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#adcu fanfic
mrs-gucci · 7 months
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Drive-In
{ flip zimmerman x female reader }
anon
Can I please request going to a horror movie drive in with Flip where he hopes the movie will be louder than the noises you both make lol :)
warnings. SMUT (18+ ONLY), high risk sex (car sex around other people), reverse cowgirl, barebacking, creampie.
word count: 525
★ written for sextember 2023 ★
** CLICKING “KEEP READING” MEANS YOU UNDERSTAND & ACKNOWLEDGE ALL OF THE WARNINGS LISTED ABOVE AND ARE OVER THE AGE OF 18. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK, YOUR CONTENT CONSUMPTION IS YOUR RESPONSIBILITY. MINORS DNI. **
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collage by me :)
Creepy music plays loudly through the drive-in speakers as the spectators in surrounding cars stare up at the large movie screen, eating their popcorn and drinking their sodas hesitantly, waiting for the impending jump scare.
You and Flip, however, had lost interest in the movie about ten minutes ago. Well, you didn't lose interest, per se. More like you two became much more interested in one another than in the movie.
Lets just say that the gasps and cries from the scared on-screen protagonists aren't the only ones happening at the theater this evening.
Flip grunts as you sink down onto his stiff length repeatedly, hips thrusting up instinctively against you. The truck's windows are starting to really steam up, the air between you two incredibly thick while you ride him.
You're holding tightly onto the grab handle with one hand while the other rests on his hand, the one currently gripping your hip tightly. Your eyes are on the movie and maybe somewhere in your mind you're paying attention to the horrors occurring, but really, it's just pictures on a screen. Your mind is in a whole different place right now.
"S-Shit," you breathe, biting your lip to try and keep the noise down. "Oh god, baby..."
As much as Flip loves this, well, pretty much public sex, he does try to be extra careful since he's law enforcement. He's really hoping the movie's louder than the noises you two are making and the gentle squeaking of his truck's shocks.
He groans softly, cigarette pinched between his teeth, ashes starting to fall off the tip. "Goddamnit, princess...a little faster for me...mhm, that's it..."
You speed up as he requested, resulting in a spike in both your pleasures. Matching noises of pure lust and passion escape from both of your lips.
"Fuck...mm!"
Flip starts thrusting up into you, chasing his rapidly approaching orgasm. The cars around you seem none the wiser and luckily for you two, the windows are not completely steamed over, so all that can really be seen are your silhouettes.
As he fucks you, you take the opportunity to reach down and rub your clit, moaning softly as the pleasure pulses through you. You're close, very close, and getting closer by the second--
"O-Oh fuck," Flip groans as he cums, pushing his cum up into you with rapid thrusts. "Mmm, good girl...shit..."
Feeling him cum is what sends you over the edge, and you continue rubbing yourself through it as the familiar waves of pleasure roll over your body.
Eventually you both come to a stop and Flip pulls out, tucking himself away while you pull your underwear back into place. As soon as you turn around in his lap, Flip has put out his cigarette and pulls you in for a kiss, his arms wrapping around you to hold you close.
A thought come to you and you smile against his lips, chuckling softly. He pulls away, eyebrows slightly furrowed.
"What is it?"
Your laughter grows a bit. "I told you this was a good movie."
He laughs, shaking his head and giving your ass a nice firm smack.
"You're cute."
****
sextember taglist: @rynwritesstuff @safarigirlsp @babbushka
if you'd like to be tagged in future sextember works, please let me know via comment on this post or the original sextember post!
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babbushka · 9 months
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Indy AU Headcanons
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The first time Dr. Jones meets his son, it’s summer of 1943 and he’s hanging upside down in a cave in Egypt, having sprung a trap meant for far stupider men. 
To say that it’s a shock to see him, this man, claiming to be his son, is an understatement. But then again, Indiana had had his fair share of dalliances with women over the years. 
It was odd to see Ben, it was odd his name was Ben. It was odd there were so many things about him that he had no clue about. He wonders if Ben would ever share them, or if the tension thick enough to cut with a knife, would always remain. 
You weren’t helping the cause, and you knew it. Dr. Jones had been your mentor for four years now, but you’d known him for years prior to that. He was your professor and your boss, but he was also a friend -- or rather, a friend of your parents. 
Once upon a time, Indiana used to come around for family dinners. Now, you’re lucky if you can get him to scarf down a proper meal in between the way he pours himself into his books. “70% of Archaeology is done in the museum,” as he would always say. 
Ben takes after his father in one regard -- stubbornness. From the moment he joins your team, rather unwillingly, he is argumentative, antagonistic, and a downright pain. He’s too used to being alone, doing things his way, that much you can gather from the first 12 hours with him. 
But...after the first 12 hours, and then 24, and then 48, and somewhere along the way, you find that you really enjoy his company. He’s a pain in your ass, yes, but he’s smart and funny and intense. He’s chivalrous and kind in his own way, even if he never smiles. At least Dr. Jones smiles. 
By the time you’re stateside, resuming your post at Marshall College with the two of them -- because of course Ben tags along -- you find yourself in a tricky situation: you’ve grown feelings for them both. 
And so begins one of the more difficult decisions the three of you have to make...deciding how this particular  adventure ends. 
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miraclesabound · 2 years
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Adam Driver Properties Masterlist
STAR WARS SEQUEL TRILOGY
MARRIAGE STORY
BLACKKKLANSMAN
HUNGRY HEARTS
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bits-and-babs · 1 year
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⋆ 𝐏𝐎𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐃
Dark!Commander Mills x f!Reader
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word count: 3.7K
warnings: 18+ MDNI, Dead Dove Do Not Eat; this fic may be unsettling for some readers. Dark!Mills, Chasing Predator/Prey, fear, tense scenes. DubCon [Non-Con Themes?]. Mentions of body hair, Size Difference/Size Kink. Pussy slapping, unprotected p in v sex, tummy bulge, claiming, cream pie
➛ mills masterlist I| main masterlist |I send an ask I| taglist
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Jagged bark digs into the skin of your back through the thin, soft cotton fabric of your shirt. You feel the amber tree sap seep into the canvas, sticking uncomfortably to your back and clinging to you as you try to ease your hyperventilation. The cells of your lungs vibrate with alarm, stinging as you suck in mouthfuls of oxygen.
Get away.
The sunshine thrashes you, your skin slick with the sweat that rolls down your temples. Heat ebbs at the edges of your mind, teasing you with the promise of unconsciousness. Rest. It urges you to let your knees slump, to ease your aching body down to the forest floor and close your eyes for a moment– you can’t. You can’t be certain how far ahead you were or how much of a head-start he had conceded.
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It had been freezing when you awoke, the cold biting your skin raw even as it thawed. A low hum deafened your ears, subconscious tears frosting your coarse eyelash hairs together and forcing your lids shut. Panicked, you had pushed the heels of your palms to your eyes in an attempt to melt the frosty glue, feeling something slippy and thick smear across the skin of your cheekbone.
The metal tang to the scent that pierced your nostrils indicated you were bleeding, pain leaping forward in your skull and forcing your eyes open in your discomfort. Like a mallet smashed over your head, the sounds of your surroundings cracked through your ear drums. A deafening siren screamed, blurring your vision with the intensity of its volume. Glass tinkled against the metal shell of the cryogenic chamber as you’d wearily pushed yourself from the leather seat you had called home for an estimated double solar-cycle. Your limbs were stiff, unused and preserved in ice for twenty-four months.
Green flooded your vision as you rose to your feet, a flashing light on the data pad of your chamber indicating your apparent survival following defrost. You’d been thankful to see your vitals displayed across the screen– you had felt so awful upon waking that you were almost certain you had died.
Relief that had flooded your veins curdled into distress when the data pad beeped, a cursor swiping across the pixels to dismiss the notification of your stirring.
You hadn’t given the scene much notice from then, jittery fear shuddering over your skin and forcing your feet forward. The ship that had meant to deliver you to Somaris was nowhere in sight, but debris pieces of the vessel had lay strewn across the forest floor. Orange embers still glowed within the metal of some large slabs of metal.
The realisation had been slow to arrive, the throbbing remnants of a concussion sweeping nausea throughout your body as you stumbled over the fallen trees. The piercing ring of the alarm continues to circle your agitated mind, tormenting you with the sinking reality of your plight. Stranded on a planet far beyond the solar system you had come from, surrounded by alien creatures you hadn’t seen stored in information holo-pads and without a ship to re-enter orbit– all while attempting to avoid the person who you had no doubt was hot on your heels.
Initially, you had assumed that the scaly, lizard-like animals were causing the snapping of the twigs in the thick treeline of the forest. While some were humongous, you noticed some were of a smaller size. Even the creatures that reached your hips posed a significant enough threat for you to avoid them by ducking behind tree trunks and bushes, their sharp teeth dripping with saliva when they caught your scent.
Whipping around at the sound of another ‘crunch’, you’d caught sight of him. Long, ebony hair fell in strands in front of his face; his brows pinched together in a stalker's concentration. His lips set in a grim, thin line, recharge-blaster aimed directly at your calves. The amber sap that had coated your skin from the trees appeared to have drenched his eyes, irises burning a bright honey colour in the brutal sunshine.
You hadn’t stopped running since, chest heaving as the cells of your lungs screamed at the intensity of your pace. The thick fabric of your flight suit, coated in leather around the collar, was heavy to carry, your legs aching as you’d lept over each of the fallen trunks in your way.
Shuddering at the memory of the hours you have spent evading capture, you inhale shakily in an attempt to ease your thumping heart. It threatens to crack your sternum, bludgeoning the bone with its rapid pace. Even though you’d stopped for some time, dread kept your heartbeat thrumming like the wings of the birds on your home planet, your blood rushing in your ears and drowning out the squawks of the flying lizards, their beaks long and sharp, wings leathery with clawed hands at the joint.
A stream trickles nearby, the running water rippling around the surrounding rocks. The breeze is cool against your face, tickling your cheekbones in a soft kiss. Despite the rustling of the leaves, the babble of the small brook, and the distant hiss of the hot spring geysers, it’s utterly quiet.
Foreboding chills you to the bone, wringing you dry.
It feels off, this delicate balance of stillness. Trepidation crawls up the vertebrae of your spine and prickles your skin with goosebumps. There’s an ambience; thick with something sinister. It coats your surroundings and lingers in the air like unsparked lighting, threatening to pounce.
Your hair stands on end, blood freezing along with the beat of your heart when you hear it; the zooming charge of a blaster.
“You can’t run from me forever.” It’s delivered with an alarming deadpan, his even voice ricocheting off the tree line. You can’t tell where he is like this, your neck reeling on its shoulders as you frantically search the area.
Darting your eyes amongst the bushes, you spot him- his footsteps cautious as he picks each footfall carefully. He’s learnt from his previous mistake, ensuring not to reveal his position with a snapping twig.
You swallow back a whimper, skirting around the trunk of the tree. Palm pressed to your nose and mouth; you hear your trembling breaths as you attempt to smother them. It’s terrifying, the level of noise you make. You’re certain your pulse gives away your hiding spot- that the vibration of the very cells of your being is connected to an amplifier and blasting through the woodlands.
