#will continue to think about my sleeve to help push my forward!

[dabilove27]

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[ratskinsuit]

Can you make a dom reader with Valentino or Lucifer? Here's some ideas if you'd like Valentino: Something about rubbing and massaging his fur Lucifer: Something about being stressed about work and just wanting to be fucked until he can't think anymore. Thank you if you choose to do this :D (Sorry if it came off as rude, this is my first request with anyone)

Till I Feel Better

Lucifer x Gn!reader

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“Poor Lucifer has been so stressed and pent up recently, so he does the best thing he can think of, and comes to you to help him relax.”

Tags: Sub!Lucifer, Dom!Reader, Whimpering and moaning, Praise, Lucifer getting his brains fucked out of him, blow jobs/oral sex, slight dry humping

A/N: Since no gender was specified I went with gn. I tried to just do you riding him because it’s possible for any gender, I’m very sorry if it’s not what was asked. This is literally just him getting fucked. Very little plot.

MDNI

———————————————————————

You were in the library, reading a book. You sat at your normal spot on a couch. humming softly with your legs kicked up on one of the cushions. You turn the page and hear footsteps coming from the entrance.

You look up to see Lucifer looking around for something, and his eyes land on you and he smiles.

You give him a smile back and bookmark the page you were on and set the book on the side table next to you. He walks over with a smile still on his face.

You sit up and greet him. “Hey Luci, how was your day honey?” You ask as he comes closer, once he’s close enough giving him a quick cheek kiss.

He blushes at the kiss like it’s his first, even though you two have been together for years, yet you don’t mind it, finding it quite cute.

“Ah, stressful, but I’m very glad to see you.” He says, you move your feet from the other side of the couch so he can sit there, he hums in delight, taking a seat next to you.

“Oh yeah?” You ask, leaning to him, running a hand through his hair.

He sighs and leans into it your touch. “J’st a lot of paperwork.” He says, smiling softly at you, instant hidden in his eyes, yet the motive not yet clear.

You lean over to him and give him a kiss, and he kisses back almost instantly.

You two stay there for a couple moments, before you try to lean away slightly, but he leans forward, stopping you from breaking the kiss.

You go along with it for a minute, after a couple moments you find yourself laying down with him straddling you. The kisses becoming more heated.

Drool slowly starts dripping down from his lips, you notice him panting and whimpering in between kisses.

You feel his hips twitch a bit, still clothed, he begins to rut against you, as his whimpers begin to turn into louder whines.

You lean back to pull away, but Lucifer tries to follow you to continue the kiss, but you softly push him back.

Hes panting hard, drool running down his chin, his cheeks very red, his eyes half lidded and his dick obviously very hard on his pants, a small wet spot already forming. He wipes the drool with his sleeve, looking at you with with need.

“Well someone’s pent up.” You say, stroking his cheek as he whines, jutting against you again, before you hold down his hips, earning you a distressed whimper.

“P-…please.. n’ so… want you.. p—ease…” He begs, kissing you desperately inbetween words.

You gently push him away. Before he could protest, you shove him down, so you are straddling him now.

He grips you waist, a desperate look on his face. “Mn p..please..”

You unbutton a couple of his shirt buttons. “Want me to care of you honey?” You coo, and he nods quickly.

You laugh a bit and finish unbuttoning, running your hand up and down his abs.

“P-please…! Mhm.. don’t tease me…” He whines, shuddering as your hand catches on the waist of his pants.

“Don’t worry handsome I’m gonna take care of you.” You murmur, unzipping his pants and pulling them down, as your partner squirms underneath you.

You stroke his cheek, pulling down his underwear, presenting his already hard and leaking cock, red at the tip. You glance at him to see his staring at you, desperately.

Pumping it a couple times, you lean down, teasing the tip a bit with a little swipe of your tongue, earning you a jolt. “Nnno t-easing…” Lucifer begs.

You slowly begin to take him in your mouth, a glance up letting you see his eyes begin to roll back into his head, his chest already heaving.

Slowly but surely you take his to the base, before you begin bobbing up and down, Lucifer’s hands flying to your hair, his hips stuttering subconsciously.

You don’t mind though, humming around him, knowing it drives him crazy. “Ngh h-agh.. fuuu- plea- darling… hah…” He squirms and writhes above you.

You go from speeding up to slowing down, still teasing him slightly. His cries filling the library, anyone who would walk past knowing exactly what is happening. Not that Lucifer would let them live after that.

Your hands play and knead his balls, your tongue massaging him. Drool is running down his chin by now, eyes trying to stay focused on you. Tears are on the edge of his eyes as he tries to desperately tries to keep them back.

“Co- ah.. hon- g’nna cum… pleas-ah!” He whines, trying to alert you to his upcoming, yet quick orgasm. You speed up, determined to make him cum, not minding that it’s so fast.

With a cry, Lucifer arches, cumming deep down your throat. You swallow, a bit dripping from your mouth. You sit up, looking at the fucked out expression on his face.

Smiling, you look at the panting, wrecked man infront of you. You push his hair out of his eyes, before sticking your fingers in his mouth.

As soon as you do that, he begins sucking sloppily, still experiencing aftershocks from his orgasm, spit running down your fingers.

Once you belive they are wet enough, you unbutton your own pants, with the help of Lucifer, you pull them down.

You reach behind you and slowly stick a finger in your entrance, hissing at the intrusion. After a couple moments you stick another in.

Lucifer watches lustfully, his cock already hard again, watching you piston your fingers in and out of yourself.

When you are stretched out enough, you pull them out, and line yourself up with lucifers dick, before going down on him sharply, bottoming out instantly.

You must admit it did hurt a tad, the shock a bit much. But your partners reaction priceless. As soon as you drop down. his nails dig into the couches armrest, tearing it up. His eyes roll back into his skull, face completely red. Hair tangled and messy. He heaves and lets out half moans and whimpers. Not quite being able to decide whether to beg or catch his breath.

However, he doesn’t get much of a choice as you begin bouncing up and down on him, setting a brutal pace right away.

He chokes on his spit, writhing underneath you, hands scrambling to find something to grab onto. Settling on your waist.

He begs and moans loudly, still sensitive from his previous orgasm. “Pleaseee fuckfuckfu- dar-darling.. ngh- ha.” He has his eyes shut as you bounce up and down on him, tears running down his cheeks from overstimulation.

He babbles mindlessly, letting himself go, not caring who hears. You giggle, panting above him “Come on.. ahm.- handsome, you can let yourself go… g-go- go ahead baby..” Your nails dig into his shoulders, driving him crazy.

Your orgasm comes to you quickly, having already been pent up today, just not showing it.

“Mhng- c’mmon - ah-ah-fuckfuckk ple-ase c-um with m- ba-baby…” Lucifer begs, his peak approaching rapidly.

After a couple moments he arches, and you squeeze your eyes shut as you two climax together. Shuddering above him, you look down to see him absolutely fucked out.

You smirk, taking a couple deep breathes. “Come.. on pretty boy, you can take more.” You say, before you begin to bounce again…

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A/N: I have a bit of writers block hehe, so this took me so long to get out and I apologize! But I hope you still enjoyed! I will be working on the other requests in my inbox now so If you requested I will be working on it soon, because I am on a basis where I go in order of when it has been sent in.

REQUESTS ARE OPEN

[multi-fandoms-posts]

We enter Charles's House again. When we found Raven, Erik wanted to kill her. Both have disappeared without a trace.

Charles collapses. "Charles!" I say and run to his side. "What happened?" asks Logan. "Why can't he walk?" asks Logan. "He needs his serum," says Hank. "I can hear them," says Charles, panicking. "I know, it's ok," says Hank, and I help him to support Charles against the wall. "I'll get everything," says Hank and starts walking. Charles holds both hands to his head. "Hey, hey, pull yourself together. It's not over yet," says Logan, and Charles suddenly looks at him. "You don't believe it yourself," he says. "How do you know that?" asks Logan. "The weaker they get," says Charles, pointing to his legs, "the stronger this gets," and points to his head. "They're all coming back," says Charles, covering his ears. "Charles, look at me," I say and put my hand on his cheek. Charles looks at me. "I want it to stop," he begs. "I know, baby," I whisper. "But you're so much stronger than this," I say, brushing a few loose strands of hair from his face. I lean forward and kiss him gently.

Focus on me, baby.

I'm not strong enough. Comes it from him.

Yes, you are. You are Charles Xavier, the one who founded the X-Men, the one who taught us to fight for mutants. I love you, Charles, and whether you're in a wheelchair or not, I will never leave you, never!

While we were communicating like this, we never broke the kiss.

After a few moments we pull apart and I put my forehead against his. "Whatever you decide, I'm here for you," I smile and pull away from him. Charles looks at me briefly before rolling up the sleeve of his shirt. "Look, I... I'm still here, and she's still out there," Logan says. "But we need your help, Charles. But not like this, I need you. We can't track down Raven, not like this, not without your powers," Logan continues, and Charles looks at him. "I made it a little stronger because they missed a can," Hank comes over to us and gives Charles the injection.

I know Charles will make the right choice. "Charles," says Logan.

Charles looks first at Logan, then at me. I smile gently at him.

Charles pushes the tip of the syringe in and looks at Logan and then at me. Charles seems to be thinking about it because he pulls the syringe out again and puts it to the side. I give him a gentle smile. I know it's not easy for him.

"Hank, do me a favor. Please take me to my study," says Charles, and Hank supports him and we slowly walk to his study.

Once upstairs, Hank opens the door and reveals Charles' wheelchair. "Are you really sure?" asks Hank. "No, absolutely not," replies Charles.

Hank and I help him into the wheelchair. I kneel down next to him. "I'm proud of you, Charles," I say and give him a kiss. "I'm not forcing you to stay with me if it's too much for you," Charles says. I look at him in surprise. "I'm not leaving you, Charles," I say. "Yes, but..." "No buts, Charles, never. I love you," I smile. "I love you too," he smiles.

[chaotic-orphan]

Intoxicating Fear (XVII)

Unforeseen Side-effect

Part One // Masterpost // Continued from here

~*~*~*~*~*~

Kit sat up with an effort, his entire body tensing as he moved. Aftershocks still singed his nerves as he moved, eliciting sharp hisses of pain.

What the hell was that thing, that red lightning? And why did he only get it around Ambrose?

“I assume that it’s a wild manifestation of your abilities,” Ambrose said from the kitchen. Kit rolled his eyes, about to curse the villain out if a sudden wave of nausea didn’t hit him and stop him in his tracks.

The world was spinning, lethargically slow, and closing his eyes didn’t exactly help matters. What the fuck was that red lightning? Why did it leave him so… weak?

Kit stopped beside the couch, pressing his back against it while he caught his breath and stifled the whine that threatened to spill from the back of his throat.

“You are as pale as a ghost,” Ambrose told Kit with a smirk. “Except for those eyes of course. And your veins.”

Kit’s eyes widened. His veins? What was Ambrose talking about now? Kit brought his hands in front of his eyes, any colour left in him draining as he saw the same angry, neon red colour had permeated all of his veins. Kit rolled up his sleeves, and there they were. Then the cuffs of his jeans, and the veins were there too.

“You’re like a walking glow-stick.”

“For fuck’s sake, just shut up.” Kit said with a groan, gfalling to his hands and knees and pushing himself to get up. He froze, hitting an invisible wall and plopped back down to his arse again. Red eyes met Ambrose’s black ones. “Can you let me stand up?”

I thought you told me to shut up, Ambrose’s voice sounded in Kit’s mind, the same stupid smirk on his same stupid face.

Kit banged his head against the couch with a groan. “You’re such a dickhead! You can give commands through thoughts! Why are you even here?! Why do you love to torture me?” Kit demanded, his voice turning hysterical. “Is this all part of Supervillain’s plan? To drive me mad too?”

The humour vanished from Ambrose’s face in the blink of an eye. “Do I look like I work well with others, Mallory?”

Kit blinked, his eyebrows pinching together, forming a furrow between. “What?”

Ambrose walked forward, closing the distance between them, stopping in front of Kit’s outstretched legs. “Do I look like I take orders from people?”

“No?”

“Then why,” Ambrose began, his voice darkening. “Would you think that I would throw my lot in with Supervillain of all people?”

Kit bent his knee and pushed himself into a straighter sitting position. He threw his hands up in a helpless gesture. “Then what the fuck were you doing on the docks that night?”

Ambrose’s features hardened. “The night I met you?”

“No, the other night on the docks.” Kit deadpanned.

“That wasn’t my fault,” Ambrose said with a shrug. “You can blame that preppy little water hero, what was her name again?”

“Tides.”

“That’s it,” Ambrose said with a click of his fingers. “Tides. The perfect foil to your electricity, Kit. Maybe I should bring her over someti—”

“If you touch her, I’ll fucking kill you.” Ambrose raised his brows, slightly taken aback. Maybe it was the vibrant crackle in his eyes or the echo in his voice, but something about him at that moment didn’t feel like Kit. It felt like something else. Something… wild.

“Promises, promises,” Ambrose said with a wave. “You can stand, Mallory. Clearly, we need to have a long overdue conversation.”

Ambrose walked back to the kitchenette, and grabbed two mugs from the cabinet preparing their coffee and tea. Kit slowly, achingly slow, got to his feet, his entire body zapped of energy. He dragged himself to his table and settled heavy into the chair, ignoring how breathless he was from such a light movement.

Ambrose joined him a few minutes later, neither of them speaking to each other. Ambrose set the coffee in front of Kit, and Kit said: “thanks.”

“Don’t mention it,” Ambrose told him lightly. Ambrose stood again and walked towards Kit, reaching out.

Kit flinched back, throwing his hands up, red eyes pleading. “No, Ambrose no more, please.”

“Relax, Mallory. I’m just undoing the tie.” Ambrose told him. He waited until Kit relaxed, his hands lowering, a wary glint in his eyes as Ambrose started forward again. He quickly undid the knot in the tie, Kit refusing to look at him, instead focusing on the wall behind him. He could smell Ambrose’s expensive cologne from the space between them. It smelled nice, but it was deathly silent.

It was awkward, to say the least.

Ambrose finished with a flourish, gently pulling the fabric from Kit’s throat, sending shivers down his spine. Ambrose folded the tie neatly as he sat down again opposite Kit. When his black eyes flicked up to Kit’s he let out a low whistle, his eyes going to the red bruise around Kit’s throat. It would fade in an hour or two.

“What?” Kit snapped.

A ghost of a smirk flashed over Ambrose’s lips as he picked up his steaming mug. “Let’s just say you have a necktie of your own, now.”

Kit rolled his eyes. “Oh fuck right off, Rosey.” Kit took his own mug and took a sip of the steaming black coffee. His arm spasmed as the liquid met his tongue and spilled coffee all over his arm. Kit hissed, cursing as he wiped the liquid off, humming the pain away.

Ambrose’s dark eyes narrowed over his cup. “Aftershock?”

Kit shook his head. “I don’t know what this is,” he said weakly.

“Hmm.” Ambrose set his mug down on the table, clasping his hands on the table in front of him. “In any case, we need to discuss your theory on Supervillain.”

“You said you’re not working for him.”

Ambrose didn’t hesitate. “Absolutely not, but I am interested to hear your theory.”

“That night on the docks,” Kit repeated.

“I didn’t start a fight with Tides on the dock, Kit. She started a fight with me. I was simply defending myself.”

“And I’m sure you forced her to radio for help, right?”

Ambrose blinked. “No.”

Kit scoffed. “Sure you didn’t.”

“No,” Ambrose said again, straightening his spine. “I didn’t. If I did, I would tell you, Mallory. I’m an honest man.”

“She radioed Superhero and I while we were fighting a fire Villain that was threatening to burn down the residential area in seventh.”

“I never told her to do anything like that, Mallory. I wanted a quiet night. Tides somehow recognised me, and then I had my fun with her.” A shadow of a smirk passed over Ambrose’s face. “Though she wasn’t half as fun as you were.”

Kit frowned. “But that night there was— it felt like there were a series of co-ordinated attacks across the city.”

“Except I didn’t attack your water hero. How many times must I repeat myself?”

“Sorry if you’re a little hard for me to trust right now, Rosey!” Kit growled, slamming his hand on the table. The red in his veins pulsed and burned brighter. Even the blood vessels inside his mouth were emitting light, as if he had just swallowed the sun. “All you’ve done since I’ve met you is torture me, use my own powers against me, broke into my apartment—”

“Kit—” Ambrose said, but sparks flew from Kit’s body as he continued, getting angrier and angrier. Burning hotter and hotter, the light getting brighter and brighter.

“Laughed at me while you beat me, terrorised my every waking moment, kidnapped me and tied me up so you could hurt me some more, or shall I go on?!” His voice crackling at the end like static over an old radio that had lost signal.

“Kit, you need to calm down.” Ambrose said softly, eyes weary at the sparks and heat that was coming off the hero in front of him.

“Wow, look at you, Rosey. How far we’ve come. You’re scared of me for once,” Kit said, planting his hands on the table and rising to his feet. “Good.”

Kit raised his hand, pointing his index finger at Ambrose and raising his thumb, curling his hand into a finger gun. Then he lowered his thumb with a soft: “pew.”

Ambrose went hurtling back against the wall to Kit’s room, cracking the plaster on impact. Ambrose groaned as he fell to the ground, forcing his eyes to focus, but his brain was fried. Everything was coming too slowly for him to react.

Kit stepped around the table, following the telepath. Each step sent jolts of energy through his limbs but Kit couldn’t help it. He kind of liked it. This raw power coursing through him. It made him feel in control.

He ignored the voice in the back of his head telling him to stop. That this was wrong, that this wasn’t him. Oh this was Kit alright. This was all of Kit’s bottled up emotions, finally breaking free and showing Ambrose who really had the power in their relationship.

Kit stopped in front of Ambrose, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt and yanking him to his feet. He shoved him against the wall, not shocking him, not yet. He just wanted to savour the look of fear in the villain’s face for once. The villain’s disheveled state, where strands of his perfect hair fell over his face, out of his control.

“Mallory, this isn’t you,” Ambrose told him.

Kit tilted his head. “Aww, is that really all you can think of in your defence, Rosey? It’s hard to think with electricity shocking your nervous system, isn’t it?”

“Kit—”

“Kit’s not home right now,” Kit cut in, chuckling darkly. The sound echoing in static across the apartment. “Or, well, he is. He’s me, I’m him. Let’s just say, his compassionate, heroic side isn’t steering the ship at the moment.”

Ambrose clenched his jaw. “Then which part am I speaking to?”

“The one that you created, Rosey.” Kit told him with a threatening purr. His smile widened as Ambrose paled. “The beaten, pathetic, powerless one that gathered every time you told us — not to use our powers. Every time Kit reached for them and couldn’t find them, guess what happened? I was born. A well of kinetic and potential energy, bubbling under the surface, safe in Kit’s subconscious.” Kit laughed and Ambrose flinched. “I liked you, Rosey. You just kept building, and building, and building me up until I spilled over. But y’know what? I like being in the driver seat. It’s fun being conscious.”

Ambrose didn’t know what to do as he stared at the monster in front of him. The monster that he created? Nobody had ever had side effects like this before, well, none that he of. Certainly not enough to make another personality emerge in the subconscious, but then again…

Ambrose set his mouth into a thin line. Kit was top of his class for a reason. Mentor chose him for a reason, and if Kit wasn’t lethal enough with just his skills his ability — electricity — was pure energy, pure force. It would take a lot for Kit to be able to control it, let alone suppress it. Ambrose vaguely recalled studying electricity in school, and all the different types of it.

No, that’s not what he should focus on.

His mind quickly poured over Kit’s words again until he found it, the important information. “Kit’s not home right now. Or well, he is. He’s me, I’m him. Let’s just say, his compassionate, heroic side isn’t steering the ship at the moment.”

Perfect. That meant all Ambrose had to do was reach in and pull the real Kit out to the forefront of his mind. Put him back in control.

Ambrose reached into Kit’s mind, quickly searching the strange cavern until he saw him. Not Kit, but a pulsing ball of blue electricity buried deep in the darkness.

“Mallory!” Ambrose called, his voice echoing in Kit’s mind. “Mallory wake—”

Ambrose screamed as he was pulled out of Kit’s head. It felt as if his body was burning under a stream of molten lava, singeing every nerve and fibre of his being. Every muscle seized and contracted, robbing every thought from his brain before eventually it stopped and he fell forward. His head fell onto Kit’s shoulder, his body riding out the aftershocks with a cry.

“Naughty, naughty Rosey. It’s rude to ask for someone else to join us when the fun’s only beginning! You get to play with Kit all the time, I never get to play with you.”

“Kit—” Ambrose said with a breath, his voice coming out weaker than he had ever heard it.

“Don’t worry. I know how much volts it takes to kill a human, and I only used a fraction of that on you, Rosey. See? We’re still friends! I would be nothing without you.” Kit grabbed Ambrose’s head and straightened him back against the wall. “So, how about we make this party really fun and use half the amount it takes to kill—“”

Kit shut up suddenly, stepping back. Ambrose slid heavy down the wall, mind racing. He had the right mind to glance up at Kit to see a resolute expression grace his lips.

“Ambrose, put me to sleep. Now! Fucking—” Kit dropped to his knees, screaming as red and blue sparks erupted around him. No, not around him. From him. Ambrose looked away, throwing his elbow up to shield his eyes. “AGGGGHHH! NOW! DON’T—”

Ambrose took a sharp breath and slammed his hand out. He reached into Kit’s mind and pulled the plug. Kit’s muscles went rigid, his arms dropping to his sides before he fell to the ground. Ambrose let out a gasp, falling forward to his hands and knees.

Ambrose sucked in a breath, his muscles trembling to keep him up. Fuck.

He pushed himself back onto his arse, eyes locked on the unconscious hero in front of him. His body still pulsed with energy, but at least he was out cold. Ambrose pressed a hand against his chest, still feeling the burn from Kit’s hand on his chest.

He glanced down, brows pinching together when he saw the char mark in the shape of a handprint on his shirt. Ambrose scoffed. “You little shit,” he said to Kit. “This shirt costs more than your apartment.”

Ambrose got to his feet with a groan. It has been a long time since somebody hurt him like that. Well, not counting all the times when Kit had surprised him. He let out a breath, that sounded eerily similar to a laugh, when he remembered Kit knocking him out and waking up tied up and gagged. Oh, those were the days.

He walked over to Kit’s coatrack by the door and rooted around in his overcoat pockets until his fingers touched the metal rings. He pulled them out and released them with a dull thunk.

He personally preferred not having to use Kit’s power dampeners. They weren’t exactly a tool that Ambrose needed. Besides, it was much more fun to force Kit to inhibit his own ability, but Ambrose had told him not to use his powers. He had done that, and somehow, the other Kit somehow managed to access his electricity to overpower Ambrose.

Ambrose walked over to the Hero, staring down at him with something unreadable crossing his expression. This was the kid that Mentor took under his wing, huh? He could see why Mentor would choose him, of all the heroes in the world, never mind the city, he’s the Hero Ambrose chose too, coincidentally.

Entirely coincidental.

It was strange.

There was something about Kit, something about him that drew people in like moths to a flame, but looking down at him now, Ambrose took in how young Mallory looked.

He was everything Ambrose wasn’t; where Ambrose was pale, Kit had a honeyed tan to his skin, and where Ambrose was dark haired, Kit’s hair was light brown. Not to mention the differences between Kit’s ridiculous haircut and Ambrose’s. Honestly, would it kill him to run a comb through his hair every once in a while?

Then again Mentor always had a soft spot for broken things, and who could ever compete with some scrappy orphan?

Ambrose sighed as he crouched in front of Kit, reaching forward to grab the boy’s wrists. A jolt of electricity passed through Ambrose’s arm and he cursed, yanking his hand back and shaking it.

“Even unconscious you’re still a pain in the ass,” Ambrose muttered, carefully reaching forward again and snapping the cuff around Kit’s wrist without touching him. The brightness in his veins dimmed and went out completely after Ambrose snapped the cuff on other his wrist.

He touched Kit’s hand again, testing the waters, and there was no shock or jolt that ran through him. Good. Ambrose got to his feet, satisfied that Kit wasn’t a live wire anymore and walked towards Kit’s bedroom. He opened the wardrobe and grabbed one of Kit’s sweaters, then paused, stretching the fabric.

God. The boy didn’t look this skinny. Ambrose had broad shoulders, something he was proud of, but at the moment he wished he was the same build as the young hero. He put the sweater back in and pulled out a larger hoodie. It was ugly but it’d do.

All of his insulators were back at his house, which meant he’d have to take Kit back too. He needed answers. He needed to understand why Mentor chose Kit, why he took him, why he raised him to follow in his footsteps.

He needed to know why Kit thought Ambrose was working with Supervillain. Too many unanswered questions for his liking, too many variables, and all of them hinged on the volatile hero in front of him. Well, Ambrose never got to where he was today without a little hard work.

At least, he noted, it was dark outside, so he could throw the unconscious hero into the backseat without too many questions.

*~*~*~*~*

Continued here

Orphanage roll-call (lmk if you wanna be added or removed): @beatenbruisedandbloody @404lunar1216 @whumpyworld @nameless-beanie e @andithewhumper @annablogsposts @whumpasaurus101 @0eggdealer @rejectedbytheempty @sleepy-pearl @n3rv0usn0v4 @whumpatize-me-captain @sunshiline-writes @burningkittypoet @honeyed-euphrates @sacredwrath @theonewithallthefixations @acer-gaysimpstuff @m3rakii @xxgalgurlxx @princess-bubble-blossom @blood-enthusiast @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @andtheysaidspeaknoww @dutifullykrispyland @mononeigbour @tippytappytyping @stefaniesblogs @shinokoro @bedtimescenarios @whatwhump

[skbeaumont]

Texas Heat | Joel x Reader Series

Chapter 5 – Intensity

Series masterlist

Chapter Summary: Tuesday comes round, and it's all you can do to hold on tight and ride it out. Rating: Explicit Tags/warnings: flirting, sexual tension, smut, age difference (reader is 25, Joel is 37), AU!No outbreak, oral (m & f receiving), PIV. Word Count: 3.4k

A/N: I am so sorry this chapter has been such a long time coming. Hopefully all the smut will make up for it?? Because this is literally 3.5k of pure filth.

“I think the problem is,” Gina tells you early Monday morning as she wipes down the counters, “I’ve just lost all my confidence since the divorce.” “Right,” You reply absently, catching Diana’s eye and smiling.

It’s just gone ten and the café is fairly quiet, a few customers sat in contented silence at spaced out tables. Gina’s been regaling you and Diana with tales of her love life, which as far as you can gather seems to mainly centre around lusting after the men who frequent the café, Joel included.

“Take that construction worker,” Gina continues, “you know, the one you live next to,” she adds to you, “dark hair, broad, real handsome.”

“Oh we know him.” Diana replies, raising a single eyebrow at you as you feel yourself flush.

You’ve already told her about Saturday night, about the way Joel kissed you against the wall of the Cuthbert’s house, his warm hands moulded to your curves like he never wanted to let you go.

“Well, I’ll bet if I just had the confidence to ask him, he’d love to take me to dinner. And I’ll bet we’d have a real nice time.” She offers a cringeworthy wink at you both, and it’s all you can do not to burst into laughter.

“Oh, I’m sure.” Diana replies, and you roll your eyes at her as she smirks back.

Gina continues in this vein for some time, her voice washing over you as you help Diana refill the coffee beans and clean up the machines. She stops talking abruptly, voice suddenly shifting into that familiar sickly-sweet lilt that has you spinning on your heel to see who’s just come in.

Joel’s wearing his toolbelt. There’s sawdust covering his black tee, biceps bulging at the sleeves, his dark jeans slung low around his hips. His hair is pushed back off his face, sawdust speckled in the dark curls there too, and he’s got a pair of safety goggles perched up on his forehead. Only he could make the whole ensemble look good, but it works so well that the sight of him makes your heart skip a beat, heat broiling up in your gut. Gina’s all smiles and simpering niceties, but Joel’s staring straight past her, his eyes locked on yours as he orders his coffee (Americano, no cream).

Gina hands you the receipt and tries to keep Joel engaged in conversation, but his attention is all on you, even as you turn to the machine to make the coffee.

“Hi, darlin’” He says, and the easy way one side of his mouth turns up into a lopsided grin makes your stomach flip.

“Hi,” you reply, hand pausing on the coffee grinder as you let yourself take in his mussed up hair and dishevelled attire. “Working hard?”

“Always am,” He says, resting a hip against the counter to lean closer to you.

Even with several feet between you you can smell the wood-chip scent of him; you don’t think anything’s ever smelt as good. He raises a hand, runs it through his hair to rake beading sweat off his forehead. You wonder absently what it would be like to press your tongue to the underside of his jaw, to lick the moisture from his skin there.

“How’s your day?” His voice breaks you out of your thoughts and you pull your eyes away from his jaw.

“Picked up in the last few minutes.” You say, and he lets out a huff of a laugh, drags his gaze over your face, his eyes dark despite the bright sunlight streaming in through the café’s windows.

“We still on for tomorrow?” He asks.

“Definitely. I hope Sarah’s looking forward to it.”

“Oh, she is. She can’t wait, in fact.”

This time it’s you who laughs, air rushing out of your chest in a higher-pitched giggle than you intended. You finish making Joel’s coffee, push it across the counter to him, leaving your hand around the cup so that his fingers brush yours as he reaches to take it.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, darlin’” He says, raising the cup to you in a goodbye salute and turning to leave.

When you turn back to your co-workers, they’re both staring at you. Gina’s mouth is slightly open, her brow furrowed, while Diana’s beaming, her eyes full of mischief. You shrug at them and start making the next coffee.

*****

Maths with Sarah on Tuesday turns into a movie on the sofa after dinner, bowls of popcorn on each of your laps, the low evening sun streaming into the lounge. Joel comes back halfway through, clattering into the kitchen and calling out his arrival.

“You two look like you’ve both been working hard,” he says, coming into the lounge, a grin playing on his face.

You can see from here that his grey t-shirt is damp with sweat, dark under the arms and along his sternum. Something flutters in your chest and you squeeze your thighs together, drag your eyes along his broad shoulders and down to the narrow cinch of his waist.

“Well, we did some equations,” Sarah tells him, pausing the film so that the picture flickers and jumps about on the screen, “but it was too hot to think very much.”

“You should try bein’ out in the sun layin’ concrete all day.” He replies, flopping down onto the sofa between you and Sarah, kicking his legs out to prop his boots up on the coffee table.

He smells like dust and sweat and something you’re starting to recognise as distinctly Joel, a warm, masculine scent that ignites a fire in your belly. Sarah unpauses the film, leans back in her seat to rest her head against the worn leather.

“Hi,” Joel says quietly under the sound of the movie, turning his head so that his face is a few centimetres from yours.

“Hi,” You reply.

His eyes are sparkling, brown almost swallowed up by the black of his pupils.

“Good day?” You ask.

“It’s picked up in the last few minutes,” He replies, and you grin at him, let your eyes trace the solid planes of his face, the gentle creases that line his eyes.

The film plays on. Joel’s denim-covered thigh is pressed against yours, the heat of his skin burning into your bare leg despite his jeans. Sarah’s engrossed in the action playing out on the television, but you and Joel are distracted, sneaking glances at each other like teenagers. His arm is a solid weight against your shoulder, the thick heft of his bicep impossibly firm and warm.  When the climax of the film happens you and Sarah both jump, each automatically shifting to crowd in against Joel. Your hand ends up pressed to his stomach, just below his bellybutton. He looks at you and you move your hand away quickly, all too aware of Sarah on the other side of him, giggling now that the tension has broken in the film.

When the credits roll Sarah yawns widely, stretching in her seat.

“Bedtime, baby girl,” Joel tells her, pushing her up off of the sofa and getting to his feet himself, “c’mon,” he says, “I’ll tuck you in.”

“Night,” Sarah says to you, yawning again and heading up the stairs.

“I’ll be down in a minute,” Joel tells you and you watch as he and Sarah disappear upstairs, their chatter fading as they go.

Alone in the lounge again, you look around and observe the domesticity of the house. Your trainers are by the back door next to Sarah’s battered Nikes, Joel’s work boots dwarfing both pairs on the mat. There’s a stack of magazines on the coffee table, Sarah’s old favourites and two new additions – a copy of Mathematics Today and Scientific America. You smile at the familiar covers, remembering how excited Sarah was to show you them a few hours ago, telling you that Joel helped her pick them out in the shop.

You look out over the drive to where Joel’s truck is parked. It’s only been a few short weeks since he picked you up at the airport, a stranger to you then but now someone whose very presence fills your chest with a kind of low, humming joy.

Joel’s hardly back down the stairs before his hands are on you, pulling you to him in the dim light of the lounge. He presses his lips to yours, sighs into your mouth like he’s a man drowning and you’re an oasis. You slide your tongue against his bottom lip and he opens up to you, lets you into the hot slick of his mouth, a groan swallowed in his throat as you thread your fingers into his hair, pushing your hips against his so that his belt digs into your stomach.

“I haven’t been able to stop thinkin’ about that kiss, darlin’,” He says as you pull at his t-shirt, fingers grasping the solid expanse of his chest. “the things I wanted to do to you, want to do to you.”

“Show me,” You say into his mouth, slotting your lips back together.

He walks you to the sofa, slumps down into it and pulls you into his lap so that you’re straddling his thighs. He looks so good like this, his face cast in the gentle glow of the table lamps, eyes dark and studying you intensely. You tug his shirt up, press your hands beneath it to the warm flesh of his stomach. He’s all muscle and hot skin, abdomen flexing as you graze your fingernails over his bellybutton as he takes your face in his hands, draws your lips back to his and kisses you soundly. His tongue slides against yours. Fire builds in your belly, hot and insistent.

Large hands running down over your shoulders and sides, Joel pulls you to him so that you shift in his lap, grinding down. The movement brings your inner thigh into contact with the hammer that’s hooked onto his toolbelt and you yelp, both laughing as he unclips the belt and pulls it off.

“I wanted you to keep that on,” You tease, grinning at him as you tuck a stray curl of his hair behind his ear.

He chuckles, the sound reverberating in his chest, deep and delicious. The next kiss is more insistent, his teeth pulling at your bottom lip, sharpness grazing soft skin. You shift in his lap again, press yourself closer to him, whimper at the friction that pulls at the apex of your thighs. He pulls back, runs the tips of his fingers under the hem of your t-shirt.

“Can I take this off?” He asks, and the earnestness of it, the desire that’s so clear in his eyes makes your stomach flip.

You nod, pulling the shirt up and over your head, letting it fall to the floor behind you. Joel’s eyes rake over your chest, his steady gaze tracing the curves of your breasts and hips. You should feel self-conscious, but his expression is rapture, his dark eyes wide and reverent.

“You’re the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen, darlin’” he says, grazing the backs of his fingers along your collarbone, down the centre of your breasts and over the band of your bra. You reach behind you to unclasp it, let it fall into your lap, breasts spilling out into Joel’s palms. He groans in the back of his throat, large hands kneading the soft flesh of you, searching out the bud of your nipples, pinching them between finger and thumb. Electricity shoots through you, white-hot pleasure that has slick pooling between your thighs. You cant your hips forward again, feel the hard line of his cock in his jeans, grin as Joel reacts by hissing through his teeth.

When he slides one hand over the crest of your ass and pulls you to him, hard, you both moan at the friction, hands suddenly scrabbling to remove more layers of clothing.

You stand to push your jeans down your legs, kicking them off as Joel unbuttons his flies. Instead of climbing back into his lap, you drop to your knees in front of him, run your hands up the thick trunks of his thighs and replace his shaking fingers with your own, dragging his jeans down until they pool at his ankles.

Clad only in a pair of tight-fitting boxers, Joel is a sight to behold. His chest is rising and falling rapidly, breath coming in short pants as you trace your fingertips up his thighs, watching the muscles in his shoulders and arms tense with each move you make. His cock twitches when you lick a deliberate stripe up the inside of his thigh, and he curses, face flushed.

“Christ, darlin’, you’re gonna kill me.” He breaths, and you grin up at him, slide your fingers into the waistband of his boxers before pulling them down.

His cock slaps up onto the tight muscles of his stomach, long and thick, head already beading precum. You waste no time wrapping a hand around the thick heft of him, placing a gentle kiss on the tip. When you let your tongue dart out to taste him Joel curses again, “shit,” – the worda desperate prayer, distorted by the desire in his voice. Then you take him into your mouth, jaw aching with the size of him, working your hand around the part that won’t fit, and Joel sags against the couch, head rolling back with pleasure. It sends fire rushing through you to watch the effect you have on him. He lifts his head, meets your eyes with his own and you use your tongue to trace the delicate place just behind the head of his cock, moving back just slightly when this causes his hips to twitch involuntarily.

“You feel so good,” he says, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear, “your mouth feels like heaven, baby.”

You hum around him, use your free hand to gently trace circles into the tight skin of his stomach, grazing your nails up and over his chest. When you take him deep into your throat, swallowing around him he bucks into your mouth and pulls back.

“Not gonna last like this,” he warns, moving back, away, “fuck, darlin’, I want to make you feel good, c’mon.”

He pulls you up and off his cock, lays you back against the worn couch, settles himself between your open thighs and drags your legs up so that they’re resting on his shoulders. You’re sure your underwear is soaked through, and Joel confirms it when he drags a knuckle against your core, tells you how wet you are, whispers it into your thigh like a prayer.

“Gonna let me make you feel good, darlin’?” He asks, slipping the crotch of your panties to the side so that he can run two thick fingers through your folds.

“Please, Joel,” Is all you can reply, words dying on your lips when he leans forward and buries his face in your cunt.

He eats you out like he’s a man dying of thirst and you’re an oasis. Runs his tongue against your clit in a way that has your legs shaking in seconds, then pulls back, presses his aquiline nose into the centre of you, uses his tongue to lick a broad stripe over you. He sucks your clit into his mouth, grins against you as you tell him “yes, there, right there,” and keeps up a steady pace that has you canting your hips against him. When he presses a thick finger into your cunt and curls it just so you feel yourself coming suddenly, the coiling tension snapping and fire burning through you right to your fingertips.

“You look so good when you come,” he tells you as you come down from your high, pressing kisses into the trembling flesh of your thighs.

He pulls you up from the sofa, holds you to him.

“Upstairs?” You say into the side of his throat, gasping when he bends suddenly to pick you up, cradling you to his chest like you weigh nothing.

He takes the stairs two at a time, opens the door to his bedroom with a flick of his wrist and lays you on the unmade bed. The first thing you notice is that sheets smell like him – like wood shavings and mint shower gel and that characteristic Joel smell that you’ve come to love so much. Then he’s laying himself over you, pressing your bodies together so that you’re a tangle of limbs, mouths seeking each other out. The kiss is somehow gentle and desperate at once, his teeth grazing your lip before his tongue soothes you.

“Joel, please,” you say, hands tracing the broad span of his shoulders, nails digging in when he hitches his hips, drags the hot line of his cock against your hip, drags his thigh up so that it pulls against the seam of your cunt.

“What do you want, darlin’?” He asks against the side of your neck.

“You,” You tell him, and he laughs, voice husky with pleasure.

“You want my cock?” He says, dragging his teeth over the juncture of your shoulder.

“Yes, god, yes, please.”

“Alright, baby, alright.”

He pushes himself up onto his knees, leans across to pull a condom out of the bedside table. He opens it with his teeth, eyes fixed on your body spread out against the dark duvet and rolls it on. Then he’s lining himself up, leaning back over you to whisper soothing nothings into your ear as he shifts his hips forward just slightly. The head of him catches against your cunt, dips inside so that both of you gasp. He’s big – bigger than you’re used to – and the stretch is intense as he cants his hips forward into yours. You whimper into the side of his throat, clench your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck.

“You okay?” He asks as he stills, bottoming out and pushing himself up onto his elbows to look at you.

“Yeah,” You say, pulling him back to you so that you can kiss him, pulling back to add, “move, please.”

“Just give me a second,” He says, letting his head drop to your shoulder and you giggle despite yourself, press your lips to the shell of his ear. “You’re – fuck – you feel really good.”

It shouldn’t be so hot, the way that you can reduce him to such a babbling mess just with the slightest clench of you cunt around him but it is, it makes something hot and insistent bubble up in your belly. Joel drags his nose against the column of your throat, bites into the flesh there and then finally – finally – pulls his hips back and presses back inside.

The friction is delicious. He settles into a steady rhythm, every thrust of his hips dragging the head of his cock against that spongy spot inside of you that has you seeing stars. His moans against your neck are delicious, peppered with phrases of praise that make you clench around him: “fuck, good girl, so fucking tight, I could stay in this pussy forever, baby.”

He slows again, pushes himself up onto his knees, keeping his cock in you. His eyes are fixed on the place where you meet, where the wet, tight heat of you pulls him in. He flicks his dark gaze up to your face, expression dazed and pussy-drunk. He leans down to slide his tongue against yours briefly, then sits back up and continues to fuck you, slowly, placing a large hand on your stomach and expertly circling your clit with his thumb. The pleasure is unbelievably intense, the drag of his cock inside you combined with the white hot pressure of his thumb, and in seconds you’re convulsing under him.

“You gonna come on my cock, darlin’?” He asks, voice breaking on the last word, and it’s enough to push you over the edge again, vision whiting out as pleasure overwhelms you.

You feel yourself clenching around Joel’s cock and with a few more sloppy thrusts he’s there too, callused fingertips digging into your hips as he comes inside you, cock twitching, breath hitching in his throat. He collapses onto you, presses open-mouthed kisses against your flushed cheeks.

You lie still for a few more moments, each catching your breath. When he rolls off you he drags you with him, keeps you cradled to his chest as he pulls out. It’s hot in the bedroom but you don’t care, draping yourself over Joel’s chest, pressing yourself as close to him as you can.

Outside, the sky has turned dark. Joel traces circles into the skin of your shoulders, down your arms, presses kisses to the side of your head. The bed is a tangle of limbs and hot, damp flesh.

Yes, you think, the Texas heat is sure is intense.

Taglist: @mysterialee@amyispxnk @ghostofzion-blog @regalwhovianbrowncoat774 @sarahhxx03 @brittmb115 @merz-8 @marianastudiesart @moel-jiller @lizzie-cakes @kyloispunk @isalovesharryyy

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Yes, Mr President.

There's an endless amount of things you shouldn't do as the President of the United States. Defiling the Oval Office is definitely one of them.

Author's Note - oh boy. buckle in. this is entirely inspired by the fitz / scandal edits that are all over my tiktok currently. i'd be very interested in politics if javier was my president <3 as always, reblogs and comments are always greatly appreciated x

Pairing - President!Javier Peña x Female Reader

Age Rating - 18+

Warnings - smut!! + cursing

Word Count - 2074

Masterlist. Requests.

You've always been a sickeningly good liar.

"I'm just bringing some papers he requested," is what you tell the security guard at the end of the hallway as you push past.

I'm about to get railed by the President of the United States in the Oval Office, is what you mean.

Your kitten pumps click against the wooden floors as you stride fiercely towards the heavy wooden door. Luckily, security posts themselves at the end of the hallway. Javier has told them time and time again that he feels smothered when they stand right outside his door. It works in your favour, anyway.

You knock four times in quick succession - your secret code.

"Come in."

His low, booming voice permeates through the wood, settling in your bones. Oh, that voice.

You enter the room and lay eyes on him immediately. He looks so broad, sat in his leather chair. His shoulders fill it out completely, dwarfing the back of it. His shirt sleeves are pushed up and over his forearms, the top few buttons undone. He looks delectable.

"Hi, hermosa," he drawls. "You bring me those papers I wanted?"

"Sure did," you purr, making your way over to him. You throw the documents onto his desk and hitch a leg over so you're straddling his lap on the chair.

"Missed you," he mumbles against your lips, warm hands grabbing at your hips to pull you closer so you're chest to chest.

"You saw me this morning," you chuckle, resting your forehead against his.

"I saw you in a foreign affairs meeting this morning. It's not the same."

He leans in and presses his lips to yours, revelling in the content sigh you let out. You tangle your fingers into his hair, tugging gently. He groans, and the vibrations of the sound settle in your core.

You grind your hips forward, searching for any friction you can find. Javi helps you, rocking you over his lap.

"Oh, you look so pretty like this, honey," he drawls. "You love this, don't you? The thrill of being caught turns you on, doesn't it?"

All you can do is whine in response.

"It'd be a national scandal," he continues lowly. "I bet they'd all think I seduced you. But that's not the truth, is it, baby?"

When you don't answer, he grabs your hips roughly, holding you so you are no longer able to move.

"Answer me, pretty girl. That's not the truth, is it?"

"No," you whine.

"No, what?"

"No, Mr President."

Hearing his title fall from your lips all pretty makes him moan, head thrown back and gorgeous neck exposed. You lunge forward and attack it, pressing kisses into the spots you know he likes.

"Walking around here in your tight skirts, those button up blouses. Batting your eyelashes at me like butter wouldn't melt. If only they all knew, huh? If only they knew how filthy you are."

Your hands fly to his shirt, fingers trembling as you try to undo the buttons. He chuckles as he watches you struggle, making no move to help you.

"You need help, sweetheart? All you have to do is ask. I'll give you anything you want. Anything."

You know he means it.

"Yes, sir. Help, please."

"Good girl."

He makes quick work of his shirt, shrugging it off his shoulders before doing the same to yours. He presses you into him, revelling in the skin on skin contact. He's so warm and you're so soft and you both sigh at the feeling.

"Been thinking about this all day," he mumbles against your neck. His hands trace patterns up and down your spine, enjoying the feeling of your skin underneath the rough pads of his fingers.

"Me too," you whine. "You looked so big stood up there today. So broad and powerful. Wanted you to bend me over the desk in front of everyone."

He groans at your confession, and the vibrations settle in your core.

"Come here, honey," he half requests, half demands, grabbing your thighs to hoist you onto the desk in front of him. He remains sat on his chair, wheeling closer to where you're now spread out, legs apart.

"God, you look good enough to eat," he winks, rucking your skirt up and over your hips.

Javier leans forward and presses his nose into your core, inhaling deeply. It's so filthy and so intimate that you'd be cringing if you weren't so turned on.

He sucks at you through your underwear, groaning at your muffled taste. It's the one thing he can never get enough of.

"Fuck, you're so sweet," he sighs. "And to think that I'm the only person in the world that gets to taste you like this. Such a shame."

"It's not a shame," you whimper breathlessly. "It's all yours. All for you. No one else."

He moans unashamedly, gripping at the waistband of your underwear to pull them down and off. He tucks them into the pocket of his slacks, revelling in the way he can feel how wet they are against his thigh.

Without a second thought, he dives into you, tongue licking an eager stripe from bottom to top. You jolt upwards when he sucks on your clit, propping yourself up on your elbows to watch him work.

You've always been turned on by the way Javi enjoys himself when he eats you out. It's as if he enjoys it as much as you do. He hums and groans in contentment the entire time, and the vibrations drive you closer and closer to the edge.

You can feel your climax licking at the base of your spine, warming you up from the inside out. Javier can feel it too, doubling down on his efforts. He's always taken pride in how easily he can get you off with just his tongue, no fingers needed.

"That's it, pretty girl," he mumbles into your core. "You're almost there, I know you are. You can do it. Come for me, honey."

You tip over the edge, back arching and hips canting. He uses a strong hand to push you back down, fingers splayed over your stomach. The other hand keeps your thighs apart, determined to prolong your orgasm for as long as possible.

You finally come down, slumping back against the desk. Your chest is heaving, breath coming in quick pants. Javi stands up and leans over you, kissing your lips gently.

"Such a good girl," he praises. "You'd let me do whatever I wanted, wouldn't you? As long as you get to come, you don't care."

As humiliating as it is, he isn't wrong. It's nothing to do with the fact he's the most influential man in the world. No, it's more to do with the fact that you feel like you've known him your whole life. The minute you met, the two of you clicked. There's always been an undeniable, unavoidable chemistry between you, buzzing away underneath everything. You're genuinely surprised no one has caught on yet.

"Javi," you whinge, grabbing at him to pull him closer.

"What is it, hermosa? What do you need, huh?"

You thread your fingers through his hair, ignoring the way your heart sings when he leans into your touch like a puppy.

"Need you," you mumble against his lips.

He kisses you again, tongue sweeping into your mouth. He bites your bottom lip, making you gasp in surprise. Chuckling lowly, he unbuttons his suit trousers, reaching into his underwear. You watch his every move, practically salivating. When he doesn't immediately do what you want, you whimper, trying to get his attention.

"You need something, pretty girl?"

You roll your eyes, unimpressed by his arrogance. You'd think that being the most powerful man on the planet would get exhausting, and that he'd want to give it up in his downtime, but no. He loves to have all the power in the bedroom, his authority not relenting for a minute.

Javier moves back to standing in between your legs, grabbing your hips and pulling you forward so you're at the edge of the desk. He swipes his length through your folds, seeing how far he can tease you before you'll break. You wiggle your hips, willing him to get the message.

"You want me to fuck you, sweetheart?" he asks, condescension dripping from his tone.

You nod your head frantically, but Javier won't let up.

"Beg."

You think, for a second, that you've misheard him. Usually, all you have to do is whine a little, pout your bottom lip, look at him with your big doe eyes. His long day has clearly taken its toll on him.

"... What?" you ask meekly.

"You heard me. Beg."

If this was any other man, any other situation, you'd be laughing in his face and storming out of the room. But this isn't just any man. This is Javier. Javier Peña, President of the United States of America.

You relent embarrassingly quickly.

"Please," you whine. "Please, Javi, baby. Fuck me. Please, I need it. I need you."

His gaze sweeps you up and down slowly, surveying you carefully. He must be feeling generous, because he decides to take mercy on you.

"Okay, sweet girl. Only because you asked me so pretty."

He slides home in one smooth thrust, connecting you in more ways than one. He rests his forehead against yours, kissing you gently, tenderly.

"There we go," he coos. "That's what you needed, isn't it?"

"You're a menace," you laugh breathlessly, adjusting to him.

"You wouldn't have it any other way," he teases, kissing you again before withdrawing his hips and slamming forward.

Javier sets a steady, bruising rhythm, fingers digging into your hips to stop you from sliding off the desk. You're suddenly very grateful security are at the end of the hallway, and not directly outside the door.

One of his hands moves to rest at the base of your throat, holding you in place. As if you'd want to be anywhere but here.

"Fuck, princesa," he breathes. "Can never get enough of this. Of you."

His hips pick up in pace, fingers tightening on your neck. The lack of oxygen is making your vision fuzzy around the edges, allowing everything to feel more intense. Your climax is building rapidly, racing through your veins.

"Can feel you squeezing me, honey," Javier groans. "You're so close. Almost there, baby, come on. You gonna come with me? Want me to fill you up?"

"Yes, Mr President," you pant breathlessly. "Please, Javi. Please."

"Come with me, pretty girl. Let me feel you. That's it, atta girl."

Javier releases his grip on your neck at the exact moment your orgasm hits you. The oxygen rushes back into your lungs and you see stars, gripping onto his biceps for dear life. He finishes with you, groaning as his head falls forward to rest on your shoulder.

The two of you are panting, chests heaving and sweat dripping down your backs. You run your fingers through his hair, revelling in how soft it is, how the ends are curling because it's getting longer.

After a few minutes, you come back to reality, realising it's probably much later than you initially thought.

"What time is it?" you whisper against his temple.

He pulls back to check the clock on the wall behind you.

"11:18pm."

"Shit," you groan.

"Yeah," he agrees.

Javi pulls out of you with a wince, and tucks himself back into his trousers. He wraps a strong arm around your middle and helps you off the desk, setting you on shaky legs. He finds your shirt and buttons it up for you, before doing his own. Sitting back down in his chair, he runs his fingers through his hair.

"I should go," you admit reluctantly. "We've got an early morning tomorrow. I can't meet the Texan Senator looking like I haven't slept."

Javier chuckles, eyes boring into yours. He smiles at you so genuinely it makes you want to cry.

"Goodnight, hermosa."

You gather your stuff and slip your shoes back on, making your way towards the door.

"Oh, and Mr President?"

His head immediately whips around to look at you, giving you his full attention.

"Yeah, baby?"

You turn around, one hand on the door knob. Flicking your hair over your shoulder, you rake your gaze down his body and back up again.

"Say hi to your wife for me."

@not-a-unique-snowflake-blog

@soaringcloud

@reuss7

@pedrobaby

@mrsquill

[oswildin]

A Merry Christmas (Loki x Reader)

Summary: In the spirit of Christmas, you bring Loki some Yuletide. But maybe he has a trick or two up his own sleeve when it comes to bringing you some Yuletide of your own.

Genre: Fluff, friends to lovers, AU

“F.R.I.D.A.Y, play my Christmas playlist.”

Loki furrowed his brows, looking up to find you entering the common area of the compound, bags in your hands, a Santa hat atop your head. ‘Last Christmas’ began playing through F.R.I.D.A.Y’s speaker system as you approached the couch, placing the bags down, the plastic rustling as it settled, Loki’s sea-green eyes flickering between the bags and you.

“Uh- what is all this?” Loki asked, standing from his seat and pointing towards the bags, seeing what appeared to be various Christmas items decorations, as well as a large box under your arm.

“Me bringing you some Yuletide.” You said simply, shrugging off your jacket as you threw it over the back of the couch with a sigh.

“What?” Loki blinked, scrunching his face faintly, glancing around him as if you were pulling some sort of prank.

“It’s your first Christmas on Earth, right?” You continued, raising a brow, rounding the couch to take a seat beside the bags. “So, I thought I’d give you the full experience, educate you if you will.” You mused lightly, beginning to reach into the bags to rifle through the items. Loki’s brows once again creased, lips pursing.

“I don’t need ‘educating’.” He insisted, watching as you began to pull out various decorative things, tinsel, fairy lights, baubles…

“I even bought some DVDs.” You pulled out a few of the said physical copies of Christmas movies, showing him with a small smile before placing them down on the coffee table with the other objects you’d pulled out. Loki let out a quiet sigh, before moving to retake his seat, clearing his throat. “And a gift…” You added, smirking. Your hands reached into the paper bag, grasping the fabric of the green sweater you’d purchased, before throwing it his way. He caught it with ease, face once again scrunching as he unfolded the fabric, instantly looking at the sweater with distain.

“You can’t have Christmas without an ugly Christmas sweater.” You commented, amusement evident in your gaze as you grabbed your own sweater from the bag.

“What?” Loki breathed out, realising you expected him to wear the hideous sweater. “Absolutely not. It’s humiliating.”

It was about five minutes later when Loki finally caved, sat quietly with his lips in a tight line as he plucked an invisible hair from the woolly material, less than pleased. “I think it suits you, you should wear it every day.” Your voice held barely concealed amusement, as you leaned back against the couch, now wearing your own rather ugly sweater.

“No.” Loki simply stated, tone almost grumbly. You couldn’t help but let your lips quirk upwards, pleased that he was indulging in your festivities, even if it was reluctantly and with a scowl.

“You’re right. It’s far too beautiful to be worn every day.” You teased, smirking. Loki narrowed his eyes faintly, although there was a flicker of his own amusement dancing in his gaze. “Special occasions only then. Speaking of…” You reached towards the coffee table, grabbing the bottle of mulled wine you’d acquired on your shopping trip. “I know this is more your thing.” You raised a brow, holding the bottle towards Loki as he shifted in his seat, leaning forwards to take the dark green bottle from your hand.

“Not exactly Asgard’s finest.” He mumbled, although his lips faintly quirked upwards as he spoke. “But I suppose it will do just nicely.” And with that, he gracefully pushed himself to stand, moving towards the kitchenette to retrieve two glasses.

Whilst Loki did that, you busied yourself, standing to move towards the large box you’d brought in with you. A Christmas tree. It was cheap, a little tacky - perfect. In fact, most of the things you’d picked up would be deemed as tacky, but you didn’t care, you loved it. Loki soon returned with two glasses of the mulled wine, pausing as he saw you opening the box for the Christmas tree.

“Absolutely not.” Loki shook his head, eyeing you. “I draw the line at this monstrosity I’m wearing.” He glanced down at the sweater, grimacing at the sight.

“We’re decorating a tree.” You told him, tone leaving no room for argument.

“No, we are not.”

Once again, five minutes went by and Loki found himself stood at the tree, holding tinsel in his pale hands as you were wrapping the fairy lights around the plastic branches. Loki watched you with thinly veiled exasperation.

“You do realise I could use my magic and have this place ‘decked out’ with a flick of my wrist.” Loki stated, raising a brow, the glow of the fairy lights illuminating his face. “Saves us doing free labour.”

“Decorating is part of the fun.” You tilted your head looking over at him as he stood across from you on the other side of the tree. He allowed himself a small smile, conceding once again to your reasoning.

“I don’t know if ‘fun’ is quite the word I would use.” He said lowly, taking in a quiet breath. “Tedious may be more accurate.” You rolled your eyes at him.

“Maybe I should’ve got you a Grinch outfit.” You quipped, pursing your lips as you placed a hand on your hip. “Would work great with your attitude.” Loki couldn’t help but let out a huff of amusement at your words, before he threw the tinsel he was holding over your shoulder.

“He did have a heart that was rather small.” Loki smirked. “I’ve heard similar sentiments regarding myself throughout the centuries.” He mused, raising a brow as he tilted his head.

“Ah, but the Grinch’s heart grew.” You smiled, grabbing the tinsel from your shoulder to place it on the tree. “It grew three sizes in fact.” You added.

“Are you trying to tell me through metaphors that I’ve gone soft?” Loki asked, lips quirking upwards in one corner, a glint of mirth in his eyes.

“Well, you’ve certainly plateaued in your… older age.” You replied playfully, eyes flickering over him before turning back to the tree. Loki let out a small breathy chuckle, shaking his head as he moved to grab his glass of mulled wine from the nearby surface it sat on.

“I resent that notion.” He said, feigning indignation. “And I’m still young, thank you very much.” He added, brows furrowing as he took a slow sip of his wine, keeping his eyes on you.

“I’ve heard you wheezing after walking up some stairs.” You said playfully, stepping back from the tree to look at your handiwork. “And you’ve fallen asleep in front of the TV a few times too. I’m pretty sure I’ve even heard you say ‘I was just resting my eyes’…” You trailed off, unable to stop the teasing grin from pulling at your lips as you looked over at him.

“In the spirit of Christmas…” Loki said lowly, playfully glaring at you. “I will refrain from smiting you where you stand.” You let out a laugh at his words, humming as you grabbed your own glass of wine, sighing contentedly at the tree. Loki moved to stand beside you, looking at the tree, his eyes scanning the rather… Garish decorations. “It’s…” Loki trailed off, trying to find the right word.

“Hideous.” You finished for him, still grinning. “Which means-“ You turned to face him. “It’s perfect.” Loki turned his head to look at you, blinking.

“Hideous is good?” He raised a brow. “Just when I think I’m beginning to understand mortals, you go and say something like that.” You shrugged in amusement.

“Mortals don’t even understand mortals.” You smirked. “So you may as well quit while you’re ahead.” You patted his arm in a playfully patronising manner, causing him to roll his eyes.

An hour or so passed, you two both sat in the seating area, you leaning back on the couch with Loki in the armchair, angled towards you. You’d had a few glasses of mulled wine, played a few games, to which Loki got extremely competitive. Especially during charades. But it was mostly because he didn’t know a lot of the things you were trying to mime.

“That was not an elf.”

“Loki, what the hell did you think this-“ You moved your hands to your head, moving them into a triangle, miming a pointy hat. “-was?!”

“A house!”

“It’s a hat! A hat! Elves wear pointy hats! It’s Christmas themed charades!”

But now you were both just enjoying the Christmas music still playing over the speakers, sipping your glasses of wine.

“Look at that…” You mused playfully. “Yuletide hasn’t killed you.” You teased, smirking, regarding him with a slight tilt of your head.

“There’s still time.” Loki replied with a smirk.

“To still having time.” You raised your glass in a toast as Loki did the same.

“In the spirit of Yuletide.” He gave a small, warm smile, before lifting the glass to his lips. You did the same, taking a sip. A moment of comfortable silence passed between you both, as Loki looked down at the wine in his glass, swirling it gently.

“Tell me, in the spirit of ‘educating’…” He began lowly, glancing up at you. “Why are so many Christmas films about love?” He asked, a genuine question, curiosity in his gaze. You raised a brow at his question, before laughing lightly.

“Because that’s what Christmas is all about.” You mused playfully. “That and presents, of course.” You joked, causing Loki to smirk, nodding slowly. “It’s a holiday that relies on people being with family, friends, loved ones…” You continued, tone more serious as you shrugged. “Love is something universal. Felt by everyone at some point. Easy selling point.” You smirked as Loki hummed, a pensive look on his features.

“I suppose.” He said quietly, nodding once again, eyes drifting to his glass. “And does… love… get you mortals in the spirit of Christmas?” He asked, risking a glance over at you. You pursed your lips in thought.

“I suppose.” You echoed his own words back to him. “It’s nicer to spend Christmas with those you care about…” You trailed off, now it was your turn to look down at your glass, trailing a finger around the rim absentmindedly. Silence fell between you both, Loki letting out a quiet breath as he pursed his lips. An idea sprung to his mind as he moved to place down his glass on the coffee table, making you look up with a quizzical look.

“There is… one tradition that I have heard of.” Loki spoke up, raising a brow as he stood from his seat, looking down at you still sat on the sofa. “A tradition that you have failed to mention or even seemingly implement into our festivities.” He chided playfully, before gesturing for you to get to your feet, stepping towards you to take your glass of wine from you.

“Hey-“ You pouted, watching as he placed the glass down next to his, once more ushering you to your feet. You huffed out a small sigh, rolling your eyes before doing as he said and standing. You raised a brow at him. “And what tradition did I forget to mention?” You asked, tilting your head. Loki’s lips ever so faintly tugged upwards, as he lifted his hand, a shimmer of green flickering at his fingertips. You frowned as nothing happened. Loki took a small breath before his eyes lifted to look up, your gaze following his. Your lips parted in surprise as you saw…

“Mistletoe…” You said quietly, brows furrowing. Your gaze fell back down to meet Loki’s, his own blue eyes looking at you, trying to gauge your reaction, a softer look on his features.

“Well…” Loki cleared his throat lightly. “It is a… old tradition, is it not?” He asked lowly, eyes searching yours. You blinked at him, feeling your heart flutter slightly at the notion of kissing him under the mistletoe.

“Are you winding me up?” You asked suspiciously. “That’s not very Yuletide of you.” You commented wryly as Loki shook his head slightly.

“No.” He said simply. “I swear-“ He placed a hand on his chest over his heart. “I’m not ‘winding you up’.” He said softly, faintly smirking at your choice of words. Your own gaze softened, a flicker of disbelief flashing across your face. “I mean, if you would rather skip the tradition-“ He continued, a hint of uncertainty entering his tone, worried he had made a mistake, but you quickly shook your head.

“No!” You said a little too incessantly, before clearing your throat. “I mean- No… It’s… A… nice idea.” A nice idea? You mentally cursed yourself. “By ‘nice’ I mean, in the spirit of Christmas, of course.”

“Of course.” Loki nodded, holding your gaze. A moment of stillness passed between you, both of you seemingly wondering who would make the move. However, it didn’t take long for Loki to be the one to do so, taking a small step closer to you. You swore you heard him take a quiet sharp breath. Was he… nervous?

Loki could feel his heart beating a little faster as he looked at you, now only a few inches away from you. There has always been something unspoken between you both, a mutual respect, a mutual understanding… Friendship. And something else. Something that was evident to everyone else except you both, each oblivious to the others affections. But now… It was a chance to let those affections be known.

Loki slowly leaned closer, keeping his eyes locked with yours. You could hear your heart in your ears, a warm feeling in your chest forming. Loki paused, before finally pressing his lips to yours tenderly. It was sweet. Soft. Tentative. Both of your eyes closed, as you kissed him back, ‘Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas’ playing in the background. It was… magical.

After a moment, you broke apart, your eyes staying closed for a second before meeting his again. Loki looked at you, face full of wonder and adoration, and then a hint of shyness crept in as he lowered his gaze, letting out a quiet breath. Looking back up at you again, Loki allowed his lips to quirk upwards faintly.

“Merry Christmas.” He said softly, voice barely above a whisper. You gave him a soft smile in return, eyes bright.

“Merry Christmas, Loki.”

[undertheorangetree]

Under the God's Eye

Chapter Seven- The Gala

Summary- Secrets are revealed at the God’s Eye Gala.

Warnings- MDNI 18+ Female Reader. Lots of profanity. Alcohol consumption. Mention of edibles. Aemond being an idiot. Me continuing to know nothing about law school. Angst baby.

Author's Note- I listened to drunk walk home by mitski on repeat at the end there besties so sorry in advance. Link to the full chapter below.

Series masterlist

dividers by firefly-graphics

“You look so beautiful,” she says, smiling as she watches Baela look herself over in the mirror.

Her friend turns to look at her, a pretty smile on her face as she turns her hips and lets the skirt flounce around her. They had retreated to the second house- the one Rhaenyra’s side of the family have been staying in- in order to prepare for the gala together. It will be her first but Baela has been to more than a handful before and has been incredibly excited to prepare them both for this one. She had only the dresses Aemond had bought for her, still hidden away in their garment bags as she was too afraid to look, but Baela had assured her that should they be entirely hideous she was more than welcome to wear one of the gowns she had brought. There were no less than five options, all designer and all gorgeous, but as she sits on the bed with Moondancer, Baela’s hairless sphynx, in her lap, she can’t help the nervousness rising in her. As if all those in Driftmark will be able to know she doesn’t belong among them through sight alone, by smell.

This is an opportunity for her just as it is for Aemond, she tries to rationalize. She would have the opportunity to network, to get to know those who already worked in the field and perhaps impress them, if the opportunity presented itself, but she can already imagine herself saying the wrong thing, ousting herself before she even has the opportunity to be apart of it all.

Baela turns back to the mirror with a huff, fiddling with the off shoulder sleeves of the blue dress. “It’s not too much?”

“I don’t think so.”

She wouldn’t know, considering she has never been to an event with a black tie dress code but this dress seems right for the occasion anyway. As have the last two but she likes how the colour of this one seems to make her skin glow, complimenting her round features.

Baela stares at herself for a long moment, eyes scrutinizing, before nodding once. She thanks whatever god is listening for that, as they had reached the final dress and she wasn’t sure what they would do if she had run out of gowns. Probably raided her sister’s room with all the determination of a soldier. She’s more than relieved that is not about to be their fate.

“Okay, now you!” Baela announces, clapping her hands and making her way toward one of the garment bags. “I’ve been dying to see this. And to see you in it. Such a fancy brand name, it has to be pretty, doesn’t it?”

She huffs out a heavy breath, feeling more nervous than excited as Baela unzips the bag and pushes it aside, pulling the dress out with a dreamy sigh. Her fingers begin scratching Moondancer’s chin quicker as she unveils the dress as if it were a bride, shimmery emerald green silk tumbling forward. Baela runs her hand along the fabric appreciatively, her mouth gaping, corners turned up as she looks from her to the dress.

“Give me my cat, you’re putting this one.”

Her eyes dart from Baela to the dress before she sighs, lifting Moondancer from her lap and handing her over to Baela. She grins as they exchange, handing her the opened garment bag as she tucks her hand under Moondancer’s belly and shoos her away. She walks obediently into the bathroom, hanging the bag on the shower curtain rod and staring at it for a moment. She doesn’t know what she had expected but she is sure it wasn’t this. It looks too expensive to wear.

Or, at least, for her to wear.

Regardless, she sighs for the third time in as many minutes before pulling her shirt over her head, undressing down to her underwear before removing the dress from the bag carefully. For a moment, she thinks it looks so fragile that a callous or ragged nail would be enough to tear it, but it feels slightly more sturdy once its in hand. The silk flows over her like water as she lets it fall over her head, tucking her arms through the thin straps and turning to face the mirror. It’s prettier than anything she has ever worn and even without the zipper pulled up, she can tell it is going to fit like a glove.

Holding both hands against her breasts to ensure that it doesn’t fall, she opens the bathroom door and waddles out. “Could you help with the zipper?”

Baela pops up from the bed happily, coming behind her to pull the zip up and clasp the small hook and eye closure at the top before stepping back. Both of her hands come up, palms pressed together, and she presses them against her lips as she smiles.

“You look like a princess.”

“You look like a princess,” she says immediately though she can’t help but think they’re both right.

"And we're going to look even prettier once we're done. You’re wearing this one, I don’t even care what the other one looks like now. You couldn’t look more perfect.”

Read the rest here

Taglist- @backyardfolklore @docmartinis @watercolorskyy @barbieaemond @bellaisasleep @yentroucnagol @aemondsbabygirl @randomdragonfires @at-a-rax-ia @violetletovi @launotfound @helaenaluvr @solisarium @bellstwd

[xetlynn]

Twilight- Switch of Daylight: Chapter Thirteen, Volturi

(Alice x Reader x Jasper)

[Twelve] [Thirteen] [One]

"He's going to make the Volturi change their minds." Alice tells us after a vision.

"It's almost noon now." Bella announces, checking her watch. Alice going as fast as she can in th Porsche.

"There's Volterra." Alice points up to a village. Now pushing the car even faster than before. Everyone in the village is wearing red. The car weaving through people. "Why are they all wearing red?" Bella questions.

"San Marcos Day festival. The perfect setting. Large crowds. The Volturi won't let him get far enough to reveal himself- he's counting on that." She explains to my sister who's freaking out.

"We only have five minutes."

Alice slams on the breaks, bringing us to a halt. The police wave her back and Bella jumps out. "Where's the square?" She asks. "Follow that lane-" My sister's already running. "He'll be under the clock tower!" Alice shouts after her.

As we watch Bella we then see a figure in a black coat, tracking her. He disappears and I go to open the door but Alice stops me. "[Name], they'll kill you." She says. "I really have nothing to live for anymore, Alice. I'll be killed either way. We both know it." I tell her, it was something no one wanted to bring up.

Why would they? I'm slowly turning into a hybrid, the most powerful being to exist. Something the Volturi can't let happen. Neither can the wolves. As much as I'm fighting it, I'm getting weaker.

"Don't say that, I can protect you." Her face morphs into a sad expression I don't think  I've ever had to witness before. I take in a breath, checking where Bella's body was just at, my hand still touching the door handle. Then looking back at Alice.

"Does she make it?" I ask. "Yes." She whispers. "We need to get there before they get them." I say, she nods her head, I take my hand off the handle and sit back.

I notice her shoulders fall and she begins to drive the Porsche to park it somewhere. Once we get in a shaded area she puts her hood up, I take the stupid hat off and put on the hood of my long sleeve. I feel my body shudder, my knees almost giving out. Alice holds onto my body, helping me stay up.

"Let's go." I demand, she hums, her small body fitting underneath my arm. "I know a shortcut." She tells me, we go behind buildings and then finding alleys that lead to others so we don't have to bump into too many people. "[Name] you're getting weaker." She suddenly says, I didn't even notice how droopy I was becoming.

"I'm sorry." I straighten my poster. "You need to take some of my energy." She leans me against the wall and I let out a shakey breath, hitting my head against the brick. "No." I close my eyes.

"I'll take their energy when we get there." I try to walk, almost falling forward but she catches me once again. "Please, just enough to walk on your own." She pleads with me.

"Just enough," I repeat, focusing on what I was doing I take some of her energy and I'm able to let her go without stumbling. I glance at her and I see her eyes sunken in a little bit. "I took too much." My eyes widen.

"No- no you didn't, I can still run, let's go." She takes my hand and we begin to start running where we need to go.

We hear their voices and start getting closer, Alice lightly trips when we get toward them. We pull off our hoods.

"Come on, guys. It's a festival." We reach Edward and my sister, positioning ourselves in a protective stance in front of Bella. "We wouldn't want to make a scene." I continue.

"There won't be any scene. And we'll still win." I recognize him from when Jasper and Alice were telling me about them. His name is Felix.

"But not easily-" "Enough." Jane, a tiny woman with blonde hair cuts the conversation. We take a step back, knowing her ability. "Jane." Edward nods.

"Who is she?" I hear my sister ask Alice. "Just do as she says." Alice motions. Jane tosses Edward an overcoat, he easily slips it on. "Follow me." She orders, turning and heading up the alley.

I glare at them from behind, knowing I could easily take their energy and power but also knowing it wouldn't end good.

We follow them.

I feel the energy I once had falter, having to cover it up I bounce on my other knee a little bit. I know Edward noticed it though. He moves closer to me.

"Take mine." Is all he whispered. I glance at him, shaking my head. "Do it." He mumbles a little more sternly. He forcibly grabs my wrist and I close my eyes.

"Ok, ok." I smack him away, focusing on what I had to do again.

We get to more narrow alleys, the path ends at a wall of the brick similar to the other walls. Without breaking the pace of the walking we were doing Jane strides in forward, dropping down a hole in the street. A drain.

Alice follows, me going next. "It's alright, Alice and [Name] will catch you." I hear Edward tell Bella as we now wait at the bottom. We do exactly as said by him and then when he lands beside us he takes Bella, pulling her close to him.

Next we go into an elevator, the door clanging shut and the noise hurting my ears. I feel that warm feeling again and I tense up. I'm not even angry so I don't understand why it's happening.

The elevator opens to a nicely elegant space that has an old world look to it. We're greeted by a human receptionist. "Buon pomeriggio."

We head through the lobby, reaching double doors that open. The three ancients, Aro, Marcus and Caius sit in three seats there. Aro rises, greeting us and taking Edward's hand, shaking it.

"What a happy surprise! Bella is alive after all. Isn't that wonderful?" Aro grins, announcing it to everyone in the world. Caius has a sour expression laid upon his face. Marcus could care less.

Aro doesn't let go of Edward's hand. "Her blood appeals to you so much it makes me thirsty. How can you stand to be so close to her?" He questions Edward. "It's not without effort." He responds, making Aro laugh. "I can see that."

Bella looks at Edward confused so he explains, "One touch and Aro can see every thought I've ever had in my life."

"You're quite the telepath yourself, Edward. Though, you can't read Bella's thoughts. Fascinating." He releases Edward's hand and turns to Bella. "I would love to see if you are an exception to my gifts, as well."

He reaches for my sister's hand who is hesitant at first but she doesn't have a choice so he extends his hand. She finally takes it. Confusion sweeps over him.

"Interesting." He releases her hand and goes back to his chair. "I wonder if-" "No!" Edward shouts.

I look between everyone, observing everyone's emotions. Alice moves closer to me. She knows if he gets anything from us he's going to know what's going to happen to me. I've come to terms with it.

"Let's see if she's immune to all our powers, shall we Jane?" Aro ignores Edward. Jane turns to Bella but Edward springs in front of her. Jane focuses her gaze onto him which flings him across the room where he collapses. My eyes widen and I focus onto her. Taking her energy.

Alice goes to tell me to stop but it's too late. She's not able to use her ability anymore. "Jane, dear?" Aro asks her, smiling at me now. Jane's grin turned to anger.

"[Name], isn't it?" I back away from him. "Now, now." He laughs. I take deep breaths trying to calm down as I feel the warmth get hotter on my skin. I look over at Alice whose eyebrows are furrowed, not knowing what to do as Bella is helping Edward up.

Them just as worried about me. Bella and him don't know much but obviously now Edward does reading our minds.

"I've heard about you." He says, not reaching out for my hand just yet. "What about me?" I ask him, building a confidence. "You're with Alice, a prize sure enough... and Jasper, a good mix." His grin was starting to really freak me out now. "You're a recent turn, yes?"

"Nice observation." I glare at him, he giggles, nodding his head. "Don't get to hostile on me, you're warming up!" He looks back at the others. My chest begins to heave up and down rapidly. Alice was staring at me, never leaving. Edward was observing everyone.

And I hope he was listening to me because I was just praying for him to take care of my family now. "You know?" I tilt my head, trying to back up again.

"That you're in the midst of a transformation?" He smiles, "yes." He answers, I feel Alice's emotions fly off the handle, not knowing what to do. I look over at her. "It's okay." I whisper.

"You're going to kill me?" My eyes flicker from him to the ones behind him. "I could. You're in your most vulnerable stage of the transformation." He informs me, confusing me since I was told there's not much information about my kind.

"You're not the only hybrid to exist." He laughs. "Wolves are such-" He pauses. "Emotional beings."

"Are you going to kill me or not?" I fold my arms. "[Name] stop-" Bella pleads, tears were etched in her eyes, tempting to fall. "There's so many decisions to make today." He says to Caius and Marcus.

"It's remarkable! Bella confounds us all and her sister... turning into one of the most powerful beings to exist. What do we do with you two now?" He grins.

"You already know what you'll do, Aro." Marcus says, seemingly bored. "Bella knows too much; she's a liability. [Name] is a danger." Caius adds on. "That's true. Unless Edward intends to give her immortality." Aro talks about Bella first, looking at Edward.

"But that's not your intention, is it. Shame." Aro nods to Felix who moves toward Bella, I'm already held back by others. But before he can he take a few steps, Edward tackles him.

"Edward don't!" Bella screams, Alice leaps to help but more Volturi guards hold her back just like me. We both struggle to get out of their grip. And I know I can take their energy but there's only so much I can take.

Edward is fast, anticipating Felix's moves but Felix is stronger. Felix grabs Edward, throwing him in the ceiling smashing against the marble he drops down and immediately kicked. "Stop this! Please!" Bella begs to Aro who ignores her to lean forward and study Edward. I look at Jane who is itching to step him but Aro gestures her to step back.

Felix takes some hits but then lifts Edward overhead, cracking him and flinging him against a wall. Bella runs to Aro but the Volturi Guard flings her away. She hits hard against the wall.

Bella gets up and kneels in front of him. "Do it! Kill me! Just leave them alone! Leave my sister alone!" She yanks her collar back, exposing her neck to them. I feel my energy leave me and it's worse than before. The warmth beginning to burn even more.

The guards were the only thing holding me up at this point. "Enough!" Aro stops Felix, he immediately releases Edward who manages to look up. "Get away from her!" Edward moves toward but gets pinned by Janes powers causing him to writhe in agony.

"Edward, stop! I've already seen it." Alice says. "Alice stay out of it." Edward says through gritted teeth.

"Alice." I attempt to say but it's getting hard to even speak. "I know what to do." She says, Aro's intrigued, he gestures Jane to stop. She does as told. "Ah yes, the clairvoyant. I saw your gift in Edward's thoughts. What is it you've seen?" Aro questions her.

"Don't" Edward warns her.

"I'm the one who will change Bella. I'll also keep [Name] away from anyone who she could hurt. She's not a danger. I can see it." She tells him, he's surprised along with Bella.

"Please, be my guest." He gestures to her. "Not here. Their father is in law enforcement. If either one goes missing there will be questions." She tells him. "He is easily dealt with." Caius rolls his eyes.

"It will happen, Aro. See for yourself." Alice stands tall. I see Edward glance back at me, the guards are still holding me back as they think I'm a threat. A threat who can barely even stand. I see him smirk at my thoughts. I wink at him.

She thrusts her hand out to Aro who nods to the guards holding he rot release her. She gives him her hand and he closes his hand. I don't know what he saw but when he let go you could see he's in disbelief but also utterly delighted. He lets go of her.

"Mesmerizing! To see the things you've seen, that haven't even happened yet!" Aro gasps. Alice moves to Edward's side, helping him up then apologizing to him.

The guards let me go and I stumble to the floor. Not able to lift myself up anymore.

"Your gifts will make for an intriguing immortal. Go make your preparations." Aro tells my sister who then hurries to Edward's side, too.

I tiredly huff, trying to lift myself up. It's getting hotter. I feel sweat actually begin to start on my forehead.

"You're letting them leave?" Caius questions. I then feel multiple people lift me up, the coolness of their hands feel good contrasted with the heat erupting my body. "Dear Caius, the girl's disappearance will be conspicuous at best. And surely you see her potential." Aro argues with one of his partners.

"Let us be done with this. Heidi will arrive any moment." Marcus disinterested in what just confided.

Edward is fully recovered now, taking Bella's hand while also helping Alice with getting me out of here. Demetri leads us out of the hall.

As we make our way up the corridor, we see a group of two dozen tourists, led by a beautiful vampire. We all stop to let them pass. I watch Demetri give her a flirtatious smile. "Nice fishing, Heidi, save some for me." She smiles then gives Bella and I a curious look then continues away to the room. "This way, please. Stay together..."

As the group gets into the room we hear their horrid screams, Edward and Alice rush us out of the area.

"[Name], you can't fight this much longer." Carlisle tells me as I lay on their couch. "I don't-" I huff out in pain. "I don't have a choice." I argue with him.

I've been here for a few days after we were in Italy to save Edward. My dad thinks I'm at the hospital right now with a sickness. I get brought back to the house at night after he visits me. I thankfully got to pass out for two days. Meaning I missed a valuable conversation about Bella getting turned into a vampire. But Edward told me they figured it out to push it back a little further.

Now being in the house as the transformation only gets worse the more I fight it. "It's only going to get worse." He sits on the coffee table in front of me. It's like he's reading my thoughts. Didn't think I was in front of Edward.

I'm wearing a tank top and shorts with an ice pack on my forehead to attempt to cool the heat I feel. "It's either this or kill me already." I snap at him, gritting through my teeth with the pain.

Another episode of the heat getting to me. I start crying as it burns. "[Name] just let go." Jasper shows into my view, wiping my face. "No, no, I can't!" I cry out, holding myself in pain.

"You're hurting yourself." He replaces Carlisle from where he was sitting and grips onto my hand as I squeeze it. "It's okay." I squeeze my eyes shut.

"Why are you doing this?" He questions me. "I'll be a danger." I cry, the pain subsiding now.

"You won't Alice saw it, darling." He brings my hand closer to him, I watch him tiredly. "I haven't forgiven you guys yet... A part of me... I'm still hurt." I tell him. "What if my anger is worse and it's directed towards you guys? Either I die or you die." My breathing is starting to get frantic at the thought of them being killed by my own hands.

"We're a lot stronger than you think, [Name]." Emmett comes in with a smirk, Rosalie rolling her eyes at his words. "It's not going to happen." She lightly hits him.

"I'm not doing it." I say. "I'm going to continue to fight it." I attempt to sit up but my chest feels heavy and I fall backwards. Alice comes over with a bag of blood.

"Drink." She hands it to me. "It's human." I shake my head.

"Billy said it's one of the only things that will give you some sort of relief." She shakes it again, putting it closer to my face.

"No one was killed for it, it's Bella's she donated." Carlisle tells me and I look at the bag. "It feels wrong." I look away from it, fighting the urge to drink it.

"Stop being stubborn, please [Name]." Alice pleads with me, I stay quiet, looking at both Jasper and Alice's expressions. In an annoyed manner I grab the bag.

Opening it to drink it. Once I start I feel different. I furrow my eyebrows but continue. I feel myself actually being able to sit up. I drink the rest of it and throw the bag on the table beside Jasper. "How do you feel?" Carlisle asks.

"Amazing." I grin.

"We have a few more bags, we were told wolf blood could help too. Your friends from the Rez decided to help." Carlisle tells me, opening the fridge to show a few bags.

"It stinks but as long as you're okay." Rosalie half-heartedly jokes. I know she's serious but it brings some humor.

"They willingly went to the hospital with you there?" I ask, actually curious. "They knew it was to help you. That's all that mattered." Carlisle says, closing the fridge.

I see Alice and Jasper look at each other then at everyone else. I think they got the memo. "We're going to go hunt, we'll see you guys in a bit." Esme tells us three, gently pushing Emmett and Rosalie to start walking.

Once they're out of the house I look at the two in front of me. I sit up straight and move myself so I can look at them.

"We need to have a conversation about everything, [Name]." Alice takes one of my hands as Jasper has the other. "I know." I nod.

"You need to finish this transformation." Jasper starts, I know I'd be cut off if I even tried to disagree so I stay quiet.

"We understand your fears, but your pain is too much, soon your final transformation will be longer than it should be." Alice finishes. "How do you know that?" I fold my arms. I was told that we barely knew anything about this. How do they all of a sudden know so much.

"The Volturi dealt with it. Carlisle was there. There was a member just like you. They tried to fight it due to Aro's request. The transformation lasted days. Almost two weeks." Alice tells me with anguish lingering in her face. Her eyes flicking from my hand she held to my face.

"[Name] please get your anger with us out now. Let's talk so you feel better." Jasper says to me and I close my eyes.

"Why'd you ignore my calls?" I asked.

"It was petty. I saw you with Sam. For some reason I could see everything you did with him even though he was a wolf." Alice admits to me.

"I thought you were falling for him. It hurt to watch. Every move you made changed the out come of what was happening with Sam. If you thought of us, it was against Sam. If you were to infatuated with the moment that you were in I watched you fall in love with him." She explains everything to me, I melted a little in the couch from the thought of her watching that. Knowing she was in love with me and watching me with someone else.

"I would never get with Sam." I mutter.

"But you thought about it a few times. Rightfully as we left you the way we did. It just still hurt. I'm sorry we weren't there for you when you needed us." Alice sincerely says.

"I'm sorry we told you to leave your family too. It was a selfish request." Jasper adds in. "We want you to be okay, [Name]." He kisses my hand softly.

Cliffhanger? 🫣

Onto the next movie🤪

Masterlist

A&J M.L.

Taglist:

@stevenandmarcslove

@steh-lar-uh-nuhs

@kisekihany

@aureliacorvina

@l3ejm

@marit332

@marsyay78

@small-town-wayward-daughter

@sugathy

[denim-devil]

Kinktober Day 5 — Wall sex/Hickies

Pairings — Bully!Billy Hargrove x Wheeler!Male reader

Summary — Having the house to yourself was always a bonus but a certain Hargrove stumbles in and breaks apart your plans for a relaxing night…

A/N — Okay so I lied, I’m back on with Kinktober I just needed to clear my head and really decide on characters I find easy to write, so here it goes…

[ NOT EDITED ]

──────. • ☆:*.☽ .* :☆ﾟ• . ──────

He pushed past you, making his way into your home through the open front door. You shivered at the cold draft he brought it, he looked to be cold himself but you didn’t say anything.

Instead you sighed, slamming the door shut before turning to Billy. He made himself at home, sitting on one of the counter top- stools, his ring clad fingers travelling over to the freshly made batch of cookies.

The smell almost had Billy weak in the knees, he didn’t waste time, placing the warm crumbly biscuit in his mouth.

“Hands off Hargrove, there for my little sister’s baking stall-“

You were angry, you spent all night trying to perfect the recipe and once you did, Billy had to come and tear it all down, like he did with pretty much anything you did.

He stood before wrapping one of his much larger and warmer hands around your mouth, pushing you back into the wall behind you harshly causing a thump to ring out into the open space.

He was close, practically breathing down your neck.

“But there so damn sweet-“ he teased before taking another bite of the soft, halloween themed cookie. A certain blush crept up into your cheeks, blossoming like a tree’s branches.

Billy took that as an invitation, removing his hand his darted forwards, lips crashing into your own. Your anger was replaced with an almost tethering hunger, one that had you give into him, to your previous feelings for him.

This whole year was like a chase of cat and dog, Billy always coming out on top, including tonight.

“Get off of me you dick-“

You struggle to get out of his grips but of course, Billy wasn’t going to make it that easy for you…was he?

Another chuckle and a shove later your turned, now facing the cold, wooden wall. You begin to panic knowing full well Billy had some shitty trick up his sleeve.

He secured your hands together with one of his own before using the other to twist your face towards him gently. Your met with his ocean blues, his messy, dirty blonde curls hanging over his forehead…you really needed help.

“You know…this game, it’s got me thinking” Billy pressed his front into your arched back, before looking back up at you, licking over his teeth before his lips stretch into a menacing smile.

“Thinking what?” You slightly stutter over your words but the shyness only added fuel to his fire. He cockily began attacking your neck with his lips, kissing the sensitive skin residing underneath your right ear, toying with it before sinking his teeth in, sucking, creating a dark, red blotch.

“Thinking that maybe…just maybe you’d be into me” his voice continued on it’s low tone, it’s raspiness causing your thighs to press together, relieving the ache between your legs.

“You t-thought wrong” your cheeks heat up, you were the same colour as Billy’s open, burgundy shirt. He took note of that and used it to the best of his abilities. Releasing your hands, you rest them above your head, against the wall like the rest of your body, giving into him.

His finger tips graze over the waist band of your denim jeans, already they unclasped the button seductively, which helped Billy push them down, along with your boxers, that alone had you squirming in place, you were lying if you said you never thought about this…

“There we go, fucking perfect sweetheart” the nickname alone had you pushing back into him, your bare ass rutting against his clothed ass.

Quickly, due to his own aching member, Billy too unfastens his belt clasp and button, shoving his denim jeans lower until they pooled around his ankles, his cock slapping up into his flat stomach suggesting his boxers had also joined the mess of denim material on the kitchen floor.

He settled into you, his girthy cock slotting perfectly between your ass. You melted into his touch, clearly giving up your tough demeanour.

“How wrong was I…?”

The question left you speechless, you could only concentrate on the way his cock felt…down there, you’d give anything to know what it felt inside.

“B-Billy please; I’m begging- fuck” your whimpers of neediness encourage Billy to spit into his hand, reaching down he began fisting his dick, lathering the slick until he was satisfied.

He pressed the tip against your hole before silence fell over the both of you, preparing yourself’s for what was to come.

Once you breathily sighed, wiggling your hips antagonistically, Billy pushed forwards, stretching your pucker uncomfortably, he was big, so damn big you were scrambling to grip onto the hands securing your hips in place.

“Stop- please, it hurts”

Billy understood, slowing down but still pushing forwards, willing to break the boundaries you’ve had in the past, you were his now…nothing could change that, especially judging by how your body was reacting to him.

“Look at that- so fucking accepting, this body needs it- fuck, that’s it sweetheart”

The burn slowly sizzled down into a dull pleasure that began to ring from your gut upwards, blooming across your body. Billy was fully sheathed inside, he’s never felt more at home.

“Ready?”

You nod before allowing your bully to start his ravishing, you were certain by the end of this, you and your body wouldn’t be the same, that’s for sure…

[luimagines]

You Steal his Clothes Part 2

Masterlist

Part 1

Part two will include Wind, Four and Hyrule.

Content under the cut!

Wind

Wind didn’t notice anything wrong for the longest time. With his bag being carried by Epona now, he didn’t even realize when it had gotten light. Maybe he had just gotten stronger with all the training the other boys had been giving him?

He flexes at the thought of it. Aryll would be so proud of him! His grandma too. He’ll be able to help out more with fixing the house if he can get even stronger.

Wind straps his sword to his back and proudly continues his march with the rest of the group.

He doesn’t think there’s anything wrong until he can hear you giggle suspiciously behind him. Maybe you’re talking to one of the guys and they’re messing with you or telling jokes and dumb stories. They always liked to makes sure you’re in high spirits. Something about you makes them all protective.

Even if Wind is aware he does something similar to the older boys, it’s suddenly ok and encouraged even, when you’re the recipient instead.

Curious to see what’s got you so giggly, Wind turns around, ready to comment on the laughter when he stops. His ankle is pinned at a weird angle and it crumbles under his weight. 

He falls over.

You see him and skip over to where he is. You adjust the very familiar green hat on your head and the green tunic over your body. “You ok, Wind?”

You’re grinning like the cat that caught the canary. Wind knows that look. And Wind knows that outfit! It’s his!

“I didn’t think it would fit you.” Wind blurts instead, feeling a slight blush spread over his nose and across his cheeks. It’s the hero’s outfit. the one his grandma made for him when he came of age. The one he had his first adventure in. Frankly, he’s just out grown it. That’s why he isn’t wearing it anymore.

Not to mention it’s not the most comfortable thing to wear but you don’t seem bothered by it.

“I didn’t either.” You spread your arms out and do a little twirl. Wind gulps and pushes himself up. Cute. You look cute. “It’s a good thing you have the belt too!”

“....Wait, were you looking through my bag?” Wind raises an eyebrow as he gets back to his feet.

You seem to stall at this. You shrink back and smile nervously. “Not exactly. I was looking for the fairies you said to get for Time, remember? I found it then. And well... It fits me. I didn’t think it would.”

“I forgot I had it.” Wind reaches forward to tug at the sleeve of the under shirt and the tunic itself. It fits you well. It fits you really well actually.

“What do you think?” You wink and strike a pose. “Am I a hero yet?”

Wind snorts. “You don’t need an outfit to be a hero.”

“Link says otherwise.” You cross your arms and pout. Wind has to fight the urge to poke your cheek. Your words however, strike something in him.

“Which Link?” He frowns, and turns to track down the majority of the group. “I’ll get him to shut up. You’re a hero too.”

You blink, not expecting his fierce attitude. “...All of them.” You tilt your head innocently. “Haven’t you realized that you all some sort of uniform? Wild says he was the only one who didn’t go through his trials with this kind of outfit... But then he got one later on after going through a lot of shrines... whatever that means.”

Wind pauses, only a split second from walking off in a rage. He looks back to you. “Really?...What’s a shrine?”

“I don’t know.” You shrug. “But he says they were some that were easier than others to complete. something about them made him stronger. After going through all them he got his own green tunic...with shorts.”

Wind groans. “Shorts would have been awesome to have when I was home.” He points to his tunic. “Humidity and those pants do not mix.”

You laugh. Wind thinks that maybe you can wear it for a little longer then. It’s not like he’s using it.

Four

Four thought he was about to go crazy. Granted it wasn’t the biggest problem in the world, especially when put into comparison with what the group is currently dealing with. But it was annoying.

And yet- of course this happened to him. The one thing he needed for the sake of convenience and it’s gone. Great. Fantastic. It’s just like him to lose it. It was only a matter of time.

His headband was missing. Now he was going to have to deal with his hair in his face until he could either salvage some cloth from some unsuspecting sap that left their clothes for ruin- or he could buy a ribbon the next they went into town.

To be completely honest, he’s not entirely fond of the latter.

He has a few ribbons for formal purposes but for everyday use? Where he’s sweating and working and fighting? It ends being grosser and more trouble than it’s worth.

He groans and end up shoving his stuff into his bag again after taking everything out with more force than necessary. Every other item is paired with Four forcibly moving his hair back, only for it to gradually fall back in front of his face.

Four won’t voice it (with words, he plans on groaning and griping until he can get a decent replacement) but this probably the worst thing to happen to him. He’d take being stabbed over having his hair all over the place.

He throws open the door, flips his hair and makes his way through the inn towards the others.

He huff and tosses his bag over his shoulder and tries to come up with a solution. He bumps into you and curses.

You jump and look at him. “Oh! Good morning!”

Four rubs his head where it got hit the worst and huffs again. “Hello.”

“Bad morning?”

“Something like that. I’m missing my-” Four looks up and pauses. The cogs in his brain take a little while to process what he’s seeing. You’re sleeves are rolled up and you’re wearing an apron. There’s flour on it. There’s also flour on your face. Your hair is held back by-

Four points to it. “...That’s mine.”

You flush and shrink back. “Sorry. I just saw it laying around. I knew it looked familiar. But I couldn’t figure it out where I saw it. Um... ”

You look down at your hands, which are covered in more flour and a bit of dough from what Four can see. As much as he wants it back he doesn’t want you to get dough of all things in your hair just to get it back. He sighs. “Why are you covered in flour?”

You brighten a little bit. “Wild was going to show me how to make bread. It’s why I needed my hair back.”

“Hair in bread isn’t good.” He agrees.

You bite your lip. “Do you mind if I hold onto it a little bit more? And then I’ll give it right back, I promise!”

Four raises an eyebrow and looks you up and down again. You look cute if he’s being honest with himself. And the headband isn’t lost and he trust you to keep your word. Besides, it’s not like it’s going to take forever.

He nods. “Aright. Have fun. Don’t get too messy.”

“I think it’s a bit late for that.” You admit with a small grimace.

Four snorts and walks away. Maybe he’ll stop by town to get a few new ribbons anyway. You should have your hair back more often, he thinks. And why not have it be with something nice for a change? Besides, it’ll stop you from stealing his headband. Which his main reason. Nothing else.

Hyrule

Hyrule was searching though the basket that Twilight has just brought back from the cleaning rack. He knew he had given his under shirt for him to wash and well... he’d like to have it back very much.

He continues to search without much look and he groans loud enough to catch the Captain’s attention. Warrior looks over and snatches his own shirt from the pile before they succumb to the wrinkles Hyrule no doubt gave them. “Didn’t find what you’re looking for?”

Hyrule turns and leans backwards, falling onto his butt and putting his hands behind him. “I lost my shirt.”

Warrior snorts. “I think Twilight lost your shirt. Just ask him where he put it if it’s not in the basket.”

“Good idea!” Hyrule throws himself to his feet and dashes through the camp, leaving the rumpled clothes behind for Warrior to fix before someone notices.

Hyrule looks high and low for the Rancher, finding him by the edge of the camp. He makes himself run faster and “taps” the other boy on the shoulder. It’s closer to a punch but Hyrule is more than a little frazzled to notice. “Twilight I’m looking for-”

He sees you.

You’re sitting with your legs crossed on the log in front of them, having been talking to Twilight before he interrupted you both. Hyrule knew he was on the skinny side. His shirt was a bit baggy on him but it was fine and it played it’s part well.

On you on the other hand. Well you filled it out better than he ever would have been able to. It accentuated your body perfectly. Hyrule could feel his jaw drop at the sight of you. It looks like you had just come back from a bath. Your hair was wet.

Twilight taps Hyrule on the shoulder to get his attention again. “Traveler? You were looking for something?”

“That.” Hyrule points to you. “Is my shirt.”

You blink and flush deliciously. ”Oh... Well my clothes still have to be washed. I thought they would have been done by the time I had finished but-”

“And someone didn’t tell me to do theirs first so these things could be avoided.” Twilight shifts the blame away from him.

You huff and shift your legs down. Hyrule realizes that you’re not wearing your pants either. Just his under shirt to cover yourself.

You say something to Twilight to defend yourself but Hyrule finds himself looking down your legs anyway. It’s not even subtle.

“KeEp iT!” Hyrule forces himself to look away before you notice. And he’s very happy and lucky that neither you or Twilight call him out on his very manly voice crack. “I can wait. I think it’s looks better- I mean I think it works better in for favor this way. It’s not like it’s going to take forever.”

You stand, making it harder for Hyrule to keep his eyes where they belong. “Really? It’s not like I asked you, Hyrule. I could... I should just give this back.”

Hyrule shakes his head frantically and takes a step back. “It’s fine. You’re fine. You’re very fine, actually. I’m just... I’m going... to wait. Over there.”

Hyrule turns on his heel and pointedly looks away from you. His shirt rides a bit shorter on you than on him. that’s not something he wants to entertain right now. With his face bright red and his imagination running wild, he makes his way back into the middle of the camp.

Maybe he should do what you did and head into the nearby creek. Dunking his head in cold water might fix his emotional state right now. 

He can hear you snickering.

Part 3

[13as07]

Patience #1

(Jiraiya Smut)

[Art work is not mine! Credit to SUk1J1]

Requested by: Myself

Keys:

None

Word Count: 5,678

Warnings and/or Pre-Notes:

Masturbating (clit stimulation & pillow humping)

Age Gap

Power Difference (Teacher/Student)

Overstimulation/Orgasm Denial

Pet Names: Little One, Sweetheart, Pillow Princess, Obedient Girl, Sweet Thing/Girl

Choking (for like five seconds)

Hair Pulling

Soft Domination

Praising

Fingering/Oral

I'm stuck on what to do for part two. Should I do wake up sex or the story from Jiraiya's pov? Maybe I'll just make this a four part story instead of a three part story. We'll see :)

———————————————————————

     "Jiraiya-Sensei," the name slips out before I can stop it. Disgust with myself mixes with the pleasure sliding down to my core. Despite the disgust, I continue letting the shower head shoot stimulating bolts of water into my clit.

That's so bad, so inappropriate of me, so wrong. I shouldn't be getting off to thoughts of my Sensei. Jiraiya is a highly regarded Shinobi, one of the legendary sannins, old enough to be my father, all of which only seem to make me hornier.

I can't stop the dirty thoughts seeping into my head, causing my empty pussy to clench with need, to pulse from the lack of being filled.

Thoughts of my Sensei in his nightshirt circle my head, images of him in it pushing me forward. The lovely nightshirt that shows off his defined muscles a lot better than his day clothes. The thin material that dips with his scar. The scar I've thought about tracing with my fingers a million times.

Soon the thought is replaced by another. The innocent memory from earlier this week is soaked in sin. I can't help it, the sight of Jiraiya pushing up the sleeves of his undershirt was just so attractive. The way the bunched-up material empathized his arms just churned something in my stomach.

When the memory of my sensei's heavy hand pushing against my back this morning crosses my mind, it snaps the band between my legs. "Please Jiraiya," I whine, a lot louder than I meant to. I shouldn't mean to. I shouldn't be thinking of my Sensei in this, saying his name in this tone, in this situation.

My legs are just as shaky, if not shaker, than my breath, but I don't move the shower head away. This will be my punishment, overstimulation to wash away my unprofessional thoughts. It's not a punishment though, and I know it. I know I'm going to enjoy continuing to get myself off until I can barely stand.

The continual stimulation only lasts for another minute or two before I can't stand it anymore.

The thought of my Sensei forcing my overstimulation crosses my mind as I pull the shower head away from myself. I don't know what's worse; having the thought or knowing Jiraiya would. After all, he's known for making his students train until they drop. I can't see him being any different with his sexual partners.

I shake my head, trying to clear the thoughts out and steady myself. I just need my legs to last long enough to clean my mess up.

As I clean myself again, the pleasure from before washes away, leaving only the disgust I feel from my thoughts and my actions.

The disgust doesn't subside as I climb out of the shower and dry myself off. It sure as hell doesn't drain as I dress myself into my sleep clothes. It gets even worse when I question whether Sensei would find my panties cute or sexy.

By the time I get out of the bathroom and into our empty hotel room, I'm making myself sick from the reappearing thoughts. Why am I so horny? Why am I so perverted? Why isn't Sensei back from his outing yet?

A whine bubbles in my throat as I scan the room again for Jiraiya, even though I know he won't appear from thin air. Maybe it's good that he's not back yet. Having him here would only grow the fire that wasn't completely put out in the shower. But, it would be so nice to see him right now, to get to appreciate his appearance, to have him distract me from the ache between my legs.

Acknowledging the ache only makes it worse. I need my hormones to stop, for my horniness to go.

Before I can stop myself, I crawl into Jiraiya's bed, leaving the other bed in the room - my bed - empty. The faint forest smell of my Sensei wisps off the sheets, causing the heat to grow even more.

I'm such a pervert, a terrible student, a nasty person.

Just like before, the disgust with myself doesn't outweigh the neediness of my pussy. My eyes snap closed as my hand snakes up the bedsheets, colliding with one of the fluffy white pillows on the bed. I tug the pillow down, shifting it between my knees and propping myself onto it.

When tingles fill me again, I know I'm in the perfect position. I waste no time, burying my head into the sheets to soak in more of Jiraiya's scent as I start thrusting my hips forward.

My hands cling to the bedding when I try to shove my face further into the mattress. Despite my efforts, whines and my sensei's name still come tumbling out of my mouth. "Jiraiya," I whine to myself, grinding my clit against the pillow faster, keeping my thrusts nonstop. The feeling of my slick reapply to my thighs only pushes out another whimper. "Please Sensei?"

     Pressure is added to my clothed hole, causing me to clench before I'm ripped from my dirty fantasy. A yelp falls from me because of the added pressure, the added pressure not being caused by me.

     "So chatty, aren't we?" A voice curves from behind me, causing me to shoot up. My hands are still clenched to the bedding, which is now pulled up from my sitting position. My clit slides against the pillow because of my movement, pulling out a soft moan from my throat.

     My heart is racing as my mind starts processing what's going on. A big, warm hand is now pressed below me, cupping my pussy because of my sudden movements. I can hear the soft breathing of the intruder behind me, my mind fuzzy from the surprise and stimulation, making it hard to process the situation and figure out how to get out of it.

      "Are you going to answer me? It's disrespectful not to answer your Sensei."

     Arousal and embarrassment seep down my stomach from the words. My mind is both empty and packed as I process Jiraiya's words. Jiraiya... my Sensei... who I've spent the past five minutes whining for. "I... um... didn't hear you," I murmur, letting my hands back down, the bedding following suit.

     "Are you a chatterbox in bed, sweetheart?" He repeats, tugging his hand out from under me before laying both of them on my hips.

     "Sometimes," I whisper, my breath shaky as I focus on the headboard in front of me. I fail at this, my attention fully being on the weight of my sensei's hands on me.

     "What have you been up to, little one?" Jiraiya purrs, his head dipping down to whisper into my ear. His hands go to work, slowly sliding me back and forth on the pillow still held between my thighs.

     "While you were..." I try, cutting myself off to hold a moan back.

     One of Sensei's hands releases me long enough to poke my cheek before forcing my hips back into motion. "Don't do that, sweetheart. I want to hear those pretty noises again." I shift my head to try and glance behind me, being met with my stimulation stopped again and hands cupping my cheeks to keep my head still. "Keep your head forward, little one."

     I shift my head back into place, leaning it to the side to soak in Jiraiya's touch. "While you were gone I practiced my clone jutsu," I finally answer, rolling the current situation in my head. This can't be real. This isn't my Sensei, this has to be someone pretending to be Jiraiya. "Sensei?"

     "Sweetheart?" The word is followed by soft circles being rubbed into my cheeks and a kiss pressed behind my ear.

     "If I can't look at you, how do I know it's really you?" Another kiss is pressed into me, behind my other ear this time.

     "Oh, little one, are you that desperate to see me? If I knew you'd miss me this much, I'd go on more outings while we're out of the village."

     The answer makes me huff, mostly out of jealousy. I know what Jiraiya does on his outings, I know what his 'research' really is. All Sensei ever does is thirst after any woman who crosses his path.

     "Oh, don't be so jealous, Sweetheart. I was actually busy this time." It makes me angry how easily he reads me.

     "Busy with what? Peeping into another bathhouse?"

Jiraiya chuckles, the sound echoing throughout the room. "No. Believe it or not, I was meeting up with one of my under-covers."

"Lair," I mumble to myself, shifting my head so it leans the other way.

Sensei chuckles again, this time softer than before. His hands dip, tugging my head back as far as it'll go. Finally seeing him makes more embarrassment seep into my bones. My cheeks start to heat up as I look over Jiraiya's face, taking in his dark eyes before my sight slides down the red stripes of his face. "Hello, little one."

"Hi," I answer, shifting my sight away from him.

"Aw, come on, sweetheart. Don't do that. I want to see your pretty eyes. Look at me." Reluctantly, I do as I'm told, turning my attention back to Sensei's face. His eyes are soft but a smug look coats the rest of my face. "What an obedient student I have," he murmurs, dipping his head down.

I stay still, not knowing what he's going to do or what to do with myself. Jiraiya's lips brush against my face, leaving behind dragged-out kisses as he works his way down to his fingers. Once he's done littering kisses on the right side, he changes his attention to the left.

"Sensei?"

"Hush, little one," he orders, his hands dropping down to my neck. They're light against my skin, his fingers overlapping quite a bit. Jiraiya's hands are big enough that he doesn't need both of them to wrap around my throat. "We're going to work on patience, okay?"

"But-"

"But nothing. I'm your teacher after all. Am I not? It's my job to teach you, to train you." Sensei's speech is followed by a gentle squeeze to my throat, causing me to wiggle uncomfortably. I don't like that, it scares me.

He freezes, his attention being pulled from the repeating kisses being pressed into my face. His eyes scan over me for a beat before his hands shift back to cupping my cheeks, his fingers gently massaging my jawline. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. I didn't mean to scare you."

Once again I'm a bit pissy at how easy he reads me. I don't like him knowing he scared me. I don't want it to scare him away from the attention I'm getting, the attention I've been craving from him. "It's okay."

"It's not," Jiraiya whispers back, lips back to attacking my face. "I won't do anything you don't want, little one."

The nickname makes me squirm, adding a bit of friction to my forgotten clit. Half of a whimper slips up from the small attention to my pussy, getting me a tighter grip on my face.

"Let's start your lesson, ya? Do you want to start your lesson, sweetheart?"

"Please?" I ask, the question coming out whiner than I meant it to.

"Fuck," Jiraiya husks out under his breath, causing me to tingle even more. "You sound so pretty." Sensei's hands drop down to my hips, lifting me off the pillow I've been sitting on before placing me on my feet. "My pretty pillow princess," he mumbles, keeping me in place so I'm facing the wall again.

A hand slides into my hair, holding on to the roots of it. He waits for a second, scanning for my reaction before he tightens his hold. "I'm going to start our lesson, okay? You tell me if there's something you don't want to do, got it, sweetheart?"

"Got it," I mumble, rubbing my legs together. The small touches and ignorance of my needs are making my ache worse. I want to get off now, I need to cum now. Why won't Sensei give me what I want?

Jiraiya's hand relaxes in my hair, loosening his hold but not letting me go. "You need to learn some patience, to learn to wait for me and not rush into things. So, we're going to go nice and slow, okay?" I hum out a yes, nodding my head a bit but that doesn't work out very well. "I'm going to work out your orgasm, slowly. Soft little licks, slow curls, and pumps, and if you behave I'll give you a nice reward, okay little one?"

That sounds terrible. I don't have the patience for a slow pace. I want to orgasm and I want to do it now. "Yes, Sensei," I answer, following my answer with a disappointed whine.

He's silent for a couple of seconds, his hand massaging my head before he drops his hold on me. Sensei's hands land on my hips again, gently pulling me against him. He's warm to the touch, his chest stretching out wider than my frame and coating me with the familiar forest smell he gives off.

"There's my obedient girl," Jiraiya coos, his fingers toying with the hem of my shirt before he starts sliding it upwards. His fingertips tickle as they slide up my sides, tugging my shirt up with them.

I squirm from the touches, rubbing against my Sensei in the process. The hard impression of his dick presses into me from my movements, only making it harder not to move. It excites me to know he's as turned on as me. "Or not," Jiraiya says, his hands - and my shirt - falling back down. "Let's try again, little one. I know you can do it."

This time around, I set my mind on staying still. I'll never get what I want if I can't even make it past the first step.

Once again, Sensei's hands work their way up, tickling my sides the whole time. "Good job, sweet thing," he coos again once my shirt is over my head and disregarded to the floor. "Sweet, sweet thing," he continues to utter, his big hands rubbing soft circles into my stomach. "Are you ready for our next step?"

"Yes," I breathe out, trying my best to stay still. It feels like I'm vibrating with the need to shift in Jiraiya's hold. His hands are so close to my waistband, why can't he just dip his hand down and give me some relief?

"Come here, little one," he calls, tugging me with him as he sits on the edge of the bed. I slide into his lap, his boner pushing against my butt as he cradles me between his knees. "Turn around, sweet girl."

I do as I'm told, shifting in Sensei's hold. His hands slide down, cupping my ass while his gaze rolls over my bare chest. "What an obedient little thing. You're being so good." The praises make me tingle, forcing the lack of attention further into my mind. "I'm going to play with your chest, okay sweetheart?" Jiraiya asks, one of his hands letting my butt go so he can ghost his fingertips over my nipple.

"Okay, Sensei," I whisper, lifting my hands to rest them against his broad shoulders. I swear this teasing is going to kill me. "Why won't you touch me Sensei?" I whimper, shifting forward to grind myself against anything I can reach.

Jiraiya's hand shifts from my ass to my hip before he gently pushes me back in place. "I am touching you, little one. You need to be patient if you want me to touch your pussy, okay? Be patient."

I whine in disappointment but still fall back into place. I'm getting attention, the attention I want, even if it's not in the place I want. "Stop pouting, sweet thing. I'll get you off after our lesson." Once the sentence is out, Jiraiya latches himself to my nipple, softly sucking on it as his hand gently rolls my other nipple between his fingers.

He does as he pleases, switching his mouth and hand between my boobs. It feels nice, having him attack my chest, but it doesn't help my craving for attention. It makes me ache more. "You're being good," he praises, his tongue poking out to slide over my hardened nipple. "So, so good," he continues, his teeth grazing me now.

Sensei does the same to the other side as he tugs me into his lap. I'm shifted around by his free hand, my clothed pussy being pressed against his cock. Jiraiya's eyes flicker up at me, taking in my distressed face. This isn't fair. How am I not supposed to squirm against him? Not stimulate myself when he's so eagerly pressed against me?

After another minute or two of sucking and nipping at my chest, pain starts to overwhelm the pleasure I was receiving. "Sensei?" I call, my nails digging into his shoulders.

"Yes, little one?"

"It's starting to hurt."

Without another word, Jiraiya loosens his mouth from me and the hand that was toying with my nipples drops back down to cup my ass. "Good job, sweet girl," he coos, lips sliding over the sore skin of my boobs. "You're being so good. You deserve a reward."

"For what?" I ask, not convinced this is the end of my so-called lesson on patience.

"For listening, for telling me when to stop. A good student knows their limits, knows when to not be obedient."

Sensei's hands slide up to my hips, taking hold of them before he shifts me against his penis. "Hey," the word tumbles out, curling with a shaky breath. My arms wrap around Jiraiya, clinging to him for some form of grounding. The grinding sends sparks through me, my clit throbbing from finally getting the needed attention.

Before I get too much attention, the movement is stopped, leaving me still as Sensei is pressed against me again. "You're doing great, sweetheart. One more step and I'll give you what you want, okay? Be good and I'll fill you up."

My thighs tense as I clench around nothing. I want to be filled so bad. At this point, I'll do anything to get what I want. "Okay, Sensei," I whisper into his shoulder, leaning my head down for the slightest break.

"For our next step, I'm going to spread you out all nice and pretty on the bed, okay? I'm going to taste you and play with you, and you're going to stay still the whole time, you understand? Are you going to let me spread you out?"

"Yes!" The word rips from my lungs, my clit throbbing again from the promised attention I'm going to get.

     Jiraiya laughs at my excitement, the noise following us as he stands up, pressing me into his chest as he does so. Once again I'm set on my feet, body pressed up against Sensei's. Unlike last time, his hands dip past my waistband like I want. His fingers inch down my legs, his thumbs hooked around the waistband of my pants, tugging it down with his hands.

"I can't wait to make you feel good, little one," he whispers into my ear, his lips falling down my neck once the praise is out. When his arms are stretched as far down as possible, they crawl back up to me, leaving my bottoms to be pulled the rest of the way by gravity.

Sensei picks me up again, successfully leaving my pants abounded on the floor with my shirt. The bed is soft, almost as soft as Jiraiya's hold, when he sets me down. "Lay down, princess," the command is followed by peppered kisses across my shoulder blades.

The shifting of the bedsheets seems loud as I move around. I feel exposed with myself spread out, knees open as Jiraiya looks at my vulnerable spots. As if the shyness wasn't enough, I'm suddenly very aware of the situation going on right now. My Sensei - my teacher - is hovering over me as I'm very much nude under him.

"Jiraiya," my voice shakes out as I slowly close my knees. I keep my eyes locked on the ceiling, hoping that looking away from him and clinging to the bedsheets will help me ground myself.

"Hey," he calls softly, hands gently clasping my knees as his thumbs rub circles into me again. "What's going on in that smart little mind of yours?"

     "A lot," I whisper, closing my eyes to help focus on my breathing.

Lips brush against my stomach, making a path of swirls and curves as Sensei travels across my skin. "You're overwhelmed. It happens sometimes when you get stimulated for too long. We'll take a breather, give you time to calm down."

The explanation is followed by arms wrapping around me, pressing me into him again as he shifts us. When we're settled, my back is against his chest, his arms wrapping me up and resting in my lap, and his knees pressed up against mine, keeping me secured between his legs. Jiraiya's head is nestled into my neck, his nose brushing butterfly kisses into my skin.

"Sensei?" He pushes out a hum, the vibrations raking over my skin when his lips brush against my shoulder. "I know what being overstimulated is."

"Do you, sweetheart? I've spent about thirty minutes playing with you. After you enjoyed yourself in the shower and on my bed. So, it's safe to say you've been going for a little over an hour. Do you regularly overstimulate yourself for that long, little one?"

My cheeks warm from Jiraiya's words. He knows about all of it, he heard all of it. All my whines and whimpers for him. "Answer me, sweetie," he orders, poking my cheek before letting his arm fall back in place.

"No... I don't usually last longer than a couple minutes of it." My answer makes the temperature in my cheeks rise even more. Sensei is a pervy guy, of course, he knows more about situations like this than me.

"Mhm, that's what I thought," he mumbles, cockiness coating his words. It's quickly chased away by another line of kisses being pressed across my shoulders. It's soothing, having his body warmth envelop me as he presses soft kisses across my skin. "My pretty, little, obedient girl," he murmurs, hands going back to work, rubbing large circles on my inner thighs.

     I let my legs tumble open, bumping against his as I do so. "Sensei?"

     "Sweetheart?"

     The word sticks in my chest, the shyness coming back from earlier but luckily none of the overwhelmness. Instead, I let my hands slide backward, my fingers wrapping around the hem of his shirt before I tug on it. "Please?"

     "How am I supposed to say no to a request like that?" He teases, hands clenching my thighs to shift me forward. My ears ring with the sound of clothes shifting, causing the ache between my legs to ramp up again.

     When I'm pulled back into place, my chest connects to Jiraiya's scared chest. The rough tissue rubs against my back in a weird calming way. It's a reminder that it's my Sensei behind me, my Sensei touching me, my Sensei making me feel good. No one else's bare chest will ever feel like this against my back.

     "Spread your legs wider, Princess," he orders, moving me before I can do it myself. My legs are shifted, hooked around his so I'm spread wide. The mixed warmth of Jiraiya behind me and his fingers dancing over my inner thighs is intoxicating. "Good job, little one," he coos, small licks sliding over my neck as his fingers inch closer to my clothed pussy. "I'm going to touch you now, okay?"

     "Okay," I breathe out, tipping my head back so it's resting against his shoulder. My hands settle in his thighs, gripping them softly.

     Fingertips ghost over me, adding pressure on my hole again before focusing light circles to my clit. A hiss breath escapes me before my eyes snap closed. "Look at me sweetheart," Sensei orders, his nose bumping into mine when he turns his head.

     I reluctantly do as I'm told, snapping my eyes open with the fear of spooking myself again simmering in my head. "There are those pretty eyes," Jiraiya whispers, eyes glancing down at my lips. "Can I have a kiss, sweet girl?"

     "Yes."

     The distance between us is closed, his lips brushing against mine as his fingers work on tugging my panties down my legs.

     "Wider, sweet thing," Sensei mumbles against my mouth, his pressing against me again as he shifts our legs wider. "Fuck," he husks again, fingerings sliding through me and getting coated in my mess. "Open your mouth."

     I let my mouth fall open, Jiraiya's fingers quickly filling it. His fingers press down on my tongue as they slide down my throat. More soft curses spill from him as I suck myself off his skin. "I swear I could fuck you right now."

     "Please?" I ask from around his fingers, the word coming out butchered.

     Sensei stays silent for a moment, his mind torn between continuing my 'lesson' or giving me what I want. The answer is given to me when his fingers pop out of my mouth and go back to my pussy. I can't complain too much about the aching of my needs finally being met.

     My eyes stay locked on his as his fingers explore me, two of them slightly dipping into me before going back to rubbing circles into my clit. This is another test of my patience, an attempt to get me to thrust forward to be filled more. A test I won't fail.

     When Jiraiya is satisfied with the results, his lips brush against mine again. As my lips are busy with his, fingers plung into me, his knuckles rubbing against my folds as he pumps his digits in and out of me. "Hey," I drag out when Sensei curls his fingertips against my walls.

     "Hey," he mocks, the pace picking up ever so slightly as he stares back into my eyes.

     The pace stays as is, slow and rough with a mix of thrusts and curling. Just as I'm sure the bend of my orgasm is going to snap, I'm left empty and gapping. "Hey! That's... you can't do that," I whine, nails digging into the material of his pants.

     "I can and I did, sweetheart," Sensei answers, his soaked hand coming up to squeeze my breast. Opened-mouth kisses are pressed along my neck as he continues to squeeze my boob, his grip switching from being gentle to being a lot rougher.

     "We're going to play a game," I'm told, the words hard to process as Jiraiya slides his tongue over the previously pressed kisses.

     "We... we are?" I ask, my heavy breaths making it difficult to push out my question.

     Sensei hums a yes, hands dropping down to grip my thighs. "You are going to sit nice and pretty on my face like the pillow princess you are. As long as you're talking I'll play with you. If you stop talking, I stop playing. Does that sound fun?"

     "Ya, yes, yeah," I stumble out, leaning forward to get another kiss. I'm given what I want, a string of small kisses before a deeper one is pressed into my lips.

     After I'm given my kisses Jiraiya lifts me off of him, but quickly sets me back down on the bed beside him. My eyes trail over his body, taking in the way his chest muscles work to pump oxygen through him.

     My attention catches on his hands. I watch them slide down his body, quick to undo his pants and shove them off of him. The imprint of his dick in his boxers makes me pulse. His big, bigger than I thought he would be. I don't know why I'm surprised though, my Sensei is built like a brick.

     "Come here, sweet thing," he orders, hand gripping my thigh to tug me back on top of him. I'm pulled onto his chest, a leg on either side of him, before I'm shimmied upwards. Jiraiya's hot breath coats over my pussy, proving to me how wet I am. "Sit, sweetheart."

     I shift down a bit, the worry of suffocating my Sensei forcing me to stay hovered. "Where's my obedient girl at? I said sit," he repeats, hands gripping my thighs before I'm pulled the rest of the way down.

     "Jiraiya," I call when his tongue presses against my clit. My hands shoot forward, a fist full of his hair being clenched in my fingers. He hums in response, his tongue licking short strips against my nerve bundle.

     One, two, three more licks are pressed into me before he stops. "I... I don't... please? Sensei please?" My voice is rewarded, his tongue going back to work. "I don't... know what... what to talk about." The words stumble out of me as my hands brush through his hair, my fingers snagging on the knots.

     "I... I've... thought about this a lot and... oh my god." Jiraiya's tongue rolls around the rim of my hole before dipping into me, rubbing long strides against my walls. "You're really hot. Like... really hot and... I hate... I hate it when you're a flirty jackass with everyone."

     I'm lifted off his mouth, deep breaths being sucked in by the man under me. "That's because you're a jealous little thing. I'll stop being so flirty, sweet girl."

     I'm gently set back down on his mouth, his tongue jumping back and forth between my clit and my vagina. "Oh... okay... that's... that's good... fuck." My ears are filled with the sound of my Sensei slurping up my juices. Once my slick is cleaned up, his tongue is back to poking at my walls, quickly pushing me to my edge.

     "I... um... I don't know... how... you're going to fit." I can feel the smirk being pressed into me as Jiraiya continues his work, my pussy clenching around his tongue.

     When his mouth wraps around my clit, sucking it gently, my long-awaited orgasm washes over me. "Fucking Christ, Jiraiya. Holy fuck." My head tilts back, filling my sight with the ceiling as I grip his hair tighter. My hips thrust forward, his nose bumping into my clit as he dips his tongue back into my pussy.

     My orgasm works its way out, Jiraiya slurping and licking my mess up as it spills out. A couple more soft licks slide through my folds before I'm pulled back down his body, my dripping cunt resting against his chest as I pant above him.

     "That was quick, sweet thing. Maybe I shouldn't have toyed with you so much," he coos, rubbing soothing circles into my thighs. His face is smug and dripping as he looks up at me, quickly pushing me toward being ready for round two.

     "I'm... I'm sorry," I murmur, trying to calm my breathing down.

     "You don't need to be sorry, Princess. You did a good job," Sensei answers, his words calm as he shifts us on the bed again. I'm starting to enjoy getting manhandled by him.

     When he settles, I'm laid on top of him, my legs around his waist, his penis pressed into my bare pussy, and our hands tangled together.

     "Sensei," I huff out, my breath still heavy despite my attempts to calm it down. "You said you'd fuck me. I behaved, I was good, I passed every step." I whine, humping myself against him. The panic from earlier starts to rise in my chest again.

     "I know, little one, and I will, but you need to calm down again. You're getting too overwhelmed," Jiraiya says, his voice still soft and gentle as he denies me what I want. The disappointing words are followed by a handful of soft kisses to ease the denial.

     "You promised. You promised me. You said if I'm good you'd fill me up. You're not being fair." More whines tumble out of me as I grind against him. The feeling of being empty is so overwhelming it almost hurts.

     Sensei looks at me amused as he sways my hands next to his head. "I'll make you a deal, okay?" I eagerly nod, my pussy filled with sparks as I keep attacking my clit with his hard-on. "I will nestle myself into you, filling you up like I promised, but we're going to take a nap, okay?"

     "A nap?!" I yelp, another panicked wave washing through my chest. "Sensei-"

     "Yes, a nap. You're overwhelmed again, sweet girl. If I fuck you now, you're not going to enjoy it. I'll fill you up, all nice and full while we nap. Then, when we wake up I'll fuck you, okay? I promise, Princess."

     "Fine," I huff out, the sudden feeling of my body vibrating overflowing my nerves.

     Jiraiya untangles his fingers from mine, gently pushing me onto all fours. I stay still, arching over him as he tugs his boxers off. The last piece of clothing is thrown to the ground, joining the rest of our clothes.

     "Nice and easy, sweetheart," he orders, his warm hands wrapped around my hips once again. A long moan seeps from me as Sensei lowers me onto his dick. It stretches me out, pushing me to my limits as it sinks into me. By the time I'm back on top of his lap, I swear I can see it imprinted on my stomach.

     "Nap time, sweet thing," Jiraiya orders, his arms wrapping around my back before pulling me against his chest. I rest my head on his shoulder, letting his body heat seep into my shaky muscles. My fingers dance over his scar as the feeling of Sensei buried deep into me fills my head.

     "I don't see why you can't fuck me now."

     "Patience, little one," he orders, words coated in sleep.

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[chrrywavs]

Cherry Lips 🍒

*ੈ✩‧₊˚𝔖𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶: You meet with Eddie in the woods, needing to stock up on some much needed ‘materials’ only to find out your a couple dollars short. Eddie being the oh so a generous man that he is makes a suggestion to help his dear friend (and himself) out of this predicament.

ੈ✩‧₊˚𝔚𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: gagging, choking, 18+, aggressive smut, cum play, spit play, tiny perv! Eddie, teasing, degrading, praising, pet names, hair pulling, absolute filth.

ੈ✩‧₊˚ 𝔓𝔞𝔦𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤: Eddie Munson x fem reader

Pt2 here

╔══ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ══╗

Your tongue stroked a long lick, pressing flat against the throbbing vein running along the underside of his cock.

Eddie pulled you away “Such a little tease aren’t you (y/n)” He said through gritted teeth. He cupped your chin and caressed your bottom lip with the base of his thumb. “play nice” he warned.

You nodded, biting your lip to hide the small smirk that threatened to form. You were feeling a bit rebellious today, ditching school, buying pot from your hot dealer then sucking his dick behind the school in an old van. You weren’t in the mood to play nice. You gave the tip a small daring lick, never breaking eye contact with Eddie before placing a small gentle kiss on the swollen end, squeezing your fist ever so slightly.

“For fucks sake” he cursed. Eddie knotted his fingers into your hair, gripping your locs tightly before snapping his hips forward, forcing himself deep into your mouth.

You gagged at the feeling of his dick abusing your throat.

“This is what you wanted huh? For me to Fuck you like the whore you are?” he grunted.

You tried to distract yourself from the stinging at your eyes and tried to recount what exactly happened that brought you to this exact moment.

༺✯༻

The bell rang bringing you back to reality you looked at the clock 11:55 am. You sighed gathering your books into your arms. Finally lunch time or in your case quitting time. You had one more thing to do before finally being able to go home and sleep while the rest of the kids in Hawkins spent the next miserable four hours wishing to be home.

You pushed past the crowd of students keeping your eyes locked on the bright glass doors at the end of the hall. The taste of freedom getting stronger with every step. Just a few more feet and—

“(Y/l/n) where do you think your headed?” A stern voice called out behind you. “I sure hope You’re not planning on leaving, we have that test today.”

You turned around to see Ms. O’Donnell standing at her doorway with her hand at her hip. You smiled walking towards her “of course not Ms. D I wouldn’t dream of missing it.” You clutched the books tighter against your chest. “just needed to get something from my truck is all, nothing to worry about.” you said with a small shrug.

She stared through the top of her thin rectangular glasses and pressed her lips together humming with skepticism. “Alright…so I should expect to see you later.” she said more as a demand rather then a question.

“Definitely,” you nodded with a small smirk “see you then.” You waved at her turning around and letting out a heavy sigh before continuing your walk.

༺✯༻

You sat at the wooden bench waiting for Eddie to arrive. You picked at a loose thread at your sleeve as you thought about him. You’d seen him today in the halls but you hadn’t seen him for gym.

‘had he ditched?’ You thought to yourself. You began to wonder if he had forgotten about you. ‘I should’ve reminded him when I saw him.’ you thought groaning and throwing your hands over your face.

You couldn’t ever count on him to be on time let alone show up he wasn’t dependent enough. Normally you wouldn’t mind you can always catch him after school but you needed him now, you wouldn’t have time later. you sat in silence for a few more minutes listening to the birds chirping between the trees. Your thin red sweater doing nothing to protect you from the cool breeze that bit at your skin.

Just when you had about enough, finally his playful voice met your ears “(y/n) my favorite customer!” He shouted.

You turned around to look at the tall man jogging towards you, his long wavy hair bouncing along behind him. He was met with a scowl. “took you long enough.” you spat “the hell were you doing?” You rolled your eyes turning back around.

“I had to piss” Eddie shrugged setting his black metallic lunch box down.

You crossed your arms “For fifteen minutes?”

Eddie sat down letting out a heavy sigh. He couldn’t ever really tell a lie to you, you somehow always knew how to bring out the truth from him. Maybe it was the spine chilling stare you’d give him, or the fact that you were eerily smart, either way you creeped him out enough. “Okay you got me…I was half way home already before I remembered about you.” He admitted. “But I’m here now sooo….” He smiled turning his attention to his lunchbox.

“Yeah well you owe me a ‘having to wait for my loser dealer discount.”

“Hey,” Eddie pointed toward you “don’t be greedy.” He scolded. Eddie pulled out the clear bag with the dried substance inside. “So you asked for two and a half ounces…which means you owe me seventy five bucks” he said as he waved the bag around.

You pulled out your black coin purse taking out the roll of cash you had shoved in there earlier this morning and handed it over to Eddie.

“This is all of it?” You asked tossing the bag up and down from your palm testing the weight.

“Yep, all seventy grams. You can weigh it if you want.” He said counting the money.

“S’fine I trust you.” You waved him off.

“Yeah uh…” Eddie paused for a moment looking back up towards you. “This isn’t the full amount.”

“The what?” You questioned.

“This is only sixty, your missing fifteen dollars”

“Nuh-uh, I had eighty in there” you pointed towards the cash. “I was gonna give you a bit more for driving me home last week.” You explained pulling the cash from Eddies hand and counting it yourself.

Sure enough you were fifteen dollars short. you stopped to think. “Crap” you groaned. “I babysat a kid yesterday, she must’ve seen the money and taken some.”

“I can’t give you all of this.” Eddie pulled the bag back “I’m gonna have to take some out.”

“Oh c’mon eddie please? Can you give me like a discount? Just for this one time.” You pleaded.

“I am giving you a discount, I’m giving you the ‘friend discount’ this would’ve been way more!” Eddie argued.

You huffed “please, I need all of it.”

Eddie paused for a moment watching as you dropped your head in defeat. If it were up to him he would’ve given it all to you. you were a loyal customer and one of his closest friends he knew you’d find a way to pay him back, but he needed to give Rick the full percentage. “What do you need all this weed for anyway?” He mumbled toying with the bag.

“My friend got invited to a party downtown, she said if I could buy some from you cause she thinks you like me better then her.”

“She’s not wrong…” Eddie sighed scratching the small stumble at his chin. He stayed quiet for a few moments watching as you bit your lips lost in thought. Your cheeks were a bright pink from the cool air and your hair flew to your side exposing your slim neck. suddenly the cool air wasn’t bothering him as much as the warm feeling in his pants was.

He looked down at the growing bulge scrunching his brows together annoyed at the horrible timing. He looked back up towards you just in time to catch you adjusting your bra strap exposing the black material. He gulped.

He had to admit you were always quite attractive to him, however he never really gave you a second thought. Sure maybe he would take quick meaningless glances down your shirt when you weren’t looking or he would sometimes walk behind you when you wore a tight dress or a short skirt just to get a good view of your behind but they were all harmless acts. To him you two were better off as friends and maybe that was the best decision for the both of you. You couldn’t handle a loose cannon like Eddie. You liked stability and peace. Meanwhile Eddie was the opposite he needed chaos he loved being at the edge of his seat. But that doesn’t mean the two of you couldn’t explore a different level of friendship.

༺✯༻

Maybe it was the way you begged and whined or the way Eddies shirt hugged his torso nicely defining his abs, maybe it was the way the red sweater cut deep down your chest exposing some cleavage or maybe, it was the fact that neither of you hadn’t gotten any action in months. either way, it led the two of you down a path you can never turn back from. A dark sinful dirty path. maybe he should’ve kept driving home and never turned the car around to come back for you.

Eddie gripped your throat tightly holding your head in place as he thrusted into your gaping mouth. Your fingers found there way into your panties spreading your soaked lips apart to relieve the stinging feeling at your cunt. You moaned at your touch sending vibrations throughout eddies cock.

“Fuck (y/n)” He groaned watching you rut your hip’s against your own fingers “Such a slut.” he chuckled out shaking his head in disbelief. “touching yourself to me fucking your pretty little face. You like the taste of my cock, don’t you?” He cooed.

You struggled to nod your head against his hold. Your fingers rubbing small frantic circles on your swollen clit. You’ve always had a thing for Eddie ever since last year when you watched him pop the tires of your ex’s car for cheating on you. That woke up something deep inside you that you’ve been trying to suppress. but now it’s fully unleashed, and you don’t give a damn, at least not now of course.

Eddie pulled himself out, a string of saliva connecting his dick to your mouth. You gasped for air as he slapped the head of his cock against your cheek “M’gonna need to hear you say it sweetheart, be a good girl and tell me how much you like it.” He growled before leaning down to your level and spitting into your mouth. He smeared the mixture of his and your own spit over your face. “Tell me how much you like it.” He repeated pulling you up from your knees.

“L-love it so much baby,” you cooed palming his dick “think I might be addicted.”

Eddies hand trailed up your side stopping at the strap of your bra. He hooked his fingers into the Lacey material and yanked down the strap, your breast slipping out in the process “nice tit” he smirked before taking the skin into his mouth and sucking at your already hard nipple. You bit your lip suppressing the moan fighting to escape. Eddies tongue flicked against the small nub, causing you to involuntarily arch your back towards him.

You tangled your fingers into his hair pulling him closer to you, wrapping a leg around his waist and rubbing yourself up against him desperate for friction of any kind.

Eddie moaned at the warmth radiating from between your legs bitting down on your nipple. “Eddie!” you gasped. He chuckled rolling his hips into yours. His unclothed dick rubbing against your clothed cunt, the thin material being soiled by your dripping pussy.

“So wet your dripping from your little panties baby” he cooed “I wonder who made you so wet?”

“All you Ed’s—ah fuck!—you make me so wet.” you whimpered into his ear before pulling him in for a deep slobbery kiss. Your hand wrapping around his warm cock and squeezing the angry tip.

“Fuck sweetheart,” he huffed into your mouth. “gonna make me cum and I haven’t even fucked you yet.”

“Don’t care Ed’s” you whined twisting your fist around his dick. “Make me feel so good already.” You began jerking him off watching through half lidded eyes as his face contoured into one of pleasure.

“T-tell me what you want (y/n), I’ll do it” he panted while rutting his hips against your closed fist.

“I wanna swallow all your cum.,” you whispered “I want you to make me all filthy, please-” before you could finish Eddie slammed his lips into yours once more. His tongue taking full dominance, spit dribbling down both your chins.

You ran your thumb across his tip using the precum as lube. You whined as he bit your bottom lip, the taste of metal flooding your kiss. Nothing but the whimpers coming from both you and Eddie along with the lewd wet sounds of his cock soaking your fist echoed through his van. It was absolutely filthy but you both relished at the sound.

Eddie drew back tugging your swollen lip between his teeth. “Don’t worry (y/n) when I’m done with you no man will ever be able to step close to you, you’ll smell of nothing else but me.” He promised whispering into your ear, you replied with a whimper to cock drunk to say a single word.

before you even realize he’s pushing you back down to your knees. he smirked down at you before thrusting himself back into your mouth, bottoming back out and lunging his hips forward once more, You gagged each time his tip kissed your throat.

At this point Your head sat enclosed between the wall behind you and Eddies hips. The dark bush of his pelvic area tickling your nose each time he thrusted into you. “Fuck I’m gonna cum (y/n)” He grunted pushing his cock deep into your mouth, your throat pulsating around it.

You shook your head trying to take Eddie deeper then he already was. “Look at you taking my cock so well—fuck—such a good girl, my good fucking girl” you moaned at the name the vibrations being to much for Eddie to handle. He pulled himself out jerking himself off at the sight of your swollen cherry lips and flushed face. Your red strained eyes from lack of oxygen could have easily hypnotized anyone.

You leaned over taking one of his balls into your mouth releasing it with a pop “mmm fuck Eddie t’so good” you moaned, batting your lashes up at him and taking the other one whole into your mouth. You hollowed your cheeks, swirling your tongue around the wrinkled skin savoring the salty taste.

“F-fuck! I’m so close—so fucking close!” he said through gritted teeth. You reached your hand to his balls squeezing them “give it to me Eddie please” you whimpered, eyes half lidded as you watched Eddie fuck into his own fist so desperate to reach his end.

Your soft plead was enough to make any man fall to they’re knees. Eddies motions became messy no longer being able to keep the same consistent pace. “Ah Shit!” He hissed slapping his angry red tip against your tongue. You pulled off your bra fully exposing yourself. The cool air biting at your nipples.

“Open your mouth” he panted “m’gonna— fuck!” Eddie cursed coiling forward as His warm sticky liquid squirted sporadically out onto your tongue, your face and some even falling to your heaving chest.

Eddie slowly opened his eyes witnessing the complete mess he made over his friend. “Oh sweetheart” He collected his release from your cheek with his finger “look at the mess we made” he cooed shoving it into your mouth.

You whimpered sucking the white bitter substance clean off his salty skin. “So good (y/n)” Eddie smiled down at you, sending your stomach in flips.

he gripped his sensitive cock spreading his cum everywhere he could even sometimes dipping back into your parted lips for warmth a line of spit always following behind.

“I’m all dirty Eddie” you whined playfully, taking the mixture of spit and cum from your dripping chin and smearing it on your nipple, tugging at the small nub. “Is it my turn to make you all filthy?“ you asked teasingly and cocking your head to it’s side.

Eddies chuckled “Oh fuck yes.” He laid flat on his back pointing towards his face “sit down” He demanded his dick already half hard ready for more.

╚══ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ══╝

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

[nrdmssgs]

The dropouts (part 2)

Masterlist

Part 1 I you are here I Part 3 I Part 4 I Part 5 I Part 6

Genre: Angst, hurt/comfort, action, slow burn.

Pairing: Olga 'Zhar' Samoilova (OC) x Nikto

Summary: Nikto tries to remember, why didn’t he kill his competitor on a battlefield. And when he fails to recall - he asks her personally.

TWs: This whole series will be revolving around a person living with an acute dissociative disorder. Depiction of an act of self harming.

“Cmon, commander, I know, you can make it happen.”

There are very few people out there, who manage to stay unbothered by Niktos intence piercing gaze. König is one of them.

“I can make many things happen.” Colonels voice is cold and calm. “Doesn’t mean, i am actually going to.”

“Kak znal, blya,”* mutters Nikto, and then takes a step forward. “I fucked up. Big time. I admit, König.”

Now this is rare. So rare to hear Niktos apologies, that Colonel stops roaming through the reports on his desk and finally looks back at him. To Königs disappointment, his subordinate shuts up at the very same moment.

“You think, it’s a punishment?”

“That you can make one phone call and let me meet that soldier for a talk, but you specifically choose to not? Exactly after I fucked up my last mission? Looks pretty much like a sanction to me.”

“And what are going to talk about?”

Nikto clenches his teeth to not let the “that’s not of your business” out, so König continues.

“KorTac has no beef with Chimera and that’s how I plan to keep things between us. Sending you to whatever you mean under ‘the talk’ you want to have with their second in command, doesn’t sound like a winning strategy here.”

Second in command? Nikto could easily strangle that soldier with his bare hands and they put her in charge? He smirks under the mask to the thought of how easily the notorious Nikolais PMC could get beheaded.

“Only you couldn’t even touch her.” A too familiar voice awakes deep inside Niktos skull. He ignores it, not wanting to show König how unwell is he right now. But it seems like his boss has nothing more to tell him, so Nikto leaves his office.

“She was so ridiculously tiny next to us. Standing there, calling for us, begging to be broken. And you failed.”

“Shut up.” Nikto mutters in a low voice, so that nobody around notices.

Every long hallway looks just like a previous one. He turns left twice, then right. The voices don’t like this part of the base: usually they feel lost here, they beg him to stop going in circles and lead them out to the fresh air. They try to convince him, it’s an endless maze, but Nikto knows the way out. He learned it but heart. Left, left, right, down, left, up, up, right. No matter how loud they cry for help, how convinced they are, that they all are doomed - Nikto follows the path. Usually the voices forget everything, they were talking about previously, when they are dragged here. Usually. But not today.

“Could have drowned her in a puddle of mud. Could have broken every limb: nice and slow. Could have fed her our knife and stomped on her face. But you failed. Surrendered.”

“Shut up.” He hisses, dragging a long exhale through the clenched teeth.

“Failure. Bet, she’s laughing at you right now.”

“Zavali ebalo, mraz!”* His voice echoes in an empty hall, but Nikto doesn’t care anymore. With one swift motion he takes out his knife and pins his own palm against the wall, pushing the blade into the heavily scarred skin. The voices switch to the pain, Nikto is causing to himself. The invisible choir screams around him, but Nikto only pushes the blade deeper. Dark red strains run down his arm and color his uniform sleeve in crimson.

***

Nikto didn’t abandon his plans to meet the Chimera soldier. She owed him an explanation, but even more - she owed him a story. Because he couldn’t remember anything after the gun shot fired right over his face. Luckily he hasn’t exhausted all avenues to meet her yet. KorTac employees were quite free to take any mission as private contractors as long as it wasn’t at cross-purposes with the company plans.

Nikto searched and took any contract that promised crossing paths with Chimeras: from small courier missions to large operations bordering with heists. For two months this kept making his bank account prettier, but that wasn’t what he craved. Nikto kept searching, hunting for that soldier restlessly, until one day they met.

***

It feels like one of the most boring private contracts, he ever took: he’s a bodyguard for some shady piece of shit, who tries to start a business with the Chimera. His employee asked Nikto, if he’s ready to be left trapped with a half of an enemy army. Niktos answer was plain.

“It wont be me trapped with them, it will be them trapped with me.”

Nikto checks the private room in a rowdy club, where his clients meeting is planned, and walks outside.

“You’re clear to enter, i will be right behind the door. Anything goes wrong, or at least seems to go wrong - you call me. Just don’t make sudden moves.” He instructs the employee and leans against the wall, waiting for the other party to arrive.

They enter the hall at the very last minute before the official meeting time. First comes a tall man, his face is hidden behind a dark green tactical net. His eyes scan the hall and stop, meeting Niktos gaze.

“Zhar, they brought a fancy door stopper.” He sounds amused and relieved, as if he too was too bored with the upcoming meeting.

“Stop scoffing Krueger,” Nikto recalls this voice immediately, his body tenses, a cold hard knot forms somewhere deep in his throat. “They can bring whoever they-“

She falls silent as soon as her partner walks past Nikto revealing them to each other. Her gaze is the same as it was back when they first met. Grey irises with a slightly brighter green flame dancing around her pupils. Eyes of a bird of prey, looking at him with such an intensity, that he feels as if she sees right through his mask, maybe even right through his skin. She doesn’t say a word to him, only commands her soldier to wait for her and disappears behind the door.

A loud club music is muffled by many doors separating this place from the main hall. Krueger looks around in a search of anything to keep himself busy, but there is nothing out there. So he gives in and turns to Nikto.

“How much do they pay you?”

Nikto doesn’t realize, the guy is talking to him, until he repeats his question.

“Not enough.” Nikto smirks. “And you? Does this Zhar pay you extra for the curtain to stay on?”

“You’re so not ready for this talk, mister Aliexpress Voorhees.”

They both stay silent for a few long minutes and then Nikto lets out a very short chuckle. It is a rare occasion, a stranger breaks the ice in a first talk with him. Krueger laughs back, more relaxed and openly, and then adds.

“Zhar didn’t like you for some reason. But if you don’t do anything stupid - we should be good.”

Nikto knows exactly, why this woman didn’t appreciate meeting him. But that is not his story to share with any Chimera other than her. He looks at the door, behind which his client has a meeting and thinks, what will he say to Zhar once he has a chance. He stands still, but his heart rushes so fast as if he was running after someone for hours already.

The door opens and his client marches out with a mixed expression on his face. Nikto starts following him as soon as the man walks past him.

“Avoid having business with the Russians at any costs. Zhar, her boss Nikolai - both greedy as fuck, will push you for every penny.”

Nikto remains silent, wondering if his Slavic accent wasn’t obvious enough for the client to notice, that he himself hired a Russian. They walk through the corridors and halls of the club, Nikto scans the surroundings in a search of any external danger, but everything seems fine.

When his client is finally back in the car - Nikto turns back to the club almost immediately, as his contract ends right here. He rushes through the dancing crowd back to the door to private rooms. On his way out, he didn’t pay much attention to these people, just made sure, they don’t stand in his clients way. But now he grows more irritated with every next body not moving away fast enough. He’s in a hurry - Zhar can leave any minute now, if she hasn’t already left through some back door. He pushes obstacles away, not carrying for their frustrated yells, that are cut off only, when people around him see, what a massive beast is striding from an entrance to a VIP zone.

Nikto catches them in the hall: Zhar stops in her tracks, watching the tremendous soldier marching right to her. When there are no more than four meters left between them - Krueger points his pistol Nikto in the face. His friendly demeanor is gone in a second, but Nikto remembers the rules.

“Not planning anything stupid,” Nikto slowly raises hands. “Just need to talk. Privately.”

“Dream on,” growls Krueger, but Zhar cuts him off with a silent gesture.

She looks up Nikto in the eyes, as if she can read something there. Her gaze awakes an uncanny feeling deep in his guts - he feels paralyzed, helpless once again. Just when she put a knife to his throat back on the battlefield. It feels like forever, but after a few moments she finally nods.

“Your weapons stay outside the room. The door stays open. I have…” She hesitates, glancing at Krueger.

“Ten minutes top, commander. Your transport is coming soon.”

“Ten minutes, soldier,” the woman repeats after Krueger and nod to the entrance, “Come in, let’s make it quick and easy.”

They spend the first minute in silence: Nikto is tapping an erratic rhythm on the table top and Zhar just leans against the back of a comfy sofa, using every minute to rest before further work. Usually Nikto is absolutely calm about the tight timing on missions. It adds challenge, makes his work more or less entertaining. But now every second puts more pressure on him. He had plenty of time to plan this talk, he replayed it on and on for two months, while he was chasing her, he had the right words for every possible reaction of hers. But right now all the plans, all the variations of his lines mix together, clash and transform into some nonsense.

She takes a deep breath in and Nikto notices, that she looks worn out.

“Tough meeting?” He doesn’t know, where did this question come for: he didn’t come here to feel for her.

“You sure you want to spend next nine minutes discussing my work?” She squints her eyes and massages her temples. And that is when Nikto finally recalls one of the lines he prepared for the start of their talk.

“Callsign is Nikto, I work for-“

“Who you are is nothing, big guy.” Niktos fingers run cold after she says that. Is it because of his callsign? She just mocks him for being called ‘nobody’?* To his relief, she continues talking after a short pause. “What you are is everything. And what exactly are you right now? A message? A weapon? A threat?”

He clenches his jaw. Something deep inside him is begging to snap back at her with a harsh reaction, but he holds back.

“A man with a question.”

“Shoot,” Zhar finally opens her eyes and moves closer to the desk, closer to him.

“Back there. Why didn’t you kill me?”

“You think, I should have?” An unkind smile starts spreading on her face like an ugly scar. A smile, Nikto wishes to put away from her face right there for good.

“Na vopros otvechai!”* His voice grows angry, low rumbling resembling predatory growl. He wasn’t sure, she would understand his mother tongue: nowadays one doesn’t even have to be born in Russia to get called ‘a greedy Russian’. But a sudden change of her face expression signalizes, that she understood him just right.

Zhar moves to the very edge of the sofa and reaches out to him. Her hand freezes in mere centimeters from his chest, or to be more precise - from the empty Velcro slot.

“There was something right there. A KorTac patch. Pretty little thing.” Ugly grimace gradually fades from her face with every next word as she seems so relax, telling Nikto her story. “I was out of ammo, any radio turned useless after traders turned on their jammers, and I couldn’t run forever from this soldier, with his questionable arms choices. When I saw it on you - it dawned on me: you were my ticket out of there. My people find me - I come back with a reason, another PMC owes us a big one, your people find me - I have a hostage, that costs getting my ass out of there. The third party finds me-“

“You serve them my ass as an offering.” Nikto finishes the line for her. “Smart. So, who found you first?”

“You got out of there alive.” She leans back and crosses arms on her chest. “That’s what matters, Niktó.”

It doesn’t escape his ear, that the woman uses a heavy Slavic pronouncement for his callsign, stressing the last vowel. He feels, that their talk grows useless: both sides are still too frustrated by everything that happened between them. They don’t want to share anything too personal with each other, sensing that it might get used against them. But at the same time Nikto wants to get her talking. He needs to remember the full scene to understand, what happened to him. The only thing that stops him - he wouldn’t want to admit he has this choir of voices that sometimes take the wheel, leaving him no memories of what they have done.

“Maybe I have a soft spot for those who know, how to choose the right instrument for any occasion. And maybe I want to know if I’ve proven a fitting instrument for your needs back then?”

“You weren’t an instrument, you were a man trying to kill me.” Zhar abruptly stands up hinting him that this conversation is about to end. “Now how about we both admit that it all ended well and leave each other alone, no hard feelings?”

Nikto smirks, but quickly realizes, his mask hides his face expression. So he rises from his seat, takes off his glove and reaches out for a handshake. When Zhar squeezes his palm, he is about to say good buy, but instead of that he almost automatically tights his grip around her wrist and asks if they will ever meet again.

“We don’t need to. You do your job, I stick to mine. And Nikto…” Suddenly there is heavy fatigue clearly audible in her voice. Zhar falls silent for a moment, as if trying to find the right words. “The room is booked by Chimera until much later. It’s yours if you want, drinks on me. For… for not doing whatever you planned back there.”

She pulls her hand away and Nikto reluctantly gives up on holding it. He wouldn’t admit it, but the only condition, on which he would really agree to stay here: if she could stay as well. He wouldn’t even want to talk: just close the damn door to kill the last muffled booming music sounds and let her nap here for a bit. There is something deeply wrong with her professional demeanor cracking every few minutes under the pressure of a weariness. It seems like she’s running on fumes.

It seems like he cares.

* “Kak znal, blya,” - “I fucking knew it.”

* “Zavali ebalo, mraz!” - “Shut the fuck up, scum!”

* Nikto can be roughly translated to Russian as nobody no one.

* “Na vopros otvechai!”* - “Answer the question!”

[lynzishell]

Prev // Next

Transcript:

Today started out well. Kiyoshi was right about doing the climb in April. The weather has been beautiful and clear the whole way. They’ve covered a lot of ground, passing the time and keeping morale high by singing songs and telling stories.

However, as the day goes on, their pace has slowed. They’ve become silent over the last hour, each lost in their own thoughts. The thinning air taking its toll. Their muscles aching and tired.

Dawn doesn’t want to admit it, but she’s feeling especially fatigued. Her vision sometimes gets a bit shaky, and a dull ache has been forming behind her right eye. She slows her pace when the nausea hits and stops when she realizes she’s going to throw up.

Phoenix is startled when Dawn suddenly leaves his side to run off the trail, and his stomach twists with worry.

He runs up and tugs on Atlas’s sleeve to stop him and let him know about his sister.

Phoenix: Let’s stop here. I’ll go check on her. Atlas nods, feeling his anxiety spike as well.

Phoenix: Can I get you anything? Dawn: No, I’m fi- Dawn stumbles forward a little before she can finish her sentence. Dawn: Fuck.

She’s suddenly angry that she’s the one getting sick. She’s a stronger climber than both Phoenix and Atlas, and beat all three of them in every endurance challenge. It doesn’t make sense. As far as she’s concerned, the universe is a sexist asshole.

Frustrated and tired, Dawn tries to get back to the hike, but Phoenix stops her.

Dawn: I’m fine. Phoenix: You’re not fine. Now is not the time to tough it out. Let’s slow down, rest. There’s a spot up ahead where we can set up camp and finish the climb tomorrow. Dawn: We don’t have to do that, I’m-

Phoenix: Don’t say ‘fine’. Dawn: [sighs] I could use a break, but we don’t need to stay all night. We should keep going. Phoenix: There’s no rush.

But she pushes him away, clearly not wanting to hear him out. Phoenix looks up at Atlas, giving him a “help me out here?” look.

Atlas catches up with Dawn as she walks away from Phoenix, and pulls her aside.

Dawn: I promise I’m okay. Atlas: I know, I believe you. I’m not though. Dawn: What? Atlas: I didn’t want to say anything. I’m not feeling well, and I can’t get my eyes to focus. I think I need to close them for a bit. Can we stay? Continue tomorrow instead?

She knows what he’s doing and is tempted to tell him to fuck off, but she doesn’t. They have a pact. They look out for each other, take care of each other, always. She can’t risk that he might be telling the truth.

Dawn: Yeah. Yeah, of course. Do you need anything? Atlas: Can you get me one of those bars? I think I just need to eat something and rest. Dawn: Sure.

Atlas looks back toward Phoenix who mouths “thank you”, and he nods in return.

[happy-beeeps]

Slip of the Tongue

WC: 1.3k

Pairing: PoexMando!reader (Mando a la Sabine, not Din)

Prompt: “You look so pretty” “What did you say?” “I said you look shitty.” from @ghostofskywalker fic exchange because I saw someone write Tech with this prompt and it changed my life.

Warnings: language I guess, but that’s it! Pure fluff~

A/N: This is a oneshot, but I’m gonna start writing more for this pairing soon, I think!

“My favorite thing about you is that you continuously surprise me every day with the new ways you manage to be so stupid.” You say, barely audible over the sound of the power tool Poe is using on one of the open consoles in the Falcon. He cranes his neck over to where you’re at, suspended by a harness working on the ceiling of the ship, head angled towards him.

“And you surprise me everyday with just how romantic you can actually be.” He chirps back, sending you a wink as he gets back to work. You’re grateful he can’t see your expression now beneath your helmet, the glare you’re shooting at him and the rising blush on your cheeks.

Your work on the Falcon seems to neverend, and despite you and Poe’s mutual deep seeded hatred for one another, he’s begrudgingly told you that he “respects your craftsmanship” and refuses to take the Falcon to any other mech in the Resistance. You, in turn, get the immense privilege of working on the ship of your childhood dreams, learning the ins and outs of the hunk of metal. Besides, with Poe comes BB-8, Rey, and Finn, and you much prefer his team to the pilot himself. Today, unfortunately, Poe’s fancy flying has not only placed the Falcon in need of medical attention, but Finn as well, and you’re left alone with Poe to work on the fried circuitry and damaged hyperdrive. 

“What was it this time? Hyperdrive jumping?”

“Correction. I was avoiding hyperdrive jumping by gravity launching, you know, going in and out of the different moons and propelling myself forward with it.”

“Both an impressive technique and an impressive failure.” You sigh, and he pokes his head out to peak at you. 

“What’s it gonna take to impress you, huh Mando?”

You cringe at the nickname. Well, not as much cringe as you do blush, but still. “I’ll be impressed when you can get her back to me in one piece.”

He smirks, “Yeah, but then I don’t have any excuse to come see you.” When you don’t respond at first he continues, “I bet your helmet is getting steamy just thinking about me.”

He narrowly avoids the wrench you throw at his head.

Poe is remarkably frustrating, he has the unique ability of getting under your skin more than nearly anyone you know, and you’ve worked with Mandalorian coverts and Imperials. It also doesn’t help that he’s sickeningly attractive, and knows it, and you can’t help but wonder if you didn’t hate him so much if you could love him. He’s clearly got a soft side, BB-8 is the most precious droid in the world and follows him around like his shadow, and you’ve never known Finn or Rey to be a bad judge of character. Still, there’s something so aggravating about him that you can barely stand to be in his presence. Then, just as he steps back from the spot near the wall to admire his work, you see him in all his glory, and it dawns on you. Poe is remarkably beautiful. His sleeves are pushed up past his elbows, and his curls are flopping haphazardly around his face, partially slicked back with sweat, and despite it you have a fleeting feeling of wanting to run your hands through his hair. His shirt hangs open in the front and clings to his chest, and he has grease coating his hands and running up his arms, and it makes him look even more ruggedly handsome, as if that was possible. 

“You are so pretty” you whisper, then clamp your lips together and pray it was soft enough that it doesn’t get picked up by the modulator in your helmet. Fate is not on your side today, however, and Poe glances at you with wide eyes and a smile.

“What did you say?”

“I said you look shitty.” You respond, voice hurried and nervous. 

He doesn’t buy it, not for a moment, and walks over to where you’re suspended, placing a grease covered hand on the cheek of your helmet. “You sure about that, mando?” Before walking down the ramp of the ship and towards the base. You let go a sigh you hadn’t realized you were holding before removing your helmet, and sure enough, inspecting the large grease-print he’s left on your beskar. 

“Dank ferric, Dameron.” You hiss, but he’s already gone.

* * *

You’re in your quarters, scrubbing away at the stubborn mark Poe left on your helmet, mumbling to yourself, when you’re distracted from your work by a tap on the foot. BB-8 is in front of you, beeping excitedly and rolling around your quarters. “Hey buddy,” you smile, setting your helmet down beside you to pat the little droid. 

“How's the cleaning?” comes a voice from the hallway, and you whip your head back to the doorway to see the insufferable pilot looming in it.

“Come to admire your handiwork?” You say, gesturing to the still spotted helmet beside you.

He laughs and lets himself into your quarters, looking at the various discarded armor pieces and ship pieces lying around before letting his eyes fall back to you. “Something like that, yeah.”

You feel tiny underneath the intensity of his stare, and now worry that you may have 

offended him with your comment earlier. “Look, Poe, I-”

“I was thinking about what you said earlier.”

You wince. “Oh?”

“I think you look shitty too.” He states, walking towards you and picking up the helmer from the floor. “I think you look so shitty with your helmet on.” He brushes a hand over it delicately, so carefully that you stand up immediately.

“Ok, listen, I didn’t mean-”

“You look super shitty when you’re in a flight suit too, when you join us on a mission.” He’s looking back around your room now, and your mouth is opening and closing like a fish. 

“Excuse me?”

“You look even more shitty when you meet Rey for a drink, and you wear that one green top with the,” he moves his arm across his chest to indicate a cutout, you think, when you imagine the green top he’s thinking of.

“Poe.”

“But,” and he moves to stand in front of you, his chest rising and falling quickly now, and you realize how red his cheeks are when he’s standing in front of you. “I think you look most shitty right now, with your hair like this, in your rec clothes, hanging out with bb-8.” And then Poe Dameron does the most unthinkable thing. In a quick movement, he runs his fingers over the hair by your ear, pulls his other hand up to meet your face, and cups your cheeks to bring you in for a kiss.

And oh. Oh. You get it. You get absolutely every good thing that’s ever been said about Poe Dameron before. He tastes like sweets and a little bit of alcohol and smells like fuel and something warm and musky, is it amber? He kisses you with the slowness of a nervous man and the hunger of a starved one, before pulling back and looking at you.

“Did you get it? The shitty thing? Because you said I was pretty and then shitty?”

“I got it, Poe.” You breathe, arms draped around his neck. You haven’t moved since you both pulled apart, and neither of you wants to break the moment first, worried you’ll scare it away. 

He makes the first move, going to play with a piece of hair that slipped free from your braid, running it between his fingers. “You really are pretty, Mando,” he mumbles, and you blush before opening your mouth to respond. He doesn’t let you, instead pulling you in for another kiss. Poe Dameron doesn’t need you to tell him you think he’s pretty. He already knows.