry, darling,” Tom whispered. “I forgot I have an early morning today.” 

“You’re fine,” I whispered. The lamp turned on, and I was met with Tom, his hair messy and frizzy, his face flushed with good sleep. I stretched my arms above my head, allowing a quick squeal, and I said, “I should probably be heading out soon too. I have an eight AM.”

“Ugh,” Tom groaned. “I hate those.” 

“Right,” I agreed. “Who wants to learn at eight in the morning?”

“The poor instructor,” Tom laughed. His voice was lower than before, scratchy as well, and my chest warmed at the sound. He fixed his hair out of his face, and he turned to see me, still wrapped up in his shirt and blankets. “You look cozy.” 

“I am,” I said softly. “Wish I could stay for just a little longer.” 

“Pursuit of knowledge is an honorable one, though, darling,” Tom told me. “Would you like to shower first?” 

“No,” I said. “I have to go by my apartment to get my stuff and change clothes anyway, I’ll just shower there.” 

“Alright,” Tom nodded. He reached for me and I met him halfway, brushing my lips to his in a soft kiss, and he gave me a light laugh. “I need to get your phone number. I’d love to do this again.” 

“I’d like that too,” I said. I gave him a parting kiss, then worked myself from the bed. I stretched once more, feeling my back pop, and I found my bag by the door to the bedroom. I gave Tom my phone, open to a new contact listing, and he gave a mischievous smile before plugging in his information. “What’s that smile all about?” 

At the top of my screen, it read Big Dick Tom. 

“Oh, God,” I laughed. “That’s really gone to your head, hasn’t it?” 

“You’re the one who told me that,” Tom argued. “And, if someone tells you that you have a big dick, you take that shit to heart.” 

“Sure, sure,” I said quickly. “I’ll text you; maybe we can get dinner this weekend?”

Tom gave me a smile that was fit for a king. “Of course, my darling girl.” 

Tom ended up sending me home with the shirt I had slept in. It was for some carpentry school in Wales, but it was soft and smelled like Tom, so I didn’t really mind the odd reference. Just before I left, he had swept me up in his arms and kissed me, and he pressed his forehead to mine. “This might be premature,” he whispered. “But do you wanna be my girlfriend?” 

Zendaya slapped a five dollar bill in my hand when I entered the apartment. “Did you have a good time?” she asked.

“The best,” I told her. “He’s super sweet and a great time, and he asked me to be his girlfriend.”

“You said yes, right?” Zen asked.

“Duh,” I scoffed. “A hot Brit who likes me? I’m not letting that go.”

“Right,” Zen said, and the smile dropped from her face. “Well, while you were off getting dick from your new man, our literature professor dipped.” 

“What?” I asked. 

“Yeah,” Zen said, spinning her laptop to face me. She had an email pulled up from the head of the department, declaring that our professor, our beloved Dr. Osterfield, would not be teaching the course any longer. Buried in the text of the email, it said the name of the replacement professor: Dr. Holland. “I tried to look this guy up, but he’s not on Rate My Professor or anything.” 

“It’s halfway through the fuckin’ semester,” I groaned. “This blows.” 

“I just hope this new guy’s easy,” Zen groaned. “I can’t deal with a hard class right now.” 

The class was still held in the same room as before, and the general air was worse than a normal eight AM. At least, with Dr. O, he had an infectious energy that woke us all up. Nobody knew what to expect with this new guy. I hoped that, for my sake, he was cool. 

The door to the classroom opened, and a man said, “I apologize for the wait. It’s just my luck that I’d be late today…” 

My whole body went cold and my heart stopped. Tom. My boyfriend, my fucking Tom stood at the front of the small lecture hall, wearing the jeans and white buttoned shirt that I had helped pick out. “Well, this is a strange thing, isn’t it?” Tom chuckled, clasping his hands together. “I’ll explain, don’t worry. But first, I think maybe an introduction is in order.” 

He unwound his bag from his shoulder and opened it for a moment, and a whole new wave of dread washed over me. While he was in the shower, I had written him a quick note and stuck it in his bag. It was nothing more than “thanks, love. hope to see you soon xx”, but a smile split his face wide. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “Apparently, my girlfriend left me a little note. Hmm! Anyway, I’m Dr. Holland. Call me that, or Tom, or any variation of the above. I promise you, I’ve heard it all.” 

Tom settled himself on the edge of his desk and he fluffed up his hair a bit. It was then that a quiet wave of titters passed through every girl in the hall; a hickey. It was small, but it was there, right under his ear. “I went to school in London, where I’m from, before I got a degree in English literature from Cambridge. Then, I came to the States and managed to get my doctorate in it, and, who’d have guessed it, this is my first teaching job. Go easy on me, huh?.” My little note, written on a sticky note, was clasped in his hand, and I seriously wanted to die right then and there. My professor. I was stupid. Of course the stars had aligned (or misaligned?) to allow this to happen. And just when I thought I found the right guy, too. 

“Right,” Tom said. “Let’s look at the attendance, see what we’re working with, and I’ll let you guys fill me in on what Dr. Osterfield was covering.” 

The closer he got to my name, the colder my face went. I hated every single moment of it. “And… Y/L/N? Y/N?” 

I quietly raised my hand, then managed a meek, “Here.” 

His eyes trained on me, and I watched the same recognition flood his eyes. Quickly, though, Dr. Tom Holland averted his gaze back down to his computer, and he said, “There you are, Y/N… Can I see you after class?” 

[the-insomniac-emporium]

Wounded Love Pt. 2 (Lady Dimitrescu/F!Reader)

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T? Maybe? Almost the exact opposite of the first one. Language, minor violence Genre: Fluff, mainly, with admittedly a little bit of humor? I blame my lack of sleep. And my adhd. Warnings: Implied cannibalism adjacent activities because guess what honey, this is a fucked up family, what do you expect of me??? Sure, they have breakfast in this, there's cute stuff, but c'mon, they don't eat flowers and oatmeal! Notes: Doubt it needs to be said, but this is a sequel to the good ending of part one. Also Cass has one line in this that might be OOC, or seem oddly placed, but admittedly this chapter is also loosely based on a dream I had, and I couldn't not include the few direct quotations I remembered, and she seemed the most likely to say the line. And yes, there will be a part 3, because I am weak and also kind of maybe made this one less plot-moving than intended.

{Wounded Love: The re-woundening}

Every step ached more than the last, even with Alcina supporting you. She had wanted to carry you down the stairs, of course, but you had insisted that you would be fine. Now you were just determined not to complain out loud. One yelp or cry and you’d be scooped up in her arms, surely to be carried for the rest of the day. As much as you appreciated your girlfriend’s assistance, you hated feeling useless, and hated putting a burden on others. So here you were, one arm wrapped around Alcina’s waist, limping ever-so-slowly towards the dining room.

Further ahead (unburdened by your injury) the three Dimitrescu daughters talk among themselves, voices hushed as they too headed for breakfast. It was odd to see them all awake, and socializing, as there was usually at least one who came to meals late. You couldn’t help but wonder if it had something to do with your condition… or the circumstances that had caused it.

Less than eighteen hours had passed since your fight with a stray lycan, and tension had been high since. While you hadn’t yet spoken to the sisters, you had spoken to Alcina, who had briefly mentioned their concern for you. Whether they actually cared about you as a person or just cared because you are dating their mother is unclear. Based on how they had acted while treating your wounds, though, you were inclined to think that they were fond of you. And seeing as Alcina had already vowed to get revenge on your behalf… well, you wouldn’t be surprised to learn that her daughters intended to assist.

“Careful on the last step, dear,” Alcina says, positioned as to catch you if you fell. It takes a little willpower to resist the urge to hop down the rest of the way. As long as you landed on your uninjured leg, it wouldn’t even be that bad. Still, irritating your girlfriend first thing in the morning felt like a pretty stupid thing to do. Instead you just nodded, slowing down even more, and took visible care not to trip. “Good girl.”

Well, you certainly couldn’t say that being careful didn’t have its rewards.

“I have my moments,” you replied, blush rising to your cheeks. Suddenly your pain didn’t feel so bad (at least until you took another step and winced). “Damn, who woulda thought that cutting a chunk out of my leg would make it hurt more?” The leg in question throbbed in pain, as if to prove your point, protesting the weight you put on it. Changing the angle at which you stood helped some, allowing the lower half of the limb to bear more of the burden.

“Dearest…” Alcina starts to say, looking like she was going to readdress her desire to carry you. For a moment you try to avoid her gaze, but she moves in front of you, making sure that you could still hold onto her for support. “I know how you feel, how you want, desperately, to be independent. When I was first… granted this gift, it took a long time to adjust. There was so much I had to relearn how to do, so much that I suddenly needed done for me.” A pause, a deep breath. At last you look up at your girlfriend, warmth in your heart, reaching out to hold her hand. “You have time, my dear, and plenty of it. More than that… this will not last forever. The more you push yourself, the longer your recovery will take. Now, please, allow me to assist. You have already proven how strong you are.”

“Oh, you drive a hard bargain… but if you insist, who am I to decline? Or, well, who am I to decline twice in a row?” You answer, somewhat begrudgingly. It wasn’t much farther to the dining room, you figured, so it wouldn’t be much of a loss to accept help. Or at least that was what you told yourself. Even with Alcina’s encouragement it was so hard for you to accept her help. After all, you were the one that worked for her. Never mind the fact that she was somewhat responsible for your injury- really, you were actively avoiding thinking about that.

It’s much easier to forget once Alcina carefully picks you up. One arm goes under your legs, the other under your chest, lifting you without any effort. You might as well have been a kitten or a child’s toy. The movement does, however, shift your injured leg in such a way that it aches. At this point you can hardly move the limb at all without it hurting, and even the slightest friction against the bandage makes your eyes water.

Apparently someone would be delivering some painkillers later in the day. You assumed it would be The Duke (whose name is apparently not Doug, as you had thought), seeing as he knew some special way to get to and fro without risking the same fate that had befallen you. Which, of course, made you feel a lot better. Getting someone else hurt would weigh on your mind forever.

Regardless, you were safe now, as was your strange, bloody little family. Before long you would even be enjoying a pleasant meal together. Certainly that would help get your mind off of your wound? For now, though, you were met with an unexpected impasse. The sort of impasse that really, really should have been expected.

“Why… is the doorway… so small?” You asked, jokingly, as you stare into the mildly embarrassed face of your girlfriend. It’s already hard enough for her to crouch through the gap normally. When she’s carrying you? Impossible. “Can we ask Mother Miranda for bigger doors? She gave you eternal life and also three kids, she’s gotta be capable of making bigger doors. Put me down, I’ll go call her and-”

“That won’t be necessary, dear,” Alcina cuts you off, not fully appreciating this part of your humor. Or maybe she had already asked for bigger doors, only to be told no?... Okay, yeah, it was probably the first option. With a sigh she sets you down, as gently as she can manage. Ready and raring to go, you start to hobble forward, only to find all three of the daughters waiting for you, just beyond the door. They’re grinning as they watch you, and Bela extended her arm to offer her help. “What appears to be the matter?” Alcina asks from behind you. Accepting your fate and Bela’s arm, you let the sisters guide you to the table, Cassandra holding your other side, and Daniela pulls your chair out for you. Honestly it’s pretty adorable. Evidently your girlfriend agrees, from the way she smiles as she follows.

“Thank you,” you say, more out of reflex than genuine gratitude. Again, you weren’t thrilled about needing this assistance. If the girls notice they’re at least polite enough not to mention it. They simply move to their own seats at the large table, eager to dig in. It feels… strange, to be here, on this side of things. Stranger still to realize you’re the only one intending to eat actual food. There’s wine in your glass, but it’s a much fainter red than those you’ve previously served to your girlfriend. Thank goodness, you think, after how raw my throat was yesterday, I really don’t need to taste any more blood.

Once Lady Dimitrescu sits down, the meal formally begins, with several maidens appearing from the kitchen. Several seem relieved to see you, although surprised, and one even gave you a brief smile. The smile did not last, however. It wasn’t unexpected, considering the nature of her job, the pressures that it put upon her. No one smiled at mealtimes. Well, no maidens, that is. They simply moved around, wordlessly, faces blank, doing exactly as instructed. Only a few days ago you had been among them, fear keeping you in line. Was it wrong of you to care for Alcina, knowing what she was capable of doing to others? Knowing what she might have, in another life, done to you?

A maiden places a plate of warm food, as well as a bowl of fresh fruit, in front of you. For a moment your eyes meet, but she looks away instinctively. Your heart threatens to break.

“This looks wonderful, thank you for your hard work, all of you,” you speak up, glancing at each of the women working so hard. There’s more you want to say that dries in your throat; you are valued, you are deserving, someday I will join your ranks again.

“You don’t need to thank them, they’re just doing their jobs,” Cassandra chimes from the other side of the table. Hearing her say that damn near makes you drop your fork. It’s not an uncommon settlement, particularly among older generations and the rich, but one that irks you nonetheless.

“They’re doing my job. They are taking on extra work, for no pay, because I am injured. Why would I be so cruel as to ignore them? Have I not toiled alongside them enough to call them my kin?” You ask, struggling to keep your voice even. Next to you Alcina is slowly cutting into her meat, watching the scene unfold out of the corner of her eyes, perhaps considering when to step in. On the other end of the table, Bela looks increasingly uncomfortable, as if silently willing her sister into silence. None of the maidens have reacted to what you said, likely too afraid of Cassandra to even consider speaking.

“Ooooh, this is much more fun than our usual breakfasts,” Daniela says, stifling a giggle. “Do you have any other thoughts you’d like to share? Preferably ones that aren’t about me.” At this, Alcina sets her utensils down, clearly intending to put an end to the discussion. Unfortunately for her, you were a bit… impulsive, especially considering the previous night’s activities had left your mind struggling to cope.

“Dead lycans smell terrible. Literally the worst thing I’ve ever smelled, easily, no question about it,” you answer, shrugging a little as you do. It’s such a simple thought that you almost don’t realize how the others at the table react. Until the clatter of silverware on the table catches your attention, that is. All three sisters are eying you with different expressions (Bela is confused, Cass is impressed, and Daniela looks shocked). But it’s Alcina’s wide-eyed stare that gets you to elaborate. “Should I have said ‘a dead lycan’? I only got one, so I guess I shouldn’t say they all smell bad. C’mon, though, they have to all smell bad, right?”

Suddenly Daniela shifts from shock to pure amusement, a fit of giggles overtaking her. You’re still confused, not sure what the matter was, so you just sip your wine and hope someone asks the right questions.

“You… killed the lycan that attacked you?” Bela finally says, after a few moments of her sister laughing, expression still incredulous. When you nod she sort of shakes her head, trying to clear her thoughts. “May I ask how you managed that?”

“Oh, you know, I just meh meh-” you mime a stabbing motion with your fork- “until the stupid thing stopped moving. I had to use a tree branch as a weapon, but then it broke after a few whacks, which actually helped because then I had two stabbing implements to, you know, stab with. That’s right around when it got my leg, and it tried to bite me. Thankfully it wasn’t very smart, so when it leapt at me I just hyah-” this time an upwards strike- “right into its neck. That didn’t kill it, but it was enough to slow it down, which allowed me to stab the other half of the branch into its skull. Made this horrible, horrible sound as it died. Seeing as we are eating, I will not imitate the sound. Not that I could, now that I think about it…”

Once again there’s silence. Even Daniela has quieted now, and is watching you with rapt interest, likely hoping that you’re hiding another story up your sleeves.

“So… did you guys actually think that I managed to run away from the lycan? Or were you under the impression that it simply got bored of me and left?” You ask, casually returning to your breakfast afterwards. No one says anything, at first, taking in your words as best as they can. A few moments later both Daniela and Bela resume their meal, as nonchalant as one could be in the current situation. Alcina, however, rests a gentle hand on your shoulder, meeting your gaze with a loving look.

“You will never cease to amaze me, my dear. But let us ensure you never have to… smell, or see, one of those wretched things again, yes?” She says, softly squeezing you as she does. You can’t help but agree, and nod eagerly, mouth too full of hashbrowns to speak. Still, there’s been a shift in the atmosphere of the room. It’s not that the family didn’t respect you before, as far as you can tell, but they evidently hadn’t expected you to prove as capable as you had. It brings a sense of pride to the forefront of your mind, making you completely forget about your injury for the remainder of the meal.

Unable to stop yourself, you insist on helping the other maidens clean up, and Alcina eventually agrees to let you wash a few dishes- as long as you stay sitting the entire time. The last thing you hear before you shuffle off to the kitchen is the start of a conversation between Cassandra and her mother.

“You picked quite a feisty one, didn’t you?”

“That I did, that I did…”

[movedyourchair505]

Fiducia

✨Pregnancy smut✨

- chapter navigation -

x

It'd been a day, but it felt like forever, like she'd spent too much time already without the electricity only Alexander was capable of making her feel, just the warmth of his palm pressed to her lower back was too much, she was getting more and more used to the fact that she wanted him even more than before, all of the time, something she'd thought impossible, but she was also coming to terms with the exhaustion she felt at the end of the day, especially insisting on not staying home until it was absolutely necessary.

The frustration she'd felt upon waking up that morning realising she'd fallen asleep on the ride home from the headquarters had only been amplified by the realisation that she was in no condition then to get what she really wanted, the whole day she'd tried to take it slow, and now, stood in the lift so close to Alexander's side, his hand on her protectively, she was desperate for him, craved everything she'd missed for too long now. A few more moments and she'd have him all to herself.

The doors hadn't opened, but his lips were at her ear, pressing a kiss to her cheek before he spoke, the depth of his voice making her head spin, her body trembling, and she knew he could feel it.

“Jade,” he drawled. His tone was low, the confidence firm. “Today were a lot, eh?” Another hint of a kiss. “Promise I'm gunna take such good care of yeh now.”

She shivered, opened her mouth to respond, but she only melted into him, the doors of the lift opening then and he led her forward, her heels clicking on the floor in sync with his boots.

“Alexander...” she said quietly, her eyes remaining on him as he held the door open for her and watched her pass. “I need you.”

He licked his lips, nodding slowly, following, then letting door click shut behind them, never taking his eyes off her. “Is tha' reyht?” he chuckled.

Jade nodded, biting her lip. “Please.”

His let his gaze wander, admired the way she, though she must have been exhausted, looked absolutely incredible in the black dress that clung to her body, it was like her long legs and the natural curve in the way her hips swayed were unaffected by the now well-rounded evidence of her pregnancy. The glow she had about her seemed to increase every day, he wanted to worship her.

“I need you.”

He hummed, slowly stepping closer to her. “'m 'ere,” he assured her, his hand coming up to cup the side of her face, the other on her shoulder, his knuckles stroking over her skin. “D'yeh want teh take this off?”

She nodded, knew she looked good, but the growing discomfort was becoming difficult to ignore and she turned slightly, stepped out of her heels, then moved her hair to the side to give him access to the zipper at her back, sighing when he drew it down slowly, pressed a warm kiss to the back of her neck.

He reveled in the way he felt her relax instantly, stepping back to help her shed the dress, his palm slowly sprawling out over her belly once she had, sighing. As much as he wanted to make her fall apart for him, give her everything she needed, he'd automatically come to be slower, his movements drawn out rather than sudden and impulsive. “'ow's sheh been todeh?”

Her eyes met his and she laughed quietly, rolling her eyes at him. “Not too bad,” she said. “I don't know what she was up to this morning, but...” She sighed, her breath shaky. “Calm now.”

Alex nodded slowly, his eyes wandering up her body, admiring the transparency of her lingerie, black and sheer and suggestive, the floral lace delicate over her skin. “Y'look incredible, y'kno'.”

The further her pregnancy had advanced, the more devoted he'd been to giving her what she needed unconditionally, his dominance intense rather than merciless, the balance between what she wanted and what she could handle difficult to navigate for him, no matter how well he knew her body.

“Lie down for meh, principessa.”

He stepped forward until she sat slowly on the bed and he lowered her down, his lips attaching instantly to the side of her neck, not long enough to mark her before he descended further to appreciate all of her, kisses trailing over her collarbone, his palm spreading out over her breast while he made his way down, placed kisses on her belly, then when he reached her underwear drew it down slowly, discarding of it.

“Alexander,” she whined, lost in the way he took his time for her, but she was desperate for him.

“Let meh ease yeh in, please...” he whispered, shrugging his suit jacket down his arms and quickly with a few flicks of his wrists rolling up the sleeves of his white dress shirt, then his hands were sprawled out across her inner thighs, spreading them just enough though they threatened to close instantly she he began kissing her skin, pressed to his cheeks and trapping him on impulse.

He hummed appreciatively, moving his hands to the undersides of her thighs to adjust the angle so she could rest her thighs on his shoulders. “I wanna relax yeh, doll,” he hummed, a slow nudge with the tip of his tongue making her hips shake, a soft whine falling from her lips. “Darlin', are yeh alreyht on yehr back? Y'kno' the doctor said...”

She breathed out shakily, her fingers finding their way into his hair to grind into him, to move his mouth where she needed it. “Alexander, shh...” she whined. “Please...”

He chuckled against her hot skin, stuck his tongue again, a few nudges to her clit before he parted his lips, his whole mouth slowly covering her, licking, sucking, reacting to the way she mewled for him, tugged on his hair, her thighs tense and clamping around his head, then loosening again, her body shaking. “Jade...” he warned. “Are yeh 'oldin' back on meh?” He could tell that she was slowly relaxing, getting lost the way he'd hoped she would, but there was a hint of hesitation. “No punishments, doll, y'kno' tha'... no matter 'ow wet yeh get meh...”

She let her head fall back, tried to relax as he asked, a nudge of his tongue making her whine, pull his hair harder.

“Yeahh,” he groaned against her. “Pull me 'air, doll, wha'ever yeh need...”

He was spreading her wetness around so deliciously, alternating between poking his tongue inside her, circling her entrance and teasing her clit, eager to feel her lose herself no matter what, anticipating the same intensity he knew he could overwhelm her with when he lost control of himself, lost himself in her in the heat of the moment, knew how hard he could come down on her in those moments and he was ready to take anything from her. “C'mon,” he coaxed. “I want all of yeh, pupa, let meh drink yeh down...”

She whimpered as he increased the pressure of his tongue. “Alexander...”

The rush of wetness, the need in her voice, the way she tugged on his hair, his head was spinning. “Soak meh, doll, c'mon...”

She was more sensitive, but also more tense, and yet, she was powerless to the way he coaxed her, knew exactly how to get her to come undone when he was not out to demonstrate the power he had over her when denying and edging her, but to give everything to build the bliss and make sure she could let go and feel it all.

The flicks of his tongue, licking and teasing, he built and built, then started sucking on her clit, as if demanding she let go, leaving her with no way to hold on and with her fingers wound tightly into his hair, her hips lifted off the bed, grinding into him, covering his lips, his nose and he stayed as he was, worked to ease her through her orgasm as she trapped his head between her thighs, fell over the edge with a strangled moan before her body relaxed, the tension eased, panting to regain her breath.

He growled against her, chuckling, drinking it all down, then lifted his head, looking up at her, his swollen lips shiny and curling into a smile, his hair curling, damp where it'd loosened the product.

Her eyes met his. “Thank you,” she breathed.

“Mmm, doll...” he hummed as he stroked his fingertips down her thigh, pressed a kiss to the inside of it before lowering them slowly from his shoulders and onto the bed. Her chest was flushed, her hair framing her face, her skin shiny. He wanted to give her everything. “D'yeh need more from meh?”

She nodded, the look in her eyes a plea in itself before she spoke. “Please.”

He licked his lips. “'ow d'yeh wanna beh fooked?”

Jade swallowed, her response instinctive. “Same way you did after we came back from the scan last week.”

He chuckled. “Mmm, yeah, been finkin' 'bout tha' too, 'ave yeh?” he hummed, slowly rising to his feet and unbuckling his belt, could see the need on her face as she watched him closely. “I promise I'll make it good.”

Before she could try to sit up right, he'd lowered himself back onto the bed, behind her, lifting her legs effortlessly to get her onto her knees, weakened by the way she melted back into him, his arm looped around her, his lips against her shoulder. The intensity of him like this was unmatched, the angle blissful, the safety of his arms all she needed to relax. “Please don't hold back this time.”

“Jade...” he sighed, his knuckles stroking over her cheek, felt her lean into his touch. He hated to deny her, especially when it was exactly what he didn't want, but he was worried she would get ahead of herself, though could never resist the way she begged for more.

“Alexander, please...” She tried to move her hips back, her body curving into him and she gasped as he adjusted his position behind her, the tip of his cock teasing what was to come. While the intensity of him was never unchanged, she knew there would be no sudden force, nothing she did not ask for, he was dedicated to the slowing, drawing out the sensations even more than she'd asked, and as much as she loved his demands and the way he could ruin her, the complete absence of any sort of cruelty from him was equally as exciting. Softness when he was in charge of her was rare at her own request, but since he'd made it his mission to focus solely on her unconditional pleasure, she'd realised once again that even that, like everything else, no one could do better than him.

Her eyes fell shut when he filled her slowly, her fingers tightening their grip on his forearm instantly, feeling the veins, the tension in his muscles. She whined, tears pearling down her cheeks from the intensity of the way he stretched her. “A-Alexander...”

“I've got yeh..” he groaned against her skin, held her body up securely against his, could feel her breath shake when he was buried all the way inside her, his hand coming down on her hip to steady her as he started to slowly work his hips into hers, groaning at the way she felt, drawing him in, gushing around him as he pushed up his hips, his cheek resting against her back, her skin warm. “Fook, doll...” he moaned, his eyes falling shut.

“Mm, yes, baby,” she whispered, desperate to feel more of him, her voice trailing off into a soft moan when he picked up the pace, the movement of his hips drawn out, though no less intense than she was used to, making her skin tingle. She was drawing him in, getting used to the stretch, tightening around him until her walls melted around him, submitted to him, adjusted to the way he was working his hips into hers, filling her so blissfully that all the stress and discomfort was much more bearable for the moment, humming in anticipation of his hand slowly dragging flat up her body, then loosely closing around her throat, despite the lack of pressure still making her eyes fall shut, relaxing into the safety of him.

He could sense the tension ceasing, her breath relieved as she melted back into him, the feeling of her relaxing, gushing around him at the sensation overwhelming, his hips bucking forward with need, momentarily shaking. “Is tha' nice?”

“Yes,” she whined, sighing as she adjusted to the way he was moving faster, harder, anticipating him building the pleasure, taking care of her the way she'd needed.

“Oh Jade...” he sighed. “'course.” He stroked his fingertips over her throat, his voice muffled against her skin as he slowed, not wanting to get carried away before testing her limit. “'ow mooch can yeh take rehyt now?”

She breathed out shakily, swallowing. “Just don't stop...”

He tutted, his eyes closed. “Jade...” he sighed. “I want yeh taken care of. Not 'urt.”

“Ruin me, baby,” she whispered, trying to push her hips back into his. “Please. I'll take it all.”

“Jade, are yeh sure...” He bit his lip, lifting his head slightly. “Tell meh now...” He breathed in the scent of her, floral, sweaty, uniquely his. “I might lose meself.”

“I-I need you,” she whimpered, her hand coming to cover his around her throat. “Please...”

He groaned at the way she moved back into him, intertwined their fingers, moaned shakily the moment he drew his hips back only to push up inside her again, her body trembling in his hands. “Mmm, fook...”

The intensity overwhelmed her, made her whine, barely prepared for the way he picked up the pace, the way he started working his cock into her, her walls tightening around him, the friction building the pleasure, her hips tensing at the feeling, her grip tighter on his hand. The stinging sensation seemed to build in her, she expected the relief of the feeling he evoked in her to ease it, but it built along with the pleasure instead, making her hiss, discomfort blurring with frustration, she wanted to do everything for him, push her limit for him because he was taking care of her, but she knew that, no matter how much it irritated her to admit, it would break him if she pushed her limit like this for him.

She took a deep breath. “A-Alexander...” she choked out, biting her lip. “I think you should-...” Her voice was just a hint, still undecided.

The moment he heard the unfamiliar tone, felt the way she tensed, he did the same, his grip tightening around her to stop himself, to pull her against him. “Y-Yes, doll?” he asked, his voice husky, strained.

She sniffed, frustrated with herself beyond reason. “I-...”

“Jade...” he whispered. “Tell meh.”

She swallowed hard, her fingertips moving down his forearm. “I think I need you to be gentler.” She breathed out shakily. “I can't... take it like that...”

His eyes widened, his arms remaining around her as he drew back his hips to pull out of her, fuelled by the fear her tone had instilled within him.

“N-No...” she whined. “No, please. Don't stop... just... just slower...”

He tried to compose himself, worried he'd misjudged something, leaning over to press a kiss to her shoulder. “Alrehyt,” he whispered. “I got yeh. Are yeh sure?”

She nodded. “Please...”

He knew that the fact that she had brought herself to tell him, to slow him down, it meant something, was so unlike her that he could not help but understand the severity of it, but it also had him determined on making things right, on despite everything making her feel as good and as well taken care of as she deserved, slowly positioning himself again, though sinking back into her slowly, one of his hands locked tightly on her breast, the other on her hip to control the way they rocked together.

Slowly, the pleasure took over the tension again, made her relax back into him, trying to meet his thrusts. “Fuck...” she whispered, lost in the dedication of she could sense in the way he moved now.

He was easing her into the sensation again, holding her tight, in awe of her control over him as well as the way she trusted him blindly, had him devoted to giving her exactly what she needed. He admired the way she curved back into him, moaning with relief, instantly relieving him too. “Like this, darlin'?” he asked, the depth of his voice softer now.

“Perfect, Alexander...” she whispered, slowly enveloped by nothing but pleasure again, the pure bliss she knew only he could drive her into with the way he was everywhere, making her shake around him, surrounded by the spice of his scent, the warmth of his chest, the muscles she could feel in his arms. His lips were pressed to the side of her neck, his breath ghosting over her skin.

“Yeh're in charge of meh, doll,” he promised. “'s all at yehr command.”

“I like this, baby,” she whispered, the way he dragged his cock along her walls slowly, though then pushed back inside her was electric in the best way, had her shaking, the soreness she'd felt before now building an intensity that brought tears to her eyes, had her so close.

Her clear expression of bliss and appreciation fuelled him further, melted by the softness of her voice despite her desperate need, knew she was lost in him the way he helplessly adored. “Tha' feel good, doll?” he breathed, his voice raspy.

“Y-Yes, that's so good, Alexander,” she whispered. “Right there...” She tensed, then relaxed, whining. “Right there is perfect...”

Her voice was driving him wild, his hips shaking.

“N-No, keep going like this,” she whispered, worried he would pick up the speed too soon. “It hurt before...”

He bit his lip, the plea in her voice taking his breath away and he slowed again instantly, stroking his knuckles over her throat to soothe her. “Yeh're sure?” he asked.

She nodded, moaning when he filled her slowly again. “Y-Yes... thank you...”

He hummed, the way she told him what she needed and was desperate for him giving her exactly that irresistible, wanted nothing more but to take care of her in any way she could possibly ask. “I luv yeh.”

He was in complete control her, holding her steady, his cock stroking her walls just right each time, had her so close to the edge she could taste it even though she'd paced him so much, though aware that the intensity that had taken over her was nowhere near what she, nor he, usually needed. “Baby...” she whispered. “Do you feel good?”

He groaned against her skin, his grip tightening on her, taken aback only when he heard the unsteady shake. “Jade...” he sighed, slowly drawing back, then filling her again, making her moan. “C'mon...”

“I'm sorry, I know i-...”

“Shhh...” he coaxed, pressing a kiss to the back of her neck, could taste her salty skin. “Dun't yeh start wif tha'...” He bucked his hips back up, could sense she was close, his own pleasure threatening to spill over. “Joost wanna give yeh wha' yeh need...”

“A-Alexander...” she whined, overwhelmed by his devotion, the unconditional passion.

“Fook...” he groaned. “Amore mio, yeh feel... incredible...” He gasped, driving into her hard, his teeth sinking lightly into her skin, his grip on her tightening to keep her where she was, hold her in his arms as he felt her release follow his, his pleasure amplified tenfold by the way she tightened around him, kept him buried deep inside her, her whole body shaking, moaning with relief, gushing, melting around him, again and again until she fell back into his arms.

She felt the heat of his release, the tension in his muscles as he held her safely, allowed her to relax completely as the pleasure washed over her, her breath only shaken when she felt his hand  cup the side of her neck to turn her head slightly, capturing her lips in a deep kiss, the devotion and intensity weakening her.

He chuckled as he broke the kiss to catch his breath, his thumb stroking over her throat. “Oh, doll...”

She closed her eyes, leaning into his touch. “Thank you, Alexander,” she whispered, sighing shakily.

He leaned in to press a slow kiss to her lips again, then resting forehead against hers. “Let's get yeh t'bed, eh?” he hummed, drawing back his hips, sighing as he slid out of her.

It was not much later when he returned to bed with a bottle of water and a glass of zabaglione he'd had his chef at Venere send for her.

Her eyes widened, the cool feeling of the glass bottle an instant relief in her warm palms and she took a long sip, felt instantly more at ease, her eyes closing when his arm looped around her and he drew her closer, leaning against his shoulder as well as the headboard, the stretch of her back a sensation she hadn't known she needed and she relaxed back into him contentedly, placing the bottle on the nightstand, shifting slightly to face him, cupping his cheek, her heart skipping a beat at the way his eyes instantly met hers.

“'m sorreh I 'urt yeh,” he whispered, blinking slowly when her thumb dragged over his bottom lip.

“You didn't know,” she sighed. “I'm sorry I couldn't take... fuck...”

His eyes snapped open. “No, no, doll,” he said, shaking his head. “C'mon,” he tutted.

She sighed, had despite her initial worries not expect any different from him. Her fingertips trailed down the side of his neck, his shoulder, his collarbones, his skin shiny with sweat still, his muscles now less tense, his eyes closed again.

“Yeh got no idea 'ow nice tha' is...” he chuckled, his voice merely a hint.

She smiled. “You're all mine, Alexander.”

“Forever,” he hummed.”All of meh's yehrs. I promise yeh.”

She leaned forward, captured his lips in a slow kiss. He'd never broken a promise to her and she knew he would not. The unconditional loyalty and passionate devotion had her without a doubt that she could not have married a better man. “Do you want me to share my dessert with you?” she asked, the way his eyes opened and sparkled as they met hers irresistible.

He held out his palm for the glass, licking his lips. “I'll feed yeh.”

[dameronology]

dance with somebody {din djarin x reader}

summary: din djarin doesn’t dance - but for you, he’ll try

warnings: swearing 

this is just short, domestic fluff because it’s late and i’m tired and i want a hug from din djarin. enjoy!!

- jazz

Din Djarin knew when you got an idea in your head.

You got this...look. Or maybe it wasn’t so much a look, as it was a smirk. Lips tilted upwards, head slightly angled with a look of adoration in your eyes -- at him, at the kid, at the little life you’d managed to find on the Crest amongst the chaos of everything else.

Tonight was slow; just you, him and Grogu. The latter was passed out in his crib, the pod shut as he snored quietly. It would have been cute if the tiny womprat hadn’t been keeping you awake for four days straight. Every time you’d fallen asleep, he’d open his mouth and serenade you with the harmonious sounds of his cries, clearly offended that you were doing something other than giving him attention. You understood that. There had been times when you had felt like screaming to the heavens in an attempt to vie for the Mandalorian’s affections. Tonight, luckily, wasn’t one of those times.

You were both sat on the floor of the Crest; Din was leant against the wall with you perched beside him, legs strewn over his. He had one hand resting on your thigh and the other holding a book open -- that had been a surprise to see. He didn’t seem like the type to own books. Or even know what a book was. Aside from the time he’d spent forty minutes digging out the Crest’s manual, you’d never seen him with one in his life. Now, however, he’d opted to try and read a murder mystery that you’d brought months ago. It was funny, because half of the gory stuff in the story was like probably just a Wednesday for him.

He could feel you staring at him, a hazy smile on your face. It was rare you got to see him without the helmet on for such a long time, and even when you did, you still liked to gaze at him with heart eyes. How could you not? You’d fallen in love with him for who he was, but you couldn’t deny that he was fucking pretty. That one had worked out in your favour.

Din slowly turned his head to face you, and that’s when he saw the look. The I have an idea and I’m not forgetting about it ever look. It was the same one you’d had when you suggested keeping Grogu, and...in pretty much every situation that Din had tried to initially refute, only to bend to your will and end up later regretting it. Not so much regretting agreeing to do things for you or with you, but more regretting his inability to deny you of anything, ever. He had only one weakness and it was you.

‘What now?’

You thinned your eyes at him. ‘Hmm?’

‘I know that look.’ He gave your leg a squeeze, putting the book down. ‘Just cut to the chase and tell me.’

‘D’you know how to dance?’

He did a double take. ‘Dance?’

‘Yeah. Like when you move to music-’

‘- I know what it is.’ Din cut you off, trying to fight back a slight smile. ‘Not my thing.’

‘It’s not my thing either.’ You replied.

‘Good.’ Another squeeze to the leg. 

He knew you weren’t going to let it go. Din was wiser than that, so why he went back to reading his book was beyond him, because you clearly weren’t finished with whatever plan your brain was formulating. He tried not to think too much of it when you stood up, making your way across the room to a decades-old speaker that was built into the wall. It had come with the ship, but Din only ever used it to play white noise for your Foster Gremlin when the ship was noisy. 

He glanced over at you, bent down in front of the radio as you fiddled with the tuning on the side. A moment later, a crackly sound came out - it was gentle and soft, like the sort of music they played in expensive restaurants and fancy hotels. As you could probably imagine, neither of those were things he had much experience with. The cantinas that you both frequented played more upbeat and catchy tunes. 

‘Stand up.’ You moved to stand in front of him, sticking your hand out.

‘I’m reading.’

‘Din.’ You pouted. ‘Please?’

He grumbled, tossing the book aside and lacing his fingers in yours. Your attempts to pull him up were a little haphazard, especially when you almost toppled over as he stood up, but he easily caught you, one hand on your waist and one on your arm. You stayed like that for a moment, before you wrapped your arms around his sides, trying to drag him to the center of the hull.

‘What are you doing?’ 

‘You need to just...move side to side.’ You tried to demonstrate the movements, but it only earned a chortle from the bounty hunter. Perhaps it was for the best that you hadn’t pursued being a dance teacher as a career route.

‘I’m not dancing.’

‘This isn’t dancing!’ You insisted. ‘It’s just swaying to some music.’

‘That is dancing, cyar’ika.’ He peered down at you, brown eyes barely wavering as you scowled. 

‘Okay, maybe it is.’ You grumbled. ‘But just try, please?’

‘Fine.’ He bit his lip, before pulling you closer. ‘But only for you.’

That was the driving force behind most of what he did: you. Whether it was hunting down dangerous bounties to make the galaxy safer for you and the kid, or putting money aside for whatever future you had, he always had you in mind. Din had no idea where your lives were going, or even where you would end up -- he knew only that it would be together. He didn’t care if it stayed this way forever, just you and him on the Crest, or if you were destined to settle down in the suburbs of a far away planet. He had everything he needed, and anything else was just a bonus. 

You grinned, wrapping your arms around his neck with a soft kiss to the jaw. He followed your lead, letting you move him about the small space. There was no technique to it -- it was just a little bit of swaying, and a little bit of dragging him side to side. It was easy to get lost in his presence, especially when he had all his usual barriers down. There was no armour, no helmet. Right now, he wasn’t the Mandalorian. He was Din Djarin, and he was holding onto you tightly. He smelt faintly of blaster fire and caff (typical) and his breath was soft against your neck, all things that were worlds away from the scary persona that he usually put on. 

At some point, Din felt himself getting just as lost in you, pulling you closer as you gently moved about and tightening his grip on you. He buried his head in your shoulder, letting out a small sigh of content. It was something he did every so often, usually when you were drifting off to sleep or lazily laying together in the morning. Most the time, he didn’t even realise he was doing it, and you never pointed it out. That didn’t mean that it didn’t make your heart scream, but it was something you kept to yourself. You knew how much it took for him to show vulnerability, even to you. To everyone else, the only emotions he had were confused helmet tilt and sigh.  

‘Maybe this isn’t so bad.’ Din murmured, voice slightly muffled by your shoulder. 

You chuckled slightly. ‘Yeah?’

He raised his head to give you a soft smile. ‘Yeah.’

‘I love you.’ You softly smiled. 

‘I love you too.’ Din leant down to brush his lips against yours, hands gripping your waist as he held you there for a second. 

‘Is that the only reason you agreed to do this?’ You teased.

‘It’s the only reason I ever agree to do anything.’ 

tags: @mudhornchronicles​ @engineeredfiction​

[forthegothicheroine]

The King in Yellow, 1949

Much of this story is true.  Warnings in the tags.

When I had pneumonia in my early teens, my mother brought home an armful of VHS tapes from the library to alleviate my misery.  Knowing my snobbish preferences, she had grabbed copies of whatever she found in black and white.  I remember something musical that I suspect was Busby Berkeley, I remember Mildred Pierce (a bad choice, as it turned out- the plot includes a young girl dying of pneumonia), and I remember a period piece called The King.  I faded in and out of consciousness while I watched it, but it soothed me while I was awake and filled my fever dreams with sparkling images.  I could never find it at the library again, nor at Hollywood Video or even early Netflix (once my father got the subscription service where you could order practically every DVD.)  It was a bit odd that it seemed to be so obscure, given that it starred old Hollywood legend Ingrid Bergman (and, although I initially forgot it, Marlene Dietrich.)  But even big stars make films that fall by the wayside in public memory, and it seemed that this was one of them.  Google was no help, and at the time that was that.

I didn’t see the film again until I was watching Turner Classic Movies at my grandparents’ house.  I loved watching that channel with them while filling out the crossword puzzle that came in their little TCM catalogue (all of it based on movie trivia, the only kind of crossword puzzle I’ve ever been any good at.)  I recognized a certain scene where Bergman stood on a balcony, looking sadly at the moon.  Her face had an expression of unutterable melancholy, and the crescent moon reflected in each of her eyes, giving the impression of two moons in one sky.  I had very little time to catch up on what I’d missed before we had to go meet my cousins at the local Italian restaurant.  I knew logically that the movie would be long over by the time we returned, but I turned on the channel anyway.  Of course it had moved on to the lesser known Alfred Hitchcock film Stage Fright, but then I heard Marlene Dietrich sing before I could reach the remote to turn the tv off in disappointment.  I knew that I had heard her sing before, and I knew it had been in The King.

Dietrich’s singing often comes across as somewhat campy today, with its Rs pronounced as Ws and it’s up-and-down tone.  Madeline Kahn parodied it brilliantly in Blazing Saddles, such that it was a bit of a disappointment when I finally saw Dietrich’s western Destry Rides Again and found it to be lifeless and inconsistent next to the parody.  Still, we remember her voice for a reason, and when I remembered it that night, I knew that its sardonic loneliness had rung through The King and made me shiver in my dreams.

The TCM schedule didn’t list The King in its time slot, but something else.  If I had taken down the name, maybe it would have helped me find it.  Sometimes the same movie runs under multiple names.

I didn’t see the film all the way through for many years, after I graduated college.  I had found a web page that listed public domain film noir, including one called The Masked Guest.  The website described it as a costume noir, and I curiously clicked on the link.  Once I took in the credits running on the youtube window, my eyes grew wide and I did not move from my place on the bed until the movie had run its course.

The credits did indeed list it as The Masked Guest, but I recognized the strange repeating design on the title cards.  They told me that in addition to starring Dietrich and Bergman, it was directed by Fritz Lang, and a character called The King was credited to “???”  (I hadn’t seen that kind of credit since the first Karloff Frankenstein.)  When the King finally appears on screen, though, it is unmistakably Orson Welles’s voice that booms out from behind his elaborate costume.

Here are the things I understand about The King, or The Masked Guest, or The Man in Yellow, or any other title I’ve found for it on public domain archive searches.  Dietrich and Bergman play princesses named Cassilda and Camilla, respectively.  Though Dietrich’s accent is German and Bergman’s is Swedish, they blend together to give the film the impression of being set somewhere on the map that I can’t quite find.  The scenery and camera angles are very Freudian, with a great deal of archways and pillars.

The first act of The King involves frankly dull romantic plotlines, and the only thing that really saved it was the feeling that the suitors were supposed to be insipid, a suspicion lended credence by the fact that the love interests were listed so low on the credits.  Dietrich is the scandalous sister and Bergman is the responsible one, though each takes on aspects of the other as the film goes on.  Dietrich sings her song at a party, dressed in a fake 17th century gown and leaning against a piano.  Although just a moment ago she had been laughing and joking with her gentleman friends, her song takes an abruptly serious tone (not seductive, not sentimental) as she tells the story of a city lost to time and memory.  Bergman slips away from the party and onto the balcony, where we see that wonderful shot of the moon in her eyes.  Is she mourning?  Is she longing?

Dietrich cuts off the song by abruptly screaming “Not on us, King!  Not on us!”  She flees the party weeping and shaking, and from there on the film goes mad.

Though uncommon, it is not unknown for movies to switch between black and white and color, done most famously in The Wizard of Oz.  The film The King recalls here is the silent Phantom of the Opera, which had a masqued ball scene tinted in shades of red and green that tried to provide a whole spectrum of color.  The effect is even odder in the masqued ball scene in The King- the only color that appears is yellow, highlighting things like candlelight, Dietrich’s hair, a passing gown, a vase of tulips.  It also highlights one particular masked figure, whose expressionless mask was decorated with a black pattern against a sickening yellow canvas- the same pattern I had seen in the opening credits.  The color of his costume causes him to stand out from the crown even when he is far off in the background, just one head among many others.  It must have taken long and painstaking hours of work to color in every frame.

Dietrich still seems broken up days after her song, though Bergman tries to coax her into joining the dance.  Finally, at midnight, Dietrich goes out to face the party, but only to demand that every guest remove their mask.  The yellow man with a voice that once warned America about a Martian invasion tells her that he wears no mask.  Bergman reacts with disbelief, but Dietrich starts laughing like a woman unhinged.  As she laughs, the yellow hue seeps out of the King’s clothing and face- if that really is his face- and begins to color the entire ballroom crowd.  I think that what follows is bloodshed, but if there is any carnage (doubtful under the Production Code censorship), the blood must be tainted yellow and splashed across the camera like daubs of paint.  Dietrich’s laughing face is doubled and tripled on screen until it dissipates, but even when it has faded offscreen, it feels as if her ghost continues to watch the proceedings.  

By the end of the scene (filled with German Expressionist camera angles and mad violin screeching), only Bergman remains alive, cowering behind a grandfather clock.  It does not hide her for long.  The King steps towards her and extends his hand.  Reluctantly, but with a fatalistic expression, Bergman takes his hand.  They walk away together hand in hand.  The screen shifts back into black and white, and then the credits roll before we can get a good look at all the bodies in the scene.  The credits say it was based on a play called The King in Yellow, although Raymond Chandler of all people apparently had a hand in the screenplay.

As I said, that’s what I think I understand.  It’s an oddly experimental art film for the era, and it may be awaiting rediscovery by the film festival crowd.  I feel as if I alone know about it, though that obviously isn’t true.  It is my little secret; I tell myself that my husband doesn’t need me to show it to him, it would be too odd for his taste.  I’ve rewatched it many times, even if it seems like each time I search for it I have to find a different video platform or torrent.  Naturally, no subscription site has it available.  Maybe I am the last person who will ever watch it.  Maybe no one will ever think to look for it again after me, and it will be completely forgotten.

When I was hospitalized, they let me use my laptop at night before I went to sleep (no power cord, though, in case I tried to hang myself.)  I found a youtube link for The Man in Yellow, and I watched it every night.  It wasn’t a soothing sort of movie, but having it in my mind all day and then watching it in the evening allowed me to think as opposed to crying endlessly while the other patients shot me awkward looks.  I clutched the childhood stuffed animals my mother brought me when she visited, and I always held them extra tight when the masquerade scene started.

I watched the movie when I had to move away from my beloved San Francisco.  I watched the movie when I lost the last of my grandparents.  I watched the movie when a doctor unwisely took me off my medication and I couldn’t manage to eat for a month.  I watched the movie when the whole world got sick and we all locked ourselves away from each other.  I don’t mind that I don’t entirely know what it means.  I don’t mind the nightmares.  In the hospital they kept telling us about mindfulness exercises, and maybe the fact that I can focus on every aspect of the film so closely that all else falls away is the reason I keep coming back to it.  I’m being mindful.  I’m not letting any stray thoughts invade my head.  I’m just watching and waiting for the next beat of every scene, leading inexorably to that yellow-stained bloodbath.

Streaming media doesn’t last forever, and each time I find The King, I worry that it will be the last time I ever can find it.  My efforts to download it have so far been unsuccessful, odd considering that it is in the public domain.

When I watch The King, I am once again a child in my bedroom being cared for in the throes of agonizing sickness.  I am once again sitting on the couch with my grandparents in front of the tv, both of them alive and lucid again.  I am once again in the hospital, all alone except for my stuffed animals and the staff trying to keep me alive.  The film reflects in my eyes like the crescent moon in Ingrid Bergman’s gaze.  It sings to me.

I am determined to find a way to obtain The King under any name so that I never have to worry about losing it.  During some of the worst times in my life, it is the only thing that has kept me sane.

[darthkruge]

Okay okay okay so imagine Reader is abducted by the separatists because she ( or nb reader ) is a very well loved member of the senate. So obviously Anakin goes to save her, but his idiot plan gets him captured as well so then it's up to Reader to talk her way out of this mess, get to her idiot boyfriend, free him and then both of them try to make it out alive. Bonus points for Obi-Wan looking very tired and sick of Anakin's ideas in the background. What do you think?

Anakin Skywalker x Fem!Reader ~ Rescue Operations?

Summary: After the Reader is captured by the Separatists, Anakin rushes to save her. When this doesn’t work out, the Reader has to get her and her boyfriend out of this mess. 

Warnings: Language, whump, one scene where the Reader gets beat up, Reader is a badass, Anakin is completely in love with his badass girlfriend and we love that for him

Words: 3.8k

A/N: Catherine, my love!! I’m sorry this took me so long, I have nothing to say for myself other than my poor organization skills. But I’m obsessed with this request, I hope I did it justice <3

gif credit (x)

You groaned as you opened your eyes and attempted to shake the drowsiness that seemed to cling to your very bones. You blinked, trying to get your bearings and remember what had happened. You were preparing for your speech at the Senate, trying to pass a peace treaty between the Republic and some smaller territories that were debating joining the fight against the Separatists. You’d been fighting for support for the treaty for months and you finally had the chance to give one last speech before the vote. 

You’d been pacing in your Coruscant apartment, practicing the speech for your boyfriend a million times. After you finished your recitation, you exited the room, needing to get your notes that you’d seemed to misplace. So you went into your office and… nothing.

Why couldn’t you remember after that?! You opened the door to your office, walked inside, and… 

You sighed as you came back to the present, leaning against the wall behind you and looking around. You were clearly in a cell of some sort and the Separatists were almost certainly behind this. You were still in your Senate attire, although it had been thoroughly scuffed up, and they’d taken your datapad and other communication devices. You felt around your boot and smiled. Your knife was still there. They must have assumed you wouldn’t be carrying a weapon to your speech and not done a thorough enough check. Whatever the reason, you were thanking the Maker it was still there. 

Back in Coruscant, Anakin was walking the Temple halls in a crazed state. When you didn’t show up for your speech, he immediately panicked. He knew how important this treaty was for you and the entire Republic; you’d been going over it for forever and there is no way you’d just blow it off without telling anyone. The rest of the Senate was also concerned. You’d grown up in one of the poorer districts and, thus, had a sense of relatability and humility that most were drawn to. Whether or not they agreed with your policies, almost everyone could understand that you always kept the interest of the people at the forefront of your mind. 

When Obi-Wan walked up to him with a ripped piece of your clothes and your scattered and crumpled notes, Anakin felt his heart drop. 

“It was the Separatists. They must have knocked her out in her office and escaped through the vents.”

Upon seeing his absolutely heartbroken expression, Obi-Wan added, “We’ll get her back, Anakin. I promise.”

Anakin could only nod, ideas for a plan to save you already running round his head. 

You’d been in this kriffing cell for four days now. Or maybe it was five? You were desperately trying to keep your wits about you but it was so hard; they brought you a tiny ration of food and water once a day and it was not near enough to keep your strength up. You’d spent your time trying to carve your way through the bars but your knife was no match and you quickly gave up, not wanting to dull the blade. You’d found a loose brick hidden around the floor and used the knife to cut it out, allowing you to hide your weapon under it on the off chance they searched you again. 

You tried to think of a plan to escape but they hadn’t even opened your door yet. There was no way you could get out by yourself and, until someone came in that you could attack, it was pointless to even try. They kept you in complete darkness and silence, no way to tell how much time had passed aside from the daily rations. You assumed you were on a Separatist base but that proved unhelpful; they were widespread and the cell held no defining features of climate or location. You had tried calling out to see if anyone else was around. Each time, you were met with your own echo. 

You stilled, hearing footsteps approach you. A Separatist guard opened your cell door, roughly pulling you out. You yelped, legs not cooperating after so long of sitting in the cramped cell. He led you into another room that was barely brighter than your own. Sizing up the guard, you felt fear creep in. No matter how hard you tried to banish your anxieties, knowing they’d only serve to lessen your already shaken focus, it was sometimes impossible. 

“Tell us which planets are deserting.” He commanded.

You met his stare evenly, refusing to let your fear betray you. There was absolutely no chance you’d tell him anything. As soon as the Separatists learned which planets were thinking about joining the Republic, they’d send armies to wipe them out immediately. You refused to let that happen.

“Fine. Be that way.” The man pulled his fist back and sent it into your cheek, the impact sending sparks of pain throughout your entire body. He brought his foot up, kicking you in the gut and you fell harshly onto the floor. He grabbed you by your hair, hoisting up your body as if it were a ragdoll. You gathered your strength and spit in his face, enjoying the way his smug look disappeared. In retaliation, he slammed you into the wall, the impact making stars cloud your vision. 

The man released you and you fell, your consciousness already starting to detach from your body. You tried to reason with yourself, hoping logic would aid you. This is a trauma response. I’m not going to die. My body can take this. I will black out, but I will wake up again. They’re not going to kill me. They need me alive. I’m not going to die. I’m not going to die. Somehow, the hardest part is this was banishing the thoughts of that beautiful boy from your head. You knew that if you allowed yourself to think of him, to fathom how he would blame himself should this be your end, you would give in. 

Instead, you focussed on the physical pain you felt, on the rage you channeled to this guard. You hated how weak you felt, how exhausted you were. You allowed your mind to hone in on all the ways you could hurt this man, given you had your full strength. You let yourself hate yourself, appalled at how you couldn’t even fight back. With every punch he threw at you, you went further into your head, into the one place this man couldn’t touch. Eventually, your mind started spinning from dehydration, pain, and overexertion. All you could do was curl into a fetal position and hope it somehow stopped. 

“What do you mean you’re going to find her?” Obi-Wan said, running after Anakin.

“It’s been days, Obi-Wan, days. There are only so many Separatist bases in the galaxy and Y/N’s on one of them.”

“Anakin, don’t you think they’ve planned for a rescue mission?! This is Senator L/N we’re talking about! And they took her right before the vote, this was clearly a thought-out attack, stop acting like it’s simple!”

“It is simple! Those Separatist assholes have Y/N. And it’s been days. What if she thinks we forgot about her? What if she thinks we’ve given up? They could be doing fucking anything to her and I’m not going to let her stay there for another minute!”

“Anakin-” Obi-Wan began but Anakin waved him off.

“I’m sorry, Master. But if the Council won’t do anything, I will.”

“Anakin, the Council is trying! They just don’t have enough troops right now to send a full rescue mission after one Senator. They just want a few more days, then some troops should be back from their missions and you can have your full battalion.” Obi-Wan took a breath and lowered his voice, empathy for his friend clear in his words. “I know you love her. I want her back, too, you know. I’ve grown quite fond of her; her friendship is quite dear to me. All I’m asking is you be careful and think this through.”

“Believe me, I have thought this through. I wouldn’t do anything to put her in danger, we both know that. And while a few days doesn’t seem like much to the Council, we’ve seen the harm these Separatists can inflict in far less. Listen, it might not be the strongest plan I’ve ever made but, if it’s between a semi-formed plan and none at all, the choice is already made.”

With that, Anakin jumped into his ship and took off into the night. Obi-Wan sighed, leaning his head into his palm. He knew how much you meant to him and he knew of Anakin’s frustration with the Council. They moved slowly, wanting to figure out every angle before jumping into a decision. While Anakin was a brilliant strategist, he tended to act impulsively when someone he loved was in danger. As Anakin traveled further and further from Coruscant, the older Jedi could only hope that the both of you returned home quickly and safely. 

Anakin looked at his ship’s display and cursed when he realized he was low on fuel. He’d been piloting for hours and there was still no sign of you. He was searching out for you with the Force and, still, nothing. Finally, he felt a faint energy pulse through the Force. He followed it to what was supposed to be an old abandoned Separatist base, concerned by how weak your lifeforce felt. 

He parked the ship and got out carefully, trying not to alert anyone to his presence. He pulled out his lightsaber but was careful not to ignite it. He saw an open door and ran through it, relief blinding him as he felt your energy grow stronger with each step he took. He turned the corner and saw a crumpled body on the floor of a tiny cell.

No, Anakin thought, it can’t be her. 

Without thinking, Anakin ignited his lightsaber, wanting to use the light to discern if the figure was truly you. The noise bounced off the walls and startled you awake. He mentally cursed himself and instinctively turned off the saber, not missing the even louder noise it made with it turned off. He inwardly facepalmed, realizing if he hadn’t alerted the guards before, they sure as hell knew now. 

You blinked groggily, wincing at your immense injuries and bruises. You remembered passing out while that asshole beat you and now you-

Wait, You thought, is that a fucking lightsaber?

You knew you must have heard it wrong, there’s no way the Council would have approved a relief mission this quickly. Further, there is no way it would consist of just one Jedi. 

Suddenly, the lightsaber re-lit, illuminating your boyfriend’s face. His determined expression grew stronger as he noticed the 10 guards surrounding him and pointing their blasters directly at his head. You smiled. He could take out ten guards with his eyes closed. You called to him in shock, hardly believing your eyes. He looked at you and immediately widened his eyes as he saw a guard come up behind you and point a blaster directly at you from outside your cell. 

“Lightsaber on the floor, Jedi, or the girl dies.” The guard growled. 

He looked at you in anguish and you could tell he was already beating himself up for “messing up” your escape plan. You shook your head, hoping he understood your message: this isn’t your fault. 

“Anakin don’t-” You couldn’t even finish the sentence before his weapon was on the floor. He put his hands on his head. As they grabbed him, you stood in helpless silence as they threw him in the cell beside you. They locked the doors and, once again, you were in darkness. 

You desperately crawled to the edge of your cell, trying to reach out to him. He was doing the same and when you felt his fingertips against yours, you almost started sobbing. You weren’t alone anymore.

“You came for me.” Your voice was soft, disbelief lacing your words. 

“Of course I did, my love.”

Then, as if everything finally registered in your brain, you reached out and tried to slap his arm. “Anakin, what about the Council? They’ll kill you when they realize you went on a rescue mission, alone, and without approval! Ani, the only thing keeping me going in here was knowing that you were safe! And now you’ve gotten yourself thrown right next to me, no weapons, no light, no food, no water, no escape! What the fuck are we going to do?!”

Anakin had opened and closed his mouth multiple times throughout your speech, trying to find a way to plead his case but was left without one. 

“I just wanted to save you.” The grief in his voice made you sigh and take a step back. This was your Anakin you were talking about. Your safety was his priority, always. Besides, doing all this because he was afraid for you? You couldn’t possibly stay mad. You smiled, despite yourself. Anakin. You thought, slightly shaking your head. 

“Fuck, I love you. Is it selfish that there’s a small part of me that’s glad you’re here with me?” You said, breaking the silence. 

Anakin breathed out a sigh of relief, glad you weren’t upset with him anymore. “Not at all, my love. So long as it isn’t bad that my least favorite part of this is not being able to see or kiss you properly because of this damn darkness.”

You chuckled, lacing your fingers with his once again. “You wouldn’t want to see me right now.”

Anakin froze. “Y/N? What are you talking about?” His voice was serious, clipped. He knew you would try and make it seem less than it was. You winced, realizing there was no way to lie your way out of this one.

“Just what the Separatists would call aggressive negotiations, I presume.”

“How bad?”

“It’s fine, Ani, I promise. Let’s just focus on getting out of here, okay?”

Anakin took a deep breath, collecting himself. “Alright. But as soon as we get back you’re going to a medical droid.”

You groaned. “Anakin I hate-”

“I know you hate the medical droids. But that’s only because they always rat you out when you try and lie to me about the extensiveness of your injuries.”

“You lie about how bad your injuries are, too! Remember that one time you came back from Kamino?!”

Anakin laughed, despite himself. “You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?”

“You were literally bleeding from the head! And you said, and I quote, ‘it’s just a scratch’” Every time you thought back to that day, you were incredulous. 

“Alright, alright! Let’s just focus on getting out of here.”

“That’s my line!”

“Y/N,” He warned.

You smiled. Maker, you missed him. You honestly didn’t think that anyone else would have you laughing while you were beaten and captured. 

“Okay. What’s the plan?” Anakin said, back to the matter at hand.

You lowered your voice, leaning toward his cell so you could talk without being heard. “I snuck a knife in with me and I’ve been able to keep it a secret. Now that you’re here, it might actually come in handy. The problem was that I couldn’t stab anyone because no one would come into the cell. I need you to get them here. Push them against the side of your cell, the one closest to me, and I’ll stab them. Then while they’re hurt, you run out, unlatch my cell, and we’ll go.”

“I’m dating a fucking genius!” You could just about hear the smile in his voice. 

You smirked. All things considered, you were pretty proud of yourself. 

“When do you want to do this?”

“They bring daily food and water rations in the morning, I think? I can’t exactly tell what time it is, they’ve kept it so dark and isolated. Regardless, the next time they come by I need you to get them in here. They normally just leave the food outside and push it under the door.”

Anakin could hear the disorientation in your words and wanted nothing more than to be able to see you, to be able to hold you and reassure you that it would all be alright. 

“Okay, angel. Got it.”

“Anakin?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you for coming to get me. It’s really good to hear your voice.”

“Always, my love.”

Both of you silenced when you heard those footsteps. You smiled for the first time as you heard them. We’re going to get out of here.

“Yeah, that’s a great idea, Y/N! This brick in here is loose!” Anakin announced loudly. You bit your cheek to suppress a smile as you watched Anakin catch the guard’s attention.

“What did you say, Jedi?!”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Anakin responded, dramatically feigning innocence. 

The guard huffed and you internally cheered as he roughly opened the door. He walked over to your boyfriend, keeping the blaster pointed at him. As soon as the guard’s attention shifted to the “loose” brick, Anakin used the force to knock the blaster out of his hand and push him against the wall of the cell where you slashed his Achilles tendons. 

The guard howled in pain and you knew you had to work quickly if you were to get out of here before the rest of the Separatists found you. Anakin fumbled with the latch on your cell, the immense darkness making it difficult. Finally, he got it open and ushered you out. The both of you took off in a run and he gripped your hand with his metal one as you did so. 

You immediately stopped as you felt his hand roughly pulled from yours. 

“We’ve got you now, Skywalker” The guard said.

“Y/N, you ready?”

You blinked, unsure what he was referring to. Then, you heard an object whipping through the air and on instinct shot your hand out, catching it. You ignited Anakin’s lightsaber that he had summoned to you with the Force, it’s signature buzz making you feel powerful beyond words. 

The light caught you off guard and you squinted until your eyes adjusted. You saw Anakin held back by two guards. Hearing faint footsteps, you took off in a run. Anakin ducked as you swung wildly, hitting and taking out both guards.

“You done holding us up?” You said, extending your hand toward him once more and passing him his lightsaber. 

Anakin smiled, accepting it. “My sincerest apologies.” 

You both ran, hand-in-hand, until you finally made it to the exit.

“What?” You said, as Anakin stopped abruptly and looked at you, panicked. 

“The ship! It’s out of fuel!”

“It’s what?!”

“I-” Anakin and you stared at each other, flickers of doubt coming into your gaze. You can’t believe that you’d been able to escape for nothing. 

“Anakin! Y/N!”

You whipped your head around at the sound and were met with another ship a few meters down, Obi-Wan piloting it.

“Well? Are you coming, or what?” You and Anakin looked at each other in shock before taking off in a sprint, one guard now close behind you. 

He started shooting and Anakin pulled out his lightsaber, deflecting some of the shots. As he focused on that, you pulled your knife back out of your boot and sent it flying into the guard’s chest, effectively stopping his pursuit. 

Anakin smirked at you, awestruck. You shrugged before jumping into the ship, extending your arm to Anakin and helping to pull him up with you. You entered and immediately leaned against the wall of the ship, relief coursing through you. You laughed and Anakin joined in. He immediately pulled you into him, kissing you hard. 

He broke away from the kiss, looking at you with adoration. “You are a fucking badass!! You’ve never even held a lightsaber and between that and your fucking tiny knife you took out four guards!! I didn’t even get any! I’m not going to lie, Y/N, I’m a bit jealous.”

You laughed, leaning into him but wincing. As the adrenaline wore off, your pain was suddenly quite palpable. He noticed and pulled back, scanning your face and body. 

His smile fell as the extent of your injuries sunk in. Your busted cheek, scratched face, and ripped clothing that exposed some of your many bruises across your torso and limbs were overwhelming. 

“You kids alright in there?” Obi-Wan said, walking in from the cockpit. His smile died on his face as well as he took in your form.

“I’m alright, guys. It’s not as bad as it looks.” You said dismissively.

“That doesn’t look like nothing!” Anakin shot back. 

Obi-Wan looked at you apologetically. “Anakin’s right, Y/N. Please, rest. We’ll be back to Coruscant soon.” 

Coruscant! The Senate! “My speech!! Fuck, I had to present my speech! I’ve been gone, what, a week? They’ve probably already voted, Kriff.”

Obi-Wan shook his head. “They decided to suspend the vote until you were back, Senator. They truly care for you and your policies.”

Your heart swelled at Obi-Wan’s words. You looked into Anakin’s eyes and saw that he agreed with the statement full heartedly. He took your hand and gently ran his thumb up and down its back. 

“Rest, my love.” He whispered to you, coaxing you to lie down on the coach and pulling off his Jedi cloak. He wrapped it around you as a makeshift blanket, smiling as you pulled it closer to you and drifted off. 

Obi-Wan walked up to Anakin and placed his hand on his shoulder. “Let’s leave her be, okay?”

“I don’t want her to wake up when I’m not here.”

The elder Jedi nodded in understanding. “She’s exhausted, she won’t awaken until we get back to the temple, I assure you. And if she does, you’ll just be in the other room.”

Anakin looked at you once more before smoothing the hair back from your face and gently placing a kiss on your forehead. He let his palm run down your cheek before he finally pulled himself away and walked into the cockpit with Obi-Wan. 

“So, how did you plan pan out?”

Anakin looked at his former Master, unamused. “I think you already know. How’d you know to come get us, anyway?”

“Well, when you didn’t come back or even attempt to contact the Council for over a day I assumed something had happened. I tracked your ship.”

Anakin nodded. “If not for Y/N, we’d probably both be dead.”

Obi-Wan laughed. “I heard! Four guards?! You’ve found yourself a good one.”

Anakin smiled. No words were needed, everyone knew that was completely and utterly true.

------

if you would like to join my taglist, it is linked on my pinned! please dm me if you would like to be taken off. if your username is crossed out, it is because, for some reason, i couldn’t tag you <3

general tags:

@saltybreaddream @buckysbeloved @lolquarth

anakin tags:

@anakinswhore @kennedywxlsh @coldlilheart @adamgetawaydriver @chokemeanakin @gayidioot @starwars-whore @katelynnwrites @haydens-moles @serpntines @anakinlove @rowley-with-ackerman @dexthtoyounglings @babykinskywalker @cluelessgurl @april-showers-and-flowers @astxrias @beiroviski @captainshazamerica @alyssa-skywalker