In contrast, your pursuer is almost silent, barely making a sound as he picks through the undergrowth. You wonder how it’s possible for such a large man to make so little noise. He’s so careful, so silent that you pause your breath to listen for him better. Where-?
“Sweet Thing…” you hear him coo, a slight taunt to his voice that makes your nails dig into the tree's bark. Your lungs threaten to scream, ankles promising to buckle beneath the suffocating pressure.
Crouching as low as you can onto the balls of your feet, you attempt to shuffle around the trunk's circumference. You’re careful to test each footstep, feeling for fragile foliage beneath the sole of your shoe before setting it on the floor. You swallow thickly, wincing as the dried leaves rustle quietly.
It’s as though time momentarily stops. The rubber of your heel catches on the roots of the tree, slipping down the curved surface and sending your foot crashing through the sun-baked foliage with a sickening ‘crunch.’
Oh.
Tensing up all at once, your muscles pinch with fear. You fail to suppress the heaving breaths that rattle through you now, sucking in mouthfuls of oxygen and wheezing in terror when you exhale.
“Hmm,” a hum sounds to your left, loud to your ears. You bristle, the seams of your person screaming that you need to move, to run. Instead, you stay rooted to the spot, fight or flight bested by the primal instinct to be still. To hide. The atmosphere shifts, the chill of the breeze twisting to an icy disquiet.
Don’t. Don’t move, be still. If you’re still, he won-
They crawl across the curve of your jaw at first, fingertips creeping along the line of the bone before gently grasping your chin. White hot fear holds you perfectly still as his thumb pushes into the soft flesh of your cheek, the scrape of his knuckles biting into your skin as they purse your lips together. With your feeble attempt to shake him, his grip turns solid.
“Got you.”
His gruff voice rasps against the shell of your ear, lips brushing the thin skin and raising goose pimples across your neck and down your spine. Breath caught in your throat, you barely manage a whimper of response– the sound cracks in your vocal cords and sounds more like a startled exhale.
Your resolve fractures into tiny shards as he uses the grip on your chin to tilt your head backwards. Tension cracks between your shoulder blades at the awkward angle, your muscles straining as he pulls them taut. There’s a tensity at your throat, too, the thew connecting your jaw and neck almost pained by the extreme flex.
Amber. The thin strips of gold lay stark against the pitch black of his dilated pupils, irises merely a slither as the abyss swallows them whole. An eagerness paints his expression, even as his thick, dark brows pinch together in concentration. The hulking frame of your hunter stands above you, neck practically folded over to stare down at your kneeling form. He’s scanning your face, assessing each aspect of your visage and taking in the details. The paw grasping at your face tilts it left and right as he searches for… something.
Again, you wail as you feel his thumbprint dig into the soft flesh of your cheek. It braces against the edge of your molars, prints embedding– branding itself into the skin beneath it.
“Shh-Shh,” He hushes you softly, voice somewhat soothing now as he sweeps his knuckles across your temple and over your cheekbone. “Quite the hunt. Chased you all over, 70652. ”
The five digits of your passenger number ring through your eardrums like the alarms that had alerted you to your crash landing. It flits across his expression, a smug, mocking look as the realisation strikes you between your ribs like a wet blade—the pilot. Commander Mills, you had been told before cryostasis, was a skilled enough aeronaut to deliver you safely to the destination of Somaris. It appeared he had failed his mission.
“I- I don’t-”
“Everyone in the cryo-bay is dead,” he speaks over you, matter-of-fact in his unwavering tone. Your eyelashes flutter closed, confident Mills can feel your pulse pump blood through your veins as he trails his fingertips down your jugular. It tingles, the feather-light touch, adrenaline rushing over your body in surging waves. “It’s just us.”
“Hngg-” you mewl as he crouches behind you, dragging his lips gently across your pulse point as he breathes you in- the scent of your evasion. Soil coats you in an earthy smell, the metallic tang of blood from the scrapes of the thorny undergrowth. Mills groans against your jugular, scraping his sharp incisors over the thrum of your heart while savouring you.
“Aren’t you lucky?” He whispers, gravelly voice barely registering at this volume. Mill’s hand slips down your throat, calloused fingertips tracing down your central points. Your throat, your sternum between your breasts. The deliberate trail has your breath quickening, an underlying threat of danger making the hairs on your arms stand on end. “Lucky that I found you before those creatures did? Hmm?”
The delicate intonation of his question is deceptive. He’s not being kind- he’s mocking you. Still, the enamel of his teeth sinking into the concave connecting your neck and shoulder has you crying out, wetness pooling between your thighs.
“Mhm,” he lathes his tongue over the indents his teeth leave behind, splaying his fingers wide as he trails his palm over your stomach. Need unfurls beneath the weight of his hand, twisting and coating your abdomen when his fingers dip just beneath the waistband of the joggers you had been provided before entering cryostasis. “This... Is thanks enough.”
Heat creeps across the apples of your cheeks as you feel his hand slip further into your pants and wedge beneath your panties. You can do nothing but turn your hot face away from him, squeezing your eyes shut when his fingers brush through the thatch of curls across the curve of your pussy. Mills hums softly, your only warning before he’s sliding the pad of his finger through your slick cunt.
“Shit,” he grunts softly, the tip of his nose trailing up the length of your jugular. “So wet for me already.”
Sinews in your jaw ache at the force with which you clench your jaw, trying desperately to swallow down the moans that threaten to bubble up from your throat. Mills is circling his fingertip just barely over your clit now, the delicate touch coiling a throbbing heat between your thighs.
It’s a subconscious response, one that bypasses your brain and jolts your hips forward onto his hand. You don’t mean to, your fingers sinking into the soil beneath you as your body tenses. It sends a bright, hot arc of pleasure through your body and you wail raggedly, the short-lived friction enough to blur your vision.
Mills leaps.
Ripping his hand from your pants, he grabs ahold of your waist in a bruising grip, flipping you over onto your back harshly. It’s so fast, the world careening sideways. When you land it almost winds you, your spine hitting the ground with a thud. Twigs and rocks dig into your flesh, but Mills gives you no real opportunity to complain when he pins your body down with the hulking weight of his own.
Urgency spurs Mills on, pushing his fingers under the waistband of both your joggers and your panties before yanking them down your thighs. He doesn’t bother to remove them, abandoning them over your shins. They bunch around your ankles, movements restricted by the fabric. Your body is trembling, buzzing with something far from the fear he had originally inspired in you.
Mills is huge. Broad and muscular, when he leans his body over yours he almost blocks your whole line of sight. His muscles shadow through the thin fabric of his shirt, sweat causing the material to cling to his damp flesh. The chase across the forest seemed to have had little effect on his athletic frame, the exhaustion that had afflicted you unapparent when he pushes your knees back against your chest.
“Just look at you. Trembling. Panting. It’s gorgeous.” Subtle cruelty drips from his tongue when he praises you, watching your nipples harden as your folds are exposed to the cool air. Honey irises drag over your sopping cunt, greedily lapping up the view. You shouldn’t be enjoying this, so exposed to a stranger you had been running for in fear of your life just moments before.
“Please,” you beg, pathetic sobs cracking in your throat at the desperation to be touched.
“You’re in no place to be directing me, Sweet Thing.”
Despite his apparent refusal, Mills is pushing the trousers of his flight suit past his hips to expose his cock. Again, he refuses to waste time in removing them entirely, removing just enough to ease himself out of the confines of the material. You only catch a glimpse of his cock before he hoists your thighs over his pelvis, but your heart seizes at the sight– an angry, red tip leaks precum that smears across the inside of your thighs, veins protruding across the large shaft. You can’t fit tha-
God, he pushes the pad of his thumb into your clit and you yelp, seeing stars. A steady, wicked throb of bliss pulses through you as he applies pressure to the bundle of nerves, swiping his print back and forth. It’s overwhelming, and you can’t help the way your hips jolt as you feel him attempt to breach your entrance with the head of his cock.
“Stop moving,” Mills orders, hand wrapped around his dick as he sweeps through your folds. You’re sobbing now, tears welling in your eyes as he continues to abuse your swollen clit. He slips again, dark eyes flicking up to your face when your hips jolt upwards to chase his touch, the build of your impending orgasm catching you off guard with how quickly it seems to blossom. The third time, when the tip of his dick notches the inside of your thigh rather than taking root, his patience snaps.
Mills suddenly draws back from you, removing his hand from your clit before bringing his open palm down on your throbbing cunt with a brutal slap. Pain bows through you, blending seamlessly with your bliss and causes a sharp, high pitched cry of his name to tumble from your lungs. In your shock, your hips momentarily still. Taking advantage of your dazed state, Mills quickly lines his pulsing cock against your cunt and drives home, swiftly ramming into you with an abrupt snap of his hips.
A haggard gasp rips through your throat at the sudden intrusion, the painful stretch of his cock cracking through you and making your eyes roll back. Dirt cakes under your fingernails as you grasp feebly at the damp soil, trying and failing to find any kind of purchase to ground yourself.
“Take it,” Mills orders, his gruff voice impossibly reaching lower octaves as he pushes his length further into you. He sits back slightly, his eyes almost pitch black with how his pupils swallow them up as they settle on your cunt. Fascinated, he watches your lips stretch around his girth and paint his protruding veins with your slick. “Make it fit— Shit!”
His crude growl scrapes your eardrums as he bottoms out inside of you, hips flush with your own. You can’t breathe, feeling as though he’s big enough to settle amongst your lungs. You heave shallow breaths, your head pulsing with mind-numbing dizziness.
Then he’s moving. He drives forward at first, reaching depths inside you that make your abdomen ache before pulling out of you. The stark emptiness he leaves you with is short-lived, thrusting forward and stealing what little oxygen you had swallowed down.
Heat simmers through you with each shred of the head of his cock against something blinding inside of you. It gives you no room to think, to move, the cruel pace Mills sets. It’s merciless, pummelling into you and driving you up across the forest floor. “Fuuuuck, that’s good,” Mills groans loudly, holding on tight to your hips to prevent you from sliding away from him. You sob brokenly, hitting his chest with the heel of your palm as you struggle against the orgasm that’s practically hurtling towards you. Christ, his dick is so hard, ramming through you and pushing up against your cervix and causing a delightful ache.
The wet sounds of him thrusting into you are obscene, slick and desperate as he begins to pull you down onto the snaps of his hips. Fat tears stream down your cheeks, collecting in your hairline as you sob his name over and over.
“Look at you,” Mills practically snarls, eyes set on the bulge in your lower abdomen and in awe of what he finds there. Fuck fuck fuck. You can see him, see the outline of his cock driving in and out of you through your abdomen. “Mine.”
Through your haze, you feel Mills press his giant palm against your abdomen, feeling himself twitch and thrust inside of you. His forehead drops against your shoulder, hips beginning to stutter as your walls flutter around him.
It’s overwhelming; the intense pace, the brutality of his thrusts, the way your clit brushes against the pubic hairs on his lower pelvis. You sound fucking wrecked, wails spluttering with each devastating rock of his hips.
“Aha-ah- ohfuck,” you babble, eyes rolling back as your body curls inwards. You’re burning, tightening, your orgasm creeping across the pit of your stomach. “I-I’m gonna-“
Mills groans loudly, and your back arches suddenly when he bites into your collarbone. His teeth sink into your flesh, hard enough to draw blood, and the pain shoves you right over the ledge you’d been dancing over. You cum with a scream of his name, clamping down around his cock as ecstasy surges through you from head to toe. Your vision blurs, hearing cuts out.
“Shit,” you hear him spit distantly, despite the close proximity to your ears. Mills’ hips push up deep inside of you, his body lurching and trembling as he cums inside of you. It feels, even in your altered state of consciousness, like it takes forever. Milking him endlessly, his breath shuddering against the wound on your clavicle as he gently grinds into you to ease himself down from the high.
There’s no movement, no sudden release of your body and flopping to the side. Mills stays stuffed within you, your mixed cum dribbling down the inside of your thighs as he squeezes the flesh of your hips with his palms.
Your sobs of his name had been loud, noisy enough to draw in all kinds of lizard creatures, but Mills seems insistent on remaining like this, scraping his teeth across the curve of your shoulder and beginning to rock into your swollen cunt again.
“There’s a few hours before nightfall,” he talks over your garbled string of noises, overstimulated and exhausted from the hours of running and the brutal way he had fucked into you. “You can take me again before then, can’t you, Sweet Thing? Before we head back to the ship?”
Your body resigns to his question, already far too wearied and submissive to argue what feels more like an order than a question— besides, bliss is already pooling in between your thighs when he pinches your clit with the pads of his forefinger and thumb.
“Good Girl.”
END
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Gif belongs to @zachsnydered
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rynwritesstuff · 8 months
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Crazy In Love
Movie Director!Charlie Barber x Reader
Warnings: NSFW, PIV sex, brief name-calling (slut, whore), gendered pet names (pretty girl), and general sexy stuff
Word Count: 1,150
Summary: You and Charlie have sex after a movie premiere. 
Author’s Note: Thank you to the people who sent requests/ideas in! I’ll get to them soon, I just had to write this lmao. Feel free to send as many as you want. <3
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Your love’s got the best of me, baby you’re making a fool of me . . . “ - Crazy In Love, Beyonce 
The lights come up, and Charlie stands, which tells you that you should stand as well. You do, smoothing out your dress as you smile softly. Charlie’s grinning and waving and lighting up a cigarette, and God, he looks delicious. 
You’re so proud of him, of his accomplishments, tonight and always. He’s so creative, your Charlie. He made a masterpiece, he really did. You’re not good at sharing, but tonight? You’re alright with the world seeing just how talented Charlie Barber is. The credits of his movie are rolling on the big screen, and people are standing up to clap. You could cry, so beyond thrilled that everyone who ever doubted your boyfriend has been proved wrong. He did it. He did this, and he did it well. 
He looks back for you, trying to find you in the sea of people, and when he spots you, his smile widens. You blow him a kiss. 
He catches it, then reaches into his pocket to pull out a cigarette. He lights it up and begins to smoke it. You swallow harshly, still clapping for him as heat forms between your thighs.
People make their way out of the theater, and you hurry to catch up to Charlie. When he sees you, he holds his hand out to you. 
“There she is,” he says. “My pretty girl.” 
You smile, leaning against his arm as you hold his hand. 
“You did such a wonderful job, baby! It was incredible!” 
“Yeah? You really think so?” Charlie asks. He kisses the top of your head, and the cameras go crazy, snapping and shooting pictures of the two of you. “Of course I think so!” you say happily as the two of you walk out to the car. It begins to drive you both back to the hotel. Charlie’s hand rests on your thigh the entire way there, and you know exactly what this means. 
He’s trying to contain himself, behave himself, but really? He loves the way you look in this dress, and he’s eager to take it off of you. 
The two of you walk up to the hotel room wordlessly, and Charlie swipes the card to unlock the door. You step inside before him, and he puts the ‘do not disturb’ sign on the outside handle before closing and re-locking the door. 
You smile at him as he loosens his tie. 
“You look so handsome, Charlie,” you say as he walks towards you. He hums, putting his hands on your hips and pulling your body flush against his. 
“And you look absolutely – mm – beautiful,” he says, kissing you in the middle of his sentence. 
You need him so badly. He looks so good, and your pussy is so wet . . . 
“Please fuck me,” you breathe against his mouth. Charlie hums. 
“You need it that badly, pretty girl?”
“Yes,” you say, nodding eagerly. “Need you. Need your dick.”
Charlie chuckles lowly, then says: “And they say romance is dead.”
You give his ass a playful squeeze. 
“The offer’s gonna expire, Mr. Director . . .”
“Oh?” Charlie says, tugging you towards the bed. He shoves you down on it. “We wouldn’t want that.”
You smirk, pulling your dress up as he works at his pants. By the time he manages to get his cock free, you’ve pulled your panties off and tossed them to the floor. Charlie gets on top of you, settling between your legs, and kisses you deeply as he presses his cock up against your entrance. He smells like cologne and cigarettes, a smell that is so classically Charlie. 
You love it. 
He’s kissing you like his life depends on it, like he’s a starved man in need of something, anything. 
“Mm. You gonna take my cock?” Charlie breathes against your mouth. You nod, and Charlie presses his tip into your pussy. 
“Fuck, Charlie . . .” 
“Ask nicely,” he teases. “Ask me nicely, and I’ll fuck you how you like it.”
Your pussy clenches. 
“Need you,” you say, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck. “Need you so badly, Charlie, need your cock in my pussy, please . . .“
He thrusts the rest of the way into you, and once you’ve adjusted to the feeling, he begins to roll his hips. He wastes little time, picking up speed almost immediately and fucking you into the mattress so hard that you can barely formulate a sentence. 
“F-Fuck! Fuck, Charlie! Mmm!”
“Take it . . . Take it, pretty girl. Take it like I know you can . . .”
Your body is bouncing as he rolls his hips furiously. Your hands move up to tug at his hair, and he grunts softly as you give it a good yank. 
“Couldn’t stop thinking about you all through the movie,” Charlie admits. “Couldn’t stop thinking about having you like this . . . My perfect little slut . . . Such a good whore . . .”
“Mmm, fuck!” you groan at his words as he pounds you. “Fuck, shit, Charlie . . .!”
“Touch yourself,” Charlie says. “Touch that little clit for me. Wanna feel you cum on my cock.”
You reach down, and you desperately rub your clit, chasing your orgasm. 
“Don’t stop talking, Charlie,” you breathe, rubbing your clit quickly. “Tell me what a good whore I am . . .”
Charlie grunts, fucking you faster. 
“The best,” he breathes. “The best l-little whore . . . Mmm . . . Always taking cock like a good girl . . .”
He’s losing himself in the pleasure that your body is providing, and his cock begins to throb and twitch. He’s close already. 
“Fuck, fuck, Charlie . . . “
“My own personal slut, hm? You love taking cock, but I know you l-like mine the best . . . Shit!”
You nod quickly. 
“I do,” you breathe. “I do. You’re the best I’ve ever had, Charlie . . . Fuck, I’m gonna cum!” 
He nods, then presses his face against your shoulder as your orgasm crashes over you. Waves or pleasure cascade over you, all radiating from between your legs. Chills rise on your arms, but you can’t feel them. You’re too focused on prolonging your orgasm. When Charlie feels you flooding his cock, he cums with a long grunt. 
“S-Shit! Fuck!” he exclaims, dumping his cum into your pussy. You groan at the feeling. You’re so full of him, so full of his seed, and God you feel fulfilled. 
“Fuck,” you sigh before Charlie kisses you. His lips work against yours, and you laugh breathily when he pulls away. Your lipstick is all over his mouth. You touch his cheek. 
“Pretty boy,” you mutter. 
You kiss him again. 
167 notes · View notes
juniperwoodwell · 11 months
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How ADCU characters would react to a s/o, who admits she's Insecure about her body.
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Parings: Adam Sackler x F! Reader, Flip Zimmerman x F! Reader, Phillip Altman x F! Reader, Kylo Ren x F! Reader.
Warning(s): Cursing, 18+ content, Groping, Innuendos.
Word count: 2k
A/n: Sadly I've been feeling a bit down about myself and decided to write about the boy's, honestly I hope reading this helps you as much as it did for me. Enjoy ❤️
Oh, also. The photos were edited by me, I found them all on Pinterest.
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Adam Sackler
He wasn't too surprised by the confession when you told him one night; he could tell by how shy you were when you started dating and began trying things out in the bedroom.
He didn't know how to bring it up or console you properly; usually, he'd immediately change the subject when you felt insecure about something. To you, it came off as him being uncaring about your insecurities, but one night you decided to bring it up.
"Hey, Adam.." You said quietly; your back was to him as you lay in his bed.
The question ran through your mind, keeping you awake. His arm wrapped around your front and pulled you against him,
"Yeah, Kid?" his voice was groggy from sleep.
"Why do you always change the subject when you notice me becoming insecure about something?"
 "You seriously want to talk about this now?" He groaned and nuzzled his face into your neck, but you sighed and slipped out of his grasp, sitting on the bed and crossing your legs.
"Yes. It's bugging me, and If I don't know the answer, I won't sleep."
 Another groan escaped his lips, missing your warmth as he sat up, leaning against the wall.
The warm lights from the window illuminated his skin with a golden glow; you sighed and picked at your nails.
 Adam grabbed your hand and quickly pulled you into his lap, tucking his head into your shoulder. His hands slid from your naked thighs to your hips, slipping under your (His) sleep shirt. Your breath hitched when his hands touched your stomach, and you immediately grabbed his wrists.
"Adam...Please don't."
"Why not? Why are you so ashamed of this?" He squeezed your sides for emphasis.
"I-I...I don't know. Maybe it's because, in high school, I desperately tried to be the hot skinny girl?" You joked,
"Really?" Adam asked, obviously not catching on.
"No, Not really. I...I guess it's just because I'm putting so much effort into losing weight, then not seeing any progress. It's always been this way. I either can't gain any weight or lose it. I used to get upset when I got stretch marks on my thighs or when my sides got pudgy."
Adam removed his hands from under your shirt, taking both of yours so he could interlace your fingers. He kissed your shoulder. "That's stupid."
 "Adam...Don't put down my insecurities."
"Why not? They deserve it. They're useless and only make you doubt yourself. I say screw it. Stop caring about how much you hate or dislike your thighs or belly. You're beautiful not by just how you look but by your personality. Though your appearance definitely adds to it."
"How can you say that?" You asked, closing your eyes as he continued to kiss the exposed skin of your neck and shoulders.
"Because I fucking love your body. I love how thick your thighs are, especially when they're trying to crush my head like a watermelon. I love how squishy your belly and sides are. It gives me something to hold onto when I'm railing you into the mattress. Oh, and don't get me started on your ass because I know you're insecure about that too. It's my favorite pillow. Knocks me right out."
His words were accompanied by a squeeze or poke to each part he mentioned. Making sure you knew just how much he loved the things you were insecure about. He realized the subject-changing method wasn't working, so he decided on a more... Physical  approach.
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Flip Zimmerman
Flip's reaction was similar to Adams, but he couldn't wrap his head around how such a beautiful, intelligent, and talented woman could be insecure about herself. He wasn't sure how to console you, but he was determined to learn how.
He started by asking questions about your insecurities, always confused by the why and how. It irritated him to know that someone made you feel  this way about yourself. No...Not irritated. It pissed him off beyond belief, but he would never let you know that.
One night, he takes the situation into his own hands, quite literally. You two were preparing to go to the park's fall cookout park.
You stood in front of the mirror trying to fix your dress, you hated wearing them, but you thought you'd try the pretty housewife look. Biting your lip, you flopped your hands to your side, giving up.
"Hey, Stop that." Flip's low voice startled you out of your self-criticizing thoughts.
 "S-stop what, Hun?" You asked, Turning to look at him as he finished buttoning up that lovely red flannel you asked him to wear.
"That whole nitpicking thing you do when you try on new clothing. You look gorgeous in that dress. -actually, you look gorgeous in anything you wear...or don't wear" He smirked, his eyes gleaming mischievously as he walked over to you, taking your hand and turning you to face the mirror again.
He wrapped his arms around your middle and put his chin on top of your head, that smirk growing into a smile as he watched the blush blossom on your cheek.
"You tease" Your voice was small; He always managed to distract you from your negative thoughts
"My pretty little Wife." He moved his head to kiss your cheek. "If you don't like the dress, I can always rip it off your pretty little body and show you just how beautiful you are with and without it."
"Oh shush, we don't have time, Flip."
"Like they're gonna care if we're late,"
 You scoffed. "Late? Honey, With you...We'd miss the whole event"
 You rolled your eyes, seeing Flip smirk in the mirror.
"That wouldn't be so bad?" His hands slid down the sides of your dress, he pulled the skirt up, but your hands grasped his wrist before he could get too far.
"Yes. Yes, it would, Zimmerman." You smiled, meeting his eyes in the reflection.
"If we stayed home, I could show you all the ways to love your body." Your head turned to meet his gaze, that mischevous glint now replaced by a low gaze and lust-blow pupils. You patted his chest,
"As much as I'd love that...And really, I would. I promised the guys at the station I'd bring those cookies you all like."
Flip groaned and kissed your head. "You or those delicious cookies...Toughest decision of my life." Together you laughed, and you pulled away.
 Swaying your hips as you left the bedroom, knowing he'd be watching and following after.
"It better be me, Honey."
 A new wave of confidence found its way into your heart and mind.
"Always, sweetheart."
If Flip could love your body so damn much, So could you.
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Phillip Altman
Philips's reaction was very childish, as were most of his reactions to things you tell him. He mostly laughed in disbelief. But he settled down when you put your hands on your hips and bit your lip.
"Holy shit, You're serious." His eyes were wide.
 As I said. Disbelief.
 "Yeah, Pal. Why wouldn't I be?"
"I-I don't know? You always seem so confident in the stuff you wear; you're like the queen of confidence. It radiates off you like the fucking sun. It shows in the way you walk and the way you talk."
You shook your head. "It's not really confidence, Phillip. I just like the clothing I wear."
"Liar, You know you're hot. You have no reason to be insecure. People should be insecure because of you and all your..." he moved his hands around the air, "Hotness."
 "Hotness?"
 "Yeah. You're fucking hot." You rolled your eyes;
 Phillip sighed as he stepped close to you. His hands ghosted up your arms, not touching but close enough to feel the heat. His hands cupped your face and squished your cheeks as he kissed you; he pulled away and gently shook your face
"And you better fucking believe it. Okay? Because If you don't, I'm gonna keep doing this until you do."
He smiled and kissed you again and again, Only stopping when your fingers wrapped around his wrists. "You believe me yet? Little punk?"
You smirked and shook your head, "Nah...I don't think this method is working."
"Oh? Then what will? Huh?  How about this?"
Philip let go of your face and fell to his knees. He stared up into your eyes like a love-sick puppy.
"Oh fuck...Phillip...Get. Up." You laughed;
 He shook his head as his hands grabbed the backs of your thighs, squeezing and kneading them through your jeans.
"Phillip," You groaned; you loved his hands, how big and warm they always felt. He knew it, too.
"Hmm?"
"Stop it." You grabbed a fistful of his hair before he could shove his head between your thighs; he groaned loudly at the feeling.
 "SHit- Do that again." You smirked at his request, tugging his hair again.
"You mean this?" He shut his eyes, groaning again.
 "Yess...Your hands are so fucking addictive." He opened his eyes, meeting your own. "You're so pretty from this angle, baby. If I could, I'd be on my knees for you forever."
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Kylo Ren
Kylo was angry when you told him, not at you but at your reasoning behind it. He was furious that a man you put your trust and love in constantly put down your body or called you things that made you feel less than you were.
He was determined to show you just how wrong that bastard was.
He had you pinned against the wall of his bedroom, his lips on your neck, and your arms were held above you by the force while his hands roamed your body,
"If I ever hear you putting yourself down again, I will fuck you senseless until you only believe the words I say." You moaned softly at his words; his hands took the hem of your shirt and pulled it over your head; then he unclipped your pretty black bra, sliding the straps off, and watched as it fell to the floor before he lifted his eyes back to yours.
"Do you understand?" You nodded; Kylo gripped your chin firmly, asking the question again.
"Do. You. Understand?"
"Y-Yes, Sir."
Pleased with your response, he let go of your face and took one of your breasts in his grasp; he smirked at you before he leaned down, taking it into his warm mouth, licking and sucking sweetly, eliciting loud, shaky moans from you. He let it fall from his lips with a soft pop. He lifted his head and kissed you deeply, dominating you with his tongue. His hands groped your chest, and he rolled your nipples between his forefingers and thumbs, drinking your moans and whimpers.
 He pulled away from the kiss, releasing your wrists from the force; they draped tiredly over his shoulders. His hands left your breasts, sliding down over your stomach, finding their places on your hips.
"I wish you could love yourself as much as I do." He kissed you, squeezing your hips as he lifted you, you wrapped your legs around his waist, and he carried you to the bed, kissing your neck as he laid you down; his kisses trailed down from there.
When he reached your belly, he smiled up at you, his fingers dipping into the waistband of your pants.
"Guess I will just have to teach you how."
168 notes · View notes
brewsterispunkk · 3 months
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diamonds and stones, part one
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pairing: clyde logan x f!reader (no use of y/n)
WC: 9k(!!)
summary: reader returns home & encounters some ghosts from her past.
warnings: 18+! language, mentions of war, amputation.
a/n: it's here!! i hope y'all enjoy this long ass chapter (this is so long its embarrassing LOL). there's some time skipping/flashbacks here so i hope it's not too hard to follow! as always, any feedback is appreciated :)
series masterlist
ONE
The phone had barely rung two times before you answered, thumb punching the accept call button as soon as you glanced at the caller ID. Pulling the phone up to your ear, you looked ahead at the cornfields and the open road in front of you. Your mom’s crackly voice filled your ears.
“Darlin’,” she sighed on the other end. So, she’d gotten your message.You thought to yourself.
Mentally, you kicked yourself for giving her any notice in the first place. You knew she’d try to talk you out of it, like she had successfully done the previous two times you’d tried moving back home.
“You got out, honey.” she’d say. “You got to do what I never did. You went to college, you got your degree, you moved to the city. Don’t throw that away. There ain’t nothin’ for you here.”
You hated that she referred to your hometown like that, the place that raised you: a place to get out of. Sometimes you missed it like you missed a limb.
And after your Gramma’s first stroke it had worked, no matter how guilty you felt for being states away while she recovered. 
It had been a minor stroke, the summer before your junior year of college. Not fatal, or with too many lasting health complications, but it had been enough to scare you. It had been enough to scare you into almost dropping out of college and moving home, but your mother and grandmother had insisted that you go back after she’d begun the road to recovery. 
Of course, that wasn’t the only reason you decided to go back, a small voice in the back of your head whispered.
 Two dark brown eyes danced in your mind's eye; freckles scattered sparsely across tan cheeks, a rumble of a laugh, the crackle of a tape on an old car radio. You dispelled it before you allowed your mind to wander further.
That’s in the past, you  insisted,  chastising that quiet voice trying to bring up old ghosts. 
You wouldn’t let your mind go there again. He left, you reminded yourself, instead resolving to focus on the road in front of you, and the nagging voice of your mother in your ear. 
She sighed your name.
“I told you not to come, honey. This is the whole reason we waited so long to tell you–”
“I’m already on the road, mom.” You interrupted her. “I moved out earlier this week, and I’m already on my way home. No use in trying to change my mind on this when it’s already done.” 
For the first time in what seemed like forever, you were met with radio silence; Your mother was speechless. There’s a beat of silence before she speaks again. Secretly, inside you’re smug. You’ve managed to outsmart her.
“You’re on the road right now?” She asked in that familiar disapproving short tone.
“As we speak,” you shifted, holding the wheel with one hand and slouching in your seat. Your mother sighed again.
“Stop that,” she said, displeasure evident in her voice.
“Stop what, mama? Driving?”
“Stop sounding so smug,” She scolded in that tone that all mothers have perfected, before addressing you by your full name. “This is gonna upset your Gramma. The last thing she wanted was you putin’ your whole life on hold for this.”
“‘For this?’” You asked in disbelief. “Mama, I can’t believe you waited more than a whole month to tell me the cancer was back in the first place! As if it was none of my business!” 
You could practically hear her eye-roll through the phone. 
“Now don’t be ridiculous.” She simpered. “We didn’t wanna upset you is all. And we certainly didn’t want you doin’ something so rash, like this.” 
You rolled your eyes. This woman was impossible. 
“Mom, I’d been considering leaving for a long time. My lease was up, Carla got married. This was just the final nail in the coffin. It was a long time comin’.”
“But you seemed so happy, baby.” she cooed. 
“I don’t care! I deserve to know if my grandma is dying or not, and you have no right to keep it from me!”
You were met with silence. It was your turn to sigh.
“I’m sorry,” she conceded softly. “I shouldn’t have kept it from you. I was just scared of something like this happening. You can’t expect me to believe that this whole thing didn’t cause you to up and move home out of the blue.”
“I know, mama, but it’s the truth.” You paused, before continuing, “I put in my notice weeks ago. I’ve missed home. A lot. The city is…so loud. And there are no mountains near Chicago. The land is so flat, and–”
“I know baby, I know.” You could hear her shuffling around on the other end of the line.
 She was no doubt calling from the landline in the kitchen at the old house. Thinking of it, your heart yearned. You missed it so much.
“It’s just that this was your dream, baby. And I just know your Gramma’s gonna blame herself for you giving that up.”
“Mom, I’m not giving anything up,” you emphasized the last part, trying to get it through her head. “I still have my dreams, Chicago just wasn’t it. It took me a while to realize that, but I have. And I have no idea where I wanna go or what I wanna do next, but I do know that I miss home. I was planning on coming back even before I found out.”
“Alright,” she began, but you wouldn’t let her continue. You needed to get this out. 
“And, that combined with the fact that Gramma’s cancer is back means there’s nothin’ you can do to stop me.”
“Alright,” she sighed on the other line. “I suppose there’s nothin’ I can do about it now. How did you find out in the first place? You never mentioned in that hysterical voicemail you left–”
“I had reason to be hysterical, don’t you think? Findin’ out from Jimmy Logan and all.”
“Jimmy Logan?” she asked in surprise. “Now what were you doin’ talkin’ to him? Did he finally buck up and get a cell phone?”
“Yes, he did,” you chuckled, “Mellie finally convinced him. Anyway, after she helped him get his contacts in order, the first thing he did was give me a ring, saying how sorry he was to hear about Gramma bein’ sick again.”
“But how? I didn’t even tell Jimmy Logan. The only people we told were the ladies in prayer group.”
You laughed.
“Oh, you know how word gets around. Jimmy heard it from Earl at the hardware store, who heard it from Irene, who heard it from her momma, who, if I’m not mistaken, is in your prayer group.”
“Well,” your mother huffed. “I suppose that is how it goes. I’ll tell you one thing, your Gramma will be happy to see you, no matter the circumstance.”
“I know,” you sighed,  glad that the air was at least a little cleared between you. You were still hurt that she’d kept something as important as your Gramma’s illness from you, but you understood where she was coming from. She just wanted what was best for you, wanted you to have everything she didn’t.
“Speaking of them Logans,” your mom said. “Have you told her you’re coming home?”
You laughed into the phone.
“Yes, Mellie knows I’m coming home.” You were surprised that she’d even assumed you hadn’t told the youngest Logan about your returning. She’d kill you if you didn’t.
“Good. I know she’s missed you. Last week while she was doin’ my hair, she told me a girl’s weekend every few months and a phone call just wasn’t cutting it.”
Mellie’s face flashed in your mind, and the feeling of dread at returning home started to dissipate. She had that effect on you; Ever since you met nearly 20 years earlier. You smiled, as your mind drifted back to then.
1995
You’d never imagined coming to a new school would ever be this hard. You’d expected it to be like how you’d seen it happen in TV shows or books or those kids movies you liked so much; Where after a rocky start with school bullies, the new kid fell in with the perfect group of friends and everything was fine. That was what you’d anticipated: The melodrama, the excitement. What you hadn’t expected was the monotony and loneliness.
Entering the third grade in october–two and a half months into the term–was never easy. At least that’s what your grandma had told you, and her being your grandma, you were inclined to believe her. 
“It’s not gonna be easy,” she’d told you. “And kids can be real mean, darlin’. Especially when you’re new and they don’t know you. But, you just show them how kind, and special, and smart, and funny you are, and you won't have no problem fittin’ in.”
And you’d expected it to be that easy. Boy were you wrong.
On your first day at Daniel Boone Elementary, you’d expected to be met with a little wariness (what with being the new kid and all), but had hoped, in the end, to make at least one new friend to tell your mom and grandma about when you got off the bus and went home. Instead, you got the usual strange introduction to the class by your new teacher, and that was that. No kids even came up to talk to you. You ate your PB&J sandwich alone at lunch, and spent recess alone on the swings. 
The following months went by in a similar manner: no new friends in sight. All the girls in your class were either too preoccupied with your hand-me-down clothes to play with you, or too shy to. And the boys wanted nothing to do with the weird new girl with too-knobby knees and too-big teeth because even if you liked the exact same things as them, you were still a girl, which meant you had cooties. 
So, at home you’d drift away and pass your time the only time you knew how: through stories. Whether it be babysitters’ club books or PBS kids documentaries on your grandma’s old box TV, your head was always in the clouds. You’d be cryptic when your grandma or mom would ask about school, and they’d begun to notice. Before the snow came and the world froze over for winter, you’d also begun to explore the property behind your grandma’s house, getting lost in nature as you used to. 
By spring, your grandma was at a standstill. 
The snow was thawing, and after a winter indoors, she was at her wits end. She could recognize a depressive episode when she saw one, and the fact that she was seeing it in you, her eight-year-old granddaughter, made her heart break all the more.
She had been just about ready to call an intervention with the school’s principal and psychologist when it happened. You met the person who would change your life.
You’d met Mellie Logan once before, roughly a month after your arrival in Boone County, when you were still new enough to be considered the least bit interesting at Daniel Boone Elementary. She was a year older than you and about a head shorter, with the same shade of rich brown hair as the older boy you’d recognized her sit with on the bus; Her brother, Jimmy Logan who was a middle schooler, but not the least bit embarrassed to sit by his little sister on the ride home, tugging playfully on her braids. She was in Ms. Granfell’s class down the hall, with whom your class shared a recess and lunch time, along with some of the 6th graders. 
It had been on the bus that you’d had your brief first encounter with Mellie Logan. She and about five other kids got off a few stops before yours, down Elm street, and rather than the fact that she had one older brother, that was about all you knew about the girl, and that was all the thought you’d given to her. 
The encounter was a small one: your backpack had been in the aisle as the kids filed in from the school at the end of a school-day in early November and she’d muttered a quiet “pardon me,” as she passed you to her usual seat at the back of the bus where her brother was already seated, and that was that. You barely knew her.
Now, though, as you sat in the school principal’s office, bright fluorescent lights shining over the deep mahogany desk, you felt that all of that was going to change. Mellie sat beside you, eyebrows knit together obstinately as she stared directly ahead of her at the clock on the opposite wall, frowning.
It read: 1:23. You sighed.
That meant that you were missing library time with the rest of your class while being holed up in here, waiting while the principal made calls to each of your parents that they had to come pick you up and discuss the incident.
Your stomach sunk in annoyance as you crossed your arms and slumped down further into the armchair next to Mellie. 
 Great, now they have even more of a reason to think I’m weird, you thought. That was the last thing you needed. You were already having a hard time fitting in in the first place, with girls like Heather Campbell making faces at you and snickering when it was your turn to answer a question or read aloud to the class. You didn’t need to be known as the weird new girl who’d also gotten into a fight with a sixth grader. 
You groaned in realization that that was exactly what you’d be known as from now on. You ran a hand over your face. And just wait until your mom found out, until your Gramma found out. Your life was over.
At that, Mellie looked over at you, her formerly sour expression turned questioning at your sudden outburst.
“What’s the matter with you?” she asked, moving to sit on her hands. Her legs were swinging back and forth off of the edge of the seat of the chair. She looked more bored than anything else, which was wild to you, considering the insane amount of trouble you both were about to be in the moment your parents walked through that door.
You looked at her like she was insane, her freckled face a picture of nonchalance, and sighed. Your heart was at the pit of your stomach as you watched the small round clock tick by, each second drawing closer to what was bound to be the end of your eight years on this planet.
You hadn’t intended to get involved. You really hadn’t. But when you’d seen the trampled, embarrassed look in his deep brown eyes, you didn’t know what else you could do.
 It was, surprisingly, not in your nature to be confrontational at this point in your life. Though you’d later grow to be quite the headstrong person, the years spent walking around on eggshells with Keith had taken a toll on your personality. You liked to avoid conflict with even your family, nevertheless with the mean fourth graders you’d always hear snickering at people during lunchtime. But when you’d heard them picking on the lanky boy with messy dark hair something within you had snapped.
It was breakfast for lunch day, aka: the best day of the week, and when the bell rang  signaling the beginning of lunchtime you moved as fast as your legs could carry you to the cafeteria.
You stepped into the line behind a tall, lanky boy who had to be at least a few years older than you. You recognized him from your bus; He lived on the same street as Mellie and her brother, and like you, always sat by himself on the bus. You thought that he was probably the only kid who was as quiet as you. In fact, you weren’t sure you’d ever even heard the stoic boy utter a word in the month and a half you’d spent riding home with him. His face always seemed to stay the same too, you’d noticed. 
Not that you’d been watching him, you corrected yourself.
Right now, though, the boy smiled at you as you came up behind him. A tight-lipped, shy one at that, but his dark eyes shone with genuine kindness that you were almost too flustered to know what to do. Such kindness, even small ones like this, had been few and far between in your time in Boone County. It’d been lonely, and this little boy’s smile made it feel a little less so. A part of you wondered if this town had been similarly lonely for him too. You smiled back.
The sound of giggling broke you from your blatant staring at the boy in front of you. Two girls had entered the line behind you. You didn’t know their names, but you recognized them from the time you had spent people-watching during your month or so of eating alone. The taller one was blonde, with long straight hair and thick braces covering her teeth as she smiled right past you and to the boy standing in front of you. Her counterpart was shorter and a bit stouter, with short pin-curls that practically stuck to her hair. Your stomach dropped as you took in the looks on both of their faces. Their smiles were anything but kind as they looked right through and onto the boy who was oblivious to what was coming.
You weren’t though. Just last week, you’d seen the pair of girls push a little girl in your class off of the monkey bars for “taking their spot,” when you knew for a fact that that girl had been there for all of recess already. Before that, you’d seen them ridicule another girl for her new haircut that had come out much shorter than expected until she cried. These were two girls you knew not to cross, and here they were, sights set on the boy in front of you whose name you didn't even know. And you were caught in the middle of it. 
“Uhm, excuse me?” The blonde girl asked, reaching across you and tapping the boy on the shoulder. Her face was twisted in barely held-in laughter, while beside her, her friend’s face held an identical.
The boy turned, eyes wide and curious. Kind. Unaware of exactly how nasty these two could be. 
“Y-yeah?” He asked, voice cracking when he stuttered. The blonde looked over to her friend and then back at him.
“Your name’s Clyde, right?” She asked, head tilting.
“Uhm, yeah, tha’s right.” He smiled, bashful. Ears twinged red.
Clyde. That was the boy’s name. It fit him, you thought. 
Her friend popped in. “Say, ain’t you a Logan?” She asked, face spread in what seemed like a kind smile. 
Something you didn’t buy. You thought as you grabbed an orange from the selection of fruit.
“Yes ma’am,” he said, moving down the line. He picked up a strawberry milk carton before moving further down where the french toast sticks were. You continued to eavesdrop, feeling the most awkward you had in a while as the conversation continued with you, quite literally, in the middle of it.
“Well, Clyde Logan,” the blonde continued, reaching for an identical carton of strawberry milk. Her face was smug. “There’s something Quinn and I have been meaning to ask you for a while now.”
“What’s that?” he asked, curious. He looked at her, eyes open and welcoming and you dreaded the next words that were going to come out of her mouth. It wasn’t gonna be good.
“We were just wondering,” she snorted halfway through, hand coming to her mouth. “Sorry, we were just wondering if you’d done something to upset your momma?”
He chuckled awkwardly, obviously confused, and flicked some dark hair behind his ear. “Pardon me?” he asked, brows furrowed.
“Oh, nothin’. It’s just you had to have done something to have earned a haircut like that.”
Beside her, her friend had given up on controlling her laughter. Wheezing, her friend–Quinn–interjected.
“Or maybe your hairdresser hates you? What did you do to make someone let you walk out of the house like that?” She giggled.
“Don’t be silly, Quinn. The Logans can’t afford a hairdresser. It had to have been his momma. I mean, really Clyde, you had to have done somethin’ bad.” The blonde chimed in again.
“Although, maybe it’s not the haircut, Heather.” Quinn piped in casually, serving herself french toast. “That’s not fair to his momma. It’s those ears. They stick out like a sore thumb.”
“Mhm,” the blonde, heather, nodded. “I think you’re right. And his nose. It's so big. That’s what makes you so unfortunate looking. Not the hair at all.”
Clyde looked like a deer caught in the headlights. Surprise coloring his features, the smallest frown upon his lips.
“Or , you know what,” Heather considered, piling bacon onto her lunch tray. “It’s probably that curse your sister wouldn’t shut up about last year. What’d she call it?”
“The Logan Family Curse.” Quinn chimed in. Heather laughed. 
“That must be it!” She giggled in that snotty, preteen way. “Who knew that the Logan family curse was being cursed with bein’ uglier than a mud fence!”
“Or having ears the size of Dumbo’s.” 
Looking over at Clyde, you saw his eyes glassy with unshed tears as he looked down at his lunch tray. Crestfallen. It sent white hot anger surging through your chest, and before you could register it, you were turning to face the two girls beside you in line.
“Just because he has straight teeth and you don’t doesn’t mean you have to be mean.” You glared at her. Her smug face morphed into one of anger as her eyes hardened into a glare.
“Excuse me?” she asked. Beside her, Quinn’s eyebrows rose to her hairline.
“You heard me, brace-face.” You stood your ground, glaring right back at her. She gasped at the insult, not ready for a taste of her own medicine. An identical look of horror crossed her companion’s face. From behind you, you heard a familiar high voice call out.
“Clyde? Where are you–” Mellie looked confused, her eyes following the lanky, dark-haired figure racing out of the cafeteria, leaving his lunch tray deserted in line next to you. Her gaze hardened as she looked over at you and the two girls in line. She stomped over, arms crossed.
“What did you say to him?” She demanded, looking between you three. When no one spoke up, she asked again, louder.
“What did you say to my brother?” She seethed. Heather looked at Quinn, an amused smirk on her face. 
“Oh, you mean Dumbo?” She asked.
“Nothing–we just gave him some beauty advice,” Quinn descended into the same annoying laughter as her friend. 
What happened next was a blur to you. There was a hand in someone’s hair, another pushing someone's shoulder, and the sound of a hand smacking against someone’s face. You were pushed backwards–by who, you didn’t know–and your half-full lunch tray came down on top of you, covering you in scrambled eggs and syrup. Heather screeched like a banshee, and Quinn started crying. A lunch monitor ran over to break it up, and before you knew it, Heather was being sent to the nurse and you and Mellie to the principal’s office. 
Which brings you to now.
You sat, smelling of eggs and syrup, and waiting for your life to end. After a few minutes of silence, you looked to the scrappy, brooding girl next to you. 
“Did you have to hit her?” You asked, breaking the silence. Scoffing, she turned to look at you. 
“Uhm, yeah I had to hit her.” She spat out incredulously. “She was makin’ fun of my big brother. You don’t let people mess around with your kin.” 
“But–” you began before she interrupted you, seemingly not hearing you at all. That was something you’d grow to find out was a habit of hers whenever she talked about something she was passionate about. 
“And I’d do it again, too,” she said, stubbornly. “I don’t care what Mrs. Findlay says. If you ask me, Heather Campbell had it comin’ and needed to be knocked down a few pegs. I’m only sad I got caught.”
Her matter-of-fact made you giggle a little bit. After all, you couldn’t disagree with her; You’d seen Heather and Quinn unleash their wrath before. Many times in the short time you’d been in town. They needed to be put in their place. And you were glad you’d had at least a small part in doing it, even if it did put a target on your back and was bound to make your life hell indefinitely. 
“I am sorry you got involved, though,” Mellie said. “It ain’t fair you got roped into all a’ my trouble-makin’.” 
You chuckled a bit.
“Nah,” you sighed. “Before you walked up, I did say some pretty nasty things to them. I guess I deserved it.”
Mellie, looking surprised at that, snorted.
 “You?” she asked, eyes wide in apparent disbelief. “You said somethin’ to Heather Campbell?”
“What's that supposed to mean?” you asked, brows furrowed. “And yes, I’ll have you know, I did say something to her.”
“Nothin’.”  Mellie said, “it’s just that in all the time you’ve been here, I ain't heard you speak but about two times.”
“I couldn’t let her talk to him like that when he didn’t do nothin’ to deserve it.” You said. “Besides, I was tired of hearin’ her run her mouth all the time and no one sayin’ anything.”
“Well alrighty then.” She said.
 A beat of silence passed, the only sound being the ticking of the clock. Then, “what did you say to her?”
You snorted. 
“I called her brace-face.” You admitted sheepishly. Beside you, Mellie howled in laughter and after a moment, you joined her.
“You know,” she said pensively, smiling at you, all trace of a sour mood gone, “I think we’re gonna be good friends.”
You smiled back at her, the first real one in a while. 
“Me too.” And you meant it. 
Present Day
Your mother’s voice snapped you back to reality. 
“And what about him?” she asked carefully, words thick with meaning. “Does he know you’re comin’ back?”
You sighed. “Mama, why would he know I’m coming back? Why would he care that I’m coming back?”
“Darlin’, I didn’t mean it like that–”
“He didn’t bother telling me when he came back. I had to find out from Mellie, a month after the fact.” You continued, that familiar white-hot feeling in your chest resurfacing. “Besides, I’m sure Mellie mentioned it to him. She’d have to if he’s gonna continue this disappearing act of his.”
“That’s not fair, baby, and you know it.” She scolded, ever the mother. It didn’t matter that you were twenty-five, she’d always put you in your place when it came down to it. “He’s been through a lot.”
“I’m sure he has,” you agreed half-heartedly. 
“And–”
“--Not that I’d know about it! He hasn’t spoken so much as a word to me in years. Not for lack of trying on my part either, you know that mom.”
“I know, baby, I know,” she said. This was a conversation you’d had before. And no matter how many times you did, she’d always brought up the same points. 
And now, Clyde Logan had been home for more than two years, but felt like a ghost. Your family hadn’t heard a thing from him. According to your cousin Zach, Jimmy had wanted to throw a coming-home party for him, but had canceled it last minute. You didn’t know what he was doing now.
You knew better than to ask Mellie about it. She was your best friend, yes, but you wouldn’t put her in that position. You wouldn’t make her choose sides or play middle-man between you and her brother. And she knew better than to bring it up with you, too. She saw her brother’s idiocy, and, more importantly, she saw how hurt you were after all that had happened. 
So, Clyde generally wasn’t brought up between the two of you. Not in great detail, anyway. No matter how much you knew she had to reign herself in over it. Your best friend was a fixer at heart, and that instinct didn’t go away when it came to her best friend and her brother. 
“Let’s just drop it, mom.” You said. “I am not coming home for Clyde Logan, of all people. I’m just happy to be coming home at all.” 
“Well, that makes two of us.” she laughed lightly on the other end. “How far out are you?” she asked.
“I’m about halfway through Indiana right now.”
“Whew,” she whistled. “What a drive.”
You laughed at her sarcasm. “Oh yeah, nothin’ but cornfields for miles. That  is somethin’ I won’t be missing, that’s for sure.”
“Good.” she said, “You’d better get a move-on if you wanna be home before dinner, then. I’ll call your cousins and see who can make it.”
Your heart leapt at the thought of it, seeing the family again. You’d missed living in the same county as them all; Not having to drive hours to hug your grandma, to hear your aunt Nikki’s laugh, or to engage in yet another political conversation with your uncle Mike. 
“That sounds perfect.”
“Alright then. Your Gramma’s gonna be surprised, that’s for sure. And i’m warnin’ you now: She will not be as easily swayed as I am at your comin’ back.”
“Yeah, I know.” You shook your head. “I’ll start preparing my speech now.”
“You better!” She laughed, “I’m gonna let you go, babe. Call your aunts. Love you.”
“Love you too, momma.” You sighed, as the call ended. 
The late May sun shone through the clouds, as you steered off of the freeway to continue south. Toward home. 
- - 
It was well past seven in the evening before everyone left your grandmother’s house—and, I guess, your house too, for now—for dinner. 
It had worked: you’d made it home, finally, and even though your grandmother wasn’t happy with you for returning, she understood why. It’d been too long since you’d been home for more than a week or two. Even longer, if you didn’t count the summers you’d come home during college. 
After Clyde had left for his third tour, things weren’t the same. You always hosted holidays after that, or visited your extended family in Charleston. You’d missed your hometown, yes. But the pain you felt at how you and Clyde left things hurt you more. Only now, after six months of therapy and the terrifying possibility that your grandmother was dying, did you feel even remotely comfortable enough to come back. 
Now, after a long, loud meal with your extended family, you wondered why you’d left at all. The anxiety you’d felt driving into the county limits earlier that evening had dissipated. Home has a funny way of doing that: letting you ease right back in like you’d never left. 
Your cousins were getting bigger—now nearly teenagers—and your aunts inquired about your personal life over dinner. Now, after the coffee had gone cold and your last relative had gone home, you helped your grandmother with the dishes—much to her chagrin. 
Your grandmother was a kind woman, a gentle woman, but she was also a proud woman, and more stubborn than even you.
“Just because I’m sick doesn’t mean I’m inept, you know,” she slapped your hand away from where it had tried to venture into the soapy water of the sink. 
You sighed. So she’s still mad. 
“I know, Gramma,” you offered. “Just trying to help.”
She grumbled back, still focusing on scrubbing the plate in front of her. 
You gave up, moving instead to dry and put away the dishes she’d washed. As you began, she didn’t so much as spare you a glance, just hummed under her breath. 
The kitchen looked untouched from it had been growing up—the linoleum counters, tiled walls, and deep wood of the cabinets perpetually stuck in the 1970s. Some of the glassware your grandmother owned was from the seventies, or even before then, going back to when your mom and uncles were kids. You could tell from old family pictures that the house had changed little since they bought it in 1969. Even after so many years, your Gramma had refused to invest in a dishwasher, insisting on washing dishes by hand instead. 
You took a ceramic plate from the drying rack, toweling it off before opening the cabinet to put it away. The cabinet door had the same creak it always did. 
“You know,” you tossed over your shoulder at your grandmother. “I was planning on coming back for a while before I heard about the cancer.” 
“That’s what you keep sayin’,” she mumbled. “I can see right through ya, though, darlin’. You think I haven’t noticed you haven’t been home in years?” 
You bit your lip, trying to ignore the pang of guilt her words sent through you. 
“I’m sorry about that, Gramma, I am—“
“Oh, hush,” she waved a suds-covered hand at you, still not turning around. “Long as I get to see you, I don’t care where it is. What I’m trying to say is: you certainly would not have come home had it not been for my diagnosis.” 
You deflated a little; in a sense, she was right. You’d been considering returning before, that was true, but part of you deep down knew you wouldn’t have been successful if you hadn’t heard about her sickness. 
“What I can’t live with is you giving up your dreams for an old woman like me.”
You scoffed at that, coming up behind her and wrapping your arms around her shoulders. 
“Please,” you mumbled into the hug. “You couldn’t have kept me away. I would’ve found out at some point.” 
She sighed, hugging you back and leaning into you. 
“‘Suppose you’re right,” she acquiesced. “Doesn’t mean I’ve gotta be happy about it though.” 
“That’s fair,” you chuckled, letting go and taking another plate from the drying rack. “But you can’t get mad at me. It should be me angry at you for keeping it from me for as long as you did.”
She turned to you then, wiping her wet hands off with a towel. There was a strange look in her eyes as she took you in, eyeing you head to toe. She snapped out of it after a moment and offered you a smile. 
“Hm,” she hummed, bringing a weathered hand to cup your cheek. “I couldn’t stay angry at you even if I tried.”
You smiled cheekily at her. 
“I know.”
“Hm,” she chuckled, pinching your cheek lightly and patting it. “Now let me finish these up. Mellie’ll be here soon and you haven’t even taken your suitcase up yet.”
You nodded and put the last plate away. 
“I’ll turn the radio on for you,” you smiled. “It’s too quiet around here.”
“Alright sugar,” she tossed over her shoulder. “You won’t be sayin’ that come Monday. I’ve got your cousins after school most weekdays. And I thought you were a handful.” 
You chuckled. 
One thing about your family was true: none of you were boring—especially the little ones. They kept your grandmother on her toes. 
“I’m looking forward to that,” you chuckled. That was another thing you regretted about moving so far away: not being there to watch your little cousins grow up.
“I wouldn’t be so sure,” she said. “You might be reconsidering moving back after a few days.”
“Unlikely,” you snorted. “I’m hard to scare off. Well, now anyway.”
Your grandmother sent you a sympathetic smile then, and you knew she’d forgiven you. You twitched a little under her gaze. She almost looked like she pitied you. You understood if she did; she was the one to bear the brunt of your heartache when everything between you and Clyde had blown up. Still, it wasn’t a time you liked to dwell on. 
“So, you think you’re finally over that Logan boy?” She asked, crossing her arms and facing you.
You sighed; it was just like your grandmother to not mince words or beat around the bush.
“Jesus, Gramma,” you raked a hand over your face. 
“What?” she asked defensively. “Would you rather me tip-toe around you like everyone else? Your mama won’t ask, and you’ve banned Mellie from mentioning that boy.”
“So you thought you’d…” your words trailed off, not understanding exactly why she was bringing this up now. 
“I thought I’d mention the elephant in the room. Call it curiosity, sugar,” she smirked at you. “I just figured that since he was the one that kept you away for so long—”
“Gramma, you know he’s not the only reason l left—”
“I know, I know,” she held up a hand to stop you. “But I remember how you were when you left. In the months before. Barely leaving the house, not talking to anyone. Whatever he did, it did a number on you. I don’t want you getting like that again—”
You softened. She was worried about you, of course she was. Your grandmother was nothing if not a mama bear. 
“Trust me, Gramma. You do not have to worry Clyde Logan of all people. I’ve been over it for a while, I think. I’ll be okay.”
“Hm,” she scrutinized you through narrowed eyes, before nodding. “Alright. I won’t bring it up again.”
“Thanks, Gramma.”
“You ever gonna tell me all that happened with him?” 
“Maybe one day,” you smiled at her sadly. 
She nodded at you in understanding. 
“Alright, babydoll. You go get ready.”
As you walked up the familiar steps to your childhood bedroom, listening to Patsy Cline drift through the old kitchen radio, you smiled to yourself at the familiarity of it all.
- - 
“Trust me,” Camila grabbed your shoulder from the back of Mellie’s ‘85 silverado—her pride and joy and newest fixer upper. “This place is great, and it helps that we don’t have to drive all the way to Madison like we did back in the day.”
You snorted at how your friends were trying to sell you on this new dive bar. Where you’d wanted to go out in Madison like the old days, they’d insisted you stay local tonight.
You shifted in the denim cut-offs that Mellie had insisted you wear. You hadn’t worn them out since your senior year of college. Hell, you hadn’t been out since your senior year of college.
She’d showed up at your door at exactly eight o’clock on the dot, intent on getting you dolled up for a night out. Camila and Gwen, two of your best friends from high school, had shown up soon after. It was like old times—playing your old CDs, the smell of cheap perfume and hair-straighteners flooding your childhood bedroom. You couldn’t even bring yourself to be nervous about going out. Now, two hours later with a new outfit and your hair and makeup done to perfection, you were off to check out the newest haunt in town. 
It’d been big news when the place had opened about nine months ago. It wasn’t every day that a new business opened in Logan, so obviously it was the talk of the town. Even you’d heard about it all the way in Chicago. Duck Tape was its name and it had been renovated into a bar from an old bait and tackle shop. And apparently, since its opening, it’d become a staple of your small community. You’d been promised that you’d run into at least five people from high school here, maybe more. It was also in the middle of nowhere. 
“We’re basically driving the same distance, Cami.” You laughed. From beside you in the driver’s seat, Mellie smirked. 
“Don’t rain on her parade.” She teased. “Cami’s just trying to explain away the real reason why she came here: she’s got it bad for the bouncer.”
Camila gasped and smacked Mellie’s shoulder. 
“That isn’t it at all, Mellie Logan and you know it!”
“Mmhm,” Gwen nodded from the other side of her, very obviously not buying any of it. “It has nothing to do with the six-feet, tall, dark, and handsome bouncer. I believe you, Cami.”
You laughed at her sarcasm. 
“I don’t know why you don’t put yourself out of your misery and just get his number,” Mellie asks from the front seat, looking at Cami through the rearview mirror. 
“And risk rejection? Not a chance.”
You snorted at that, understanding completely. You’d had a few non-serious relationships here and there, but nothing that had stuck during your time in Chicago. And even then, they were alway the ones who had to make the first move. 
“Wait, wait, wait,” you interrupted. “Since when do any of these places need bouncers?”
When you were in high school, it was a given that no one underage would even try to get into a bar in Logan. It would have been pointless: everybody knew everybody here, so even if you had the good sense to get a fake ID, you’d be at the sheriff’s station before you had time to order your first drink.
“Since these kids are gettin’ more and more ballsy,” Gwen answered you. “‘Bout a year ago coach Garrison’s kid got busted for drinking underage at Tulman’s. Ever since, they’ve been IDing at the door.”
Tulman’s was the other bar in town, nestled in the heart of downtown. 
“I bet coach was pissed.”
“You have no idea,” Cami nodded, picking at her manicured nail. “Gave hell to the guy who owns the place. That’s just another reason why I like Duck Tape better.”
Gwen groaned from beside her. Mellie just laughed. 
Mellie sighed beside you, reaching for the gear-shift. “Just ask him out. You miss a hundred percent of the shots you don’t take.”
“Oh please,” Cami laughed, speaking up over the sound of Garth Brooks’ voice coming from the speakers. “Stick to hairdressing, Mel. You’d make a shit motivational speaker.” 
A chorus of laughs sounded as Mellie took a sharp turn off of the highway and onto the mountain road where the bar was. 
This was so familiar: you and your girlfriends, all dressed up and piling into one car to go out as if you were somewhere glamorous like New York City and not in Boone County, West Virginia. The chatter of the girls around you was comforting, and you relished in it. 
This, you thought. This is home.
- - 
You dropped your glass when he walked in, brushing past the bouncer with a large hand on his shoulder. Your stomach dropped.
The glass shattered at your feet, sending cranberry juice and vodka splattering over your boots and calves. A few people surrounding you jumped as well, moving away from the shattered glass on the floor. Beside you, Camila started. 
“Jesus,” she cried, grabbing your bare shoulder and looking at you. She was trying to get your attention, you knew, but you couldn’t bring your eyes away from the imposing figure of Clyde Logan, who just walked into the bar. “You okay? What—shit.”
She saw him too. 
“Mellie,” you heard her whisper, trying to get the attention of your friend who was too-busy flirting with a man in a stetson beside you. Gwen was in the bathroom. “Mellie.” 
He was tall—just as tall as he’d always been, but even more imposing. His shoulders stretched broadly across the dark blue button-up he had on. He wore worn blue jeans and work boots and still had that stiff, ramrod-straight posture that he’d come back from basic training with. You blinked. 
He was here. He was here. 
Even after years, he had an effect on you. You felt stuck to the floor, frozen in place as he made his way to the bar, his left side facing away from you. His dark hair was longer than you’d ever seen it, curling around his ears and down his neck thickly. You couldn’t tell much from the dim-lighting, but you could detect a bit of a stubble along his jaw and above his lip. 
Lord have mercy, he was beautiful. 
He was gorgeous–even more so than you remembered him. It made your chest ache.
“What?” Mellie turned to Cami, a flirty laugh in her voice.
“Look.”
There was a beat of silence before she spoke. 
“Fuck.” Mellie spat. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. He said he wasn’t working tonight.”
You breathed in a ragged breath, everything feeling all of a sudden too much. The neon lights, the chatter of people from all sides of you invaded your senses. The early summer heat was cloying at your skin in the crowded bar. You felt boxed in on all sides. 
“I’m just going to,” you mumbled, finally tearing your eyes away from Clyde, who was talking to the man behind the bar. You didn’t finish the sentence, instead electing to train your gaze on your boots and try to make your way to the bar door. 
Behind you, you heard Mellie call your name. You ignored her, breathing deeply as you tried to navigate your way to the door. 
Air, you told yourself. I need some air. Then I’ll be fine. 
You tried to push yourself past a particularly large group, squeezing between two peoples’ backs. One of them moved backwards, their foot moving to step in front of yours.
Your boot caught on the foot, and you tumbled forward, losing your balance. 
You tripped, scrambling, reaching out with your arms to break your fall as you tumbled.
Only, instead of continuing to fall to the ground, you stumbled into something. Or rather, someone. 
Your hands landed on a broad chest, and you felt an arm snake its way around your middle, attempting to steady you. You let out a breath, finding your footing. 
You brought your gaze up, an apology on your lips.
“Shit,” you mumbled, pulling your hands back from the stranger’s chest frantically. “I’m sorry—”
Brown eyes stared back at you, brows drawn together and full of confusion. Freckles scattered familiarly across his cheekbones and his lips parted as he looked at you. 
Clyde. 
You took a large step back, away from him, nearly stumbling again. He looked nearly as shocked as you felt, wide eyes taking you in from head to toe. After all, it had been over two years since you’d seen each other. 
You did the same—eyes moving down his thick neck, his broad shoulders, down his chest. He was still so much taller than you.
This was all too much. 
You could feel the panic setting back in your bones, and you blinked rapidly, moving to shove past him to the door, your legs carrying you before your mind could catch up.
When you did, he snapped out of it, moving to the side to block you and shoulder-checking you in the process. When he did, something firm and stiff—foreign—jabbed into your stomach, causing you to jerk away, even more past him.
Your brows furrowed in confusion, and you turned to see—
What you saw made the breath leave your chest. 
There, strapped to what remained of Clyde’s arm was a prosthetic. 
- - 
Tears fell thick and hot down your cheeks as you rested your face between your knees on the side of the dingy bar. The rough wood of the paneling on the outside of the bar dug into your back through the thin shirt Mellie had convinced you to wear, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Your mind was elsewhere.
Gone. Clyde’s left arm was gone–or at least part of it was. 
Hurt flooded your chest at the thought of it; your once-best friend returning home from war, part of him missing, alone, and you weren’t there. He’d had to do it alone.
Another wave of tears came. 
How could you not have known?
Everyone knew everything about everyone in Logan. It was the way of things and it always had been. It was how you’d found out about your Gramma’s illness, it was how word had spread like wildfire when Mellie’s boyfriend in tenth grade cheated on her, and it was how the whole town knew Bobbie Jo was pregnant with Sadie before Jimmy did. But this. 
It struck you all at once; everyone knew. Of course everyone knew. Camila, Gwen, Mellie. Your mother. They all had known and still didn’t tell you. 
You felt like someone had torn your heart from your chest. 
The sound of gravel crunching under boots tore your gaze up. You knew who it was before he called your name. You’d know the sound of his step anywhere. 
Clyde Logan walked toward you, arms clasped behind his back, dark eyes wary. He always looked like this when he was nervous. Even now, you couldn’t believe he was standing before you after so long. Even now, you couldn’t contain the slow simmer of anger that flared in your gut at the sight of him.
He stood there a minute, eyes on yours, before he cleared his throat. 
“How…uh, how long you been back?” He offered softly, eyes never once leaving yours. 
The slow simmer in your gut reached a boil. You stood to your feet, lip curling at him. You didn’t care enough to wipe your face of tears.
“Really?” You asked harshly, voice slightly raised. Clyde flinched at your tone. “That’s what you have to say to me Clyde Logan—after three years?”
Clyde bit his lip and looked down. He sighed. 
“Junebug—-”
“Do not,” you hissed at him, glaring up at his pained expression. “You do not get to call me that anymore.”
He just stared at you, a pained expression on his face. 
It didn't surprise you—Clyde had never had a way with words. Even as kids, even as best friends, it had been hard for him to express himself. He was quiet. Now was no exception. 
“Did you get my letters?” You hated that your voice warbled. 
Clyde’s eyes fell to his boots and you knew the answer from the guilty expression that crossed his face. 
You scoffed, even more anger bubbling inside you at the confirmation. 
After the fight—the one that sent you packing, right before his third deployment, you’d written him. Countless times, apologizing, explaining yourself, begging him for a response, anything. And you’d never heard anything back. 
“I wrote you for months, Clyde.” You said, voice softer now. “When you were over there, I had to get updates from Mellie. Or from my mom, because you wouldn’t write me back. You wouldn’t answer my calls. I didn’t know if you were hurt, or if you—”
You stopped yourself, sniffing. 
You stared at his prosthetic arm, finally able to get a better look at it.
 It began just under his elbow, strapped on there to give the illusion of a full-limb. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from it. 
“Ugly, ain’t it?” He asked, noting how your stare held there. Your eyes snapped to his. 
You scoffed, ignoring him and looking away. 
“I didn’t say that,” you muttered, drying your face with your palm.
“I told Mellie not to tell you,” he blurted. “After. Made her swear not to. Don’t be mad at her.”
You sighed. 
You weren’t angry at her; you couldn’t be. Shortly after you’d realized he wanted nothing to do with you, you’d made any talk of Clyde strictly off-limits in your friendship. Even if she’d wanted to tell you, it was off limits. That was not the case, however, with your own family.
You’d be having words with your mother and grandmother when you returned home. 
“My relationship with Mellie is none of your business,” you glared up at him. “It hasn’t been for a long time.”
Clyde scoffed now, the soft, reserved look gone from his eyes and replaced by annoyance. 
“What?” you asked. “You got something to say? Say it.”
“Fine,” he barked. “Three years and you haven’t changed a bit.”
Oh, so he was pulling that card, you thought, thinking back to your last argument. You laughed humorlessly. 
“Oh, I haven’t changed?” You asked, raising your eyebrows. “At least I had the balls to come back! At least I’m not a coward like you—”
“Coward?” He asked, voice low. 
“You heard me.” You spat, voice warbling again with anger. You hated that you got like this; whenever you were angry, you’d cry. “At least I have the stones to face my mistakes. I don’t run away from them, Clyde.” 
With that you walked away, leaving him standing there in the gravel of the Duck Tape parking lot. 
He made no move to follow you, thank god. 
You decided to call it a night, knowing any chance of letting loose was long gone. Though you weren’t angry with her, you didn’t think you could face Mellie or the girls again tonight. You pulled your cell phone from your bag and sent a quick text to the group chat, telling them you’d decided to head home. You sent a separate one to Mellie, telling her you weren’t mad at her but you needed some time. 
You walked back to the front of the bar, leaning on the wood of the front railing, and stared at the phone screen. Your mother and grandmother would be asleep by now, and even if they weren’t, you weren’t sure you wanted to see them anyway. You could always call your cousins—but doing that would open up the door to countless questions and speculations at why you were leaving Duck Tape looking an emotional wreck. 
Then, it hit you.
You found the contact easily and hit call; there was one person who you knew you could call whenever, wherever to come get you, no questions asked. You just hoped he was up.
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eddiesfaerie · 2 years
Text
ADCU Masterlist
(Adam Driver Character Universe)
most works are NSFW and contain 18+ content, minors do not interact!
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Softer | Part 2 *
Kylo Ren whisks you away to a remote planet to be sweeter with you. He finds it much more difficult than initially planned.
Fructus Tenebris (series) 1. Eripio
You have a bit of a run-in with a hunter in the garden. Gladly, Kylo is around to mediate. 
Pet *
You accompany the Supreme Leader to one of his meetings. Unsurprisingly, you become desperate for attention.
DRABBLES / REQUESTS
Kylo and Sleep
So Pretty Like This *
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Mirrorball * | Part 2 *
Your first time meeting detective Flip Zimmerman is out on the dance floor.
Going Under
You struggle to figure out why Flip Zimmerman wants to help you out.
DRABBLES / REQUESTS
Losing You
Stitches
Flip and Sleep
Gingerbread
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Long Sleeves * | Part 2 *
A two part, chaotic summary of the trials and tribulations of you and Charlie’s blossoming relationship as it’s pushed to its absolute limits.
On Our Way Home
On a late Friday night, you take the subway home with Charlie after spending the day with him at his rehearsals. 
DRABBLES / REQUESTS
Date Night
Stay
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August *
On a humid, late summer afternoon, Clyde makes you a couple of promises. 
Shooting Stars *
Clyde takes you on a drive up the mountain to admire the stars, you see more than you were expecting.
Look At You *
sub!Clyde needs help voicing his needs.
DRABBLES / REQUESTS
Laundry
In The Morning *
More Than Friends
Sick
In The Rain
Snacks
Surprises
Family
Being a Brat *
Horny and Annoyed *
Soft!Dom Clyde *
Tippy Toes
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Midnight Snack
You get hungry at 4am. Sackler makes you something to eat.
DRABBLES / REQUESTS
I See You (nsfw-ish)
Double Date
Kiss It Better
Sackler and Sleep
Types of Kisses
Morning Sex *
Caught *
Nasty But Sweet *
Confessions *
Sleepy (nsfw-ish)
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DRABBLES / REQUESTS
Sunshine
Home
Bent *
Blowing Bubbles *
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DRABBLES / REQUESTS
At Gas Stations
Brat *
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toxicanonymity · 9 months
Text
Empire Builders. Ben's Hardware Ch. 3
5.4k / Ben Solo x Rey / ch 1, ch 2
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WARNINGS: I8+ mdni. Sexual tension, gaslighting, another woman tries/fails to seduce him, angst, dubcon via uninformed force connection, ben jacks off, unsafe P in V (in force connection). Hardware Store AU explained. Strategic planning humor. Excessive plot. Beta/Star wars consultant: @dark-scape A/N: Written in February 2023. This chapter has far more world building & background than necessary. Like I set up way too much stuff for a miniseries, but I wanted to answer some reader questions. And at least the world is constructed in my head for future use.
Ben opens his eyes and looks around his office.  There's a leather couch, a chaise, an end table, a credenza stocked with high-end liquor.  It's certainly too high-end for the general manager of a local hardware store, but Ben likes things a certain way, and so do the clientele. He zips up his pants.  With Rey, he feels like he's doing nothing wrong.  He has his own rules for himself about the force connection, although they continue to evolve. 
The first time it happened, it took him by surprise. He felt a familiar tingle in his nose, the same faint tingle he gets when he uses the force.  And there she was in her bed.  He watched her for a few minutes, growing more and more aroused.  Then he gave it a shot - he invited her.  And there she was in his house.  After that, all she had to do was want him and he could tune in at will. 
He may tune into Rey's cute little thoughts about him sometimes, and especially her sexy little thoughts, but he only interacts when he's clearly invited.  When she desperately wants him.
In a way, Rey is in control – or, that's what Ben tells himself.  If Rey wants something from him sexually, he makes sure she either asks for it or takes it herself. He merely makes suggestions.  He opens her eyes to the possibilities. Rey may not understand it, but Ben barely understands it himself.  Certainly not well enough to explain it to her.  It would be like trying to explain to someone why water is wet or how to breathe.  It's not Ben's fault Rey doesn't know she's force sensitive. Most people don't know about the force at all, and they're better off that way.  
Ben never had a chance at a normal life.  His parents dedicated their lives and his to using their powers for good.  He didn't understand why teachers asked what kids wanted to be when they grew up.  Did anyone have a choice?  Ben even went to the FBI academy at Quantico and started in the Behavioral Analysis Unit.  It just . . . Didn't work out.  Or, it didn't work out *the way his parents wanted*, to say the least.  
His parents' names followed him everywhere.  Everyone had this very specific idea of who he was and what he was about before they even met him.  Everyone had expectations. His entire career was laid out for him. He'd probably be the director one day.  Without the freedom to be his own person, he grew bitter and angsty.  It was only once he interacted with the most dangerous criminals that Ben realized the choices he could make. 
Ben feels like he's protecting Rey by not cluing her in.  The only thing he feels a little guilty for is using a Jedi mind trick on her.  It's a little gross in principle, but he was  protecting her by making her forget what she saw between him and Hux.  Ben works for dangerous people, and Rey is far too curious for her own good. If Rey were to find out the store is funneling supplies to a dangerous criminal organization, it would not only ruin the whole set-up, but her life would be at risk.  
-----
Ben goes back downstairs to the store and passes Hux on the stairs, who's on his way up to the office.  Hux asks, "Want me to run those numbers for tomorrow?"
Ben has no idea what Hux is talking about.  He sighs, "What's tomorrow?"
Hux looks worried that Ben forgot.  "Uh, the retreat, right? Corporate?" He uses finger quotes when he says corporate. 
"Fuck me," Ben mutters under his breath.  "Yeah.  Thanks." 
How could he have forgotten? He knows how - Rey is a total distraction.  Empire Building's strategic planning retreat - what a joke, but Ben doesn't have a choice.  Who plans a retreat a week before Christmas? An organization that considers itself your only family.
Ben wants to get out of it.  "Hey, Hux - shouldn't one of us stay here to watch the store?" 
"Yup, that's why I'm attending remotely. I'll be here in the office and go down to the store during the breakout sessions." 
"Actually, I wouldn't mind staying. You deserve the break," Ben offers.
"Ben, no offense, but you know nothing about running a hardware store.  That's why I'm here in the first place."
"It's only two days," Ben says.  He's annoyed, but can't really dispute the assertion that he doesn't know what he's doing.  He's a hobby carpenter, which used to give him a false sense of handiness, but he's eaten his fair share of humble pie since opening the store.  If he had to run any other department besides Wood, he'd be in trouble.  
Hux sighs. "Alright, I wasn't supposed to say anything, but you're being honored.  You can't skip out." 
Honored? That intrigues Ben.  He tries not to seem too excited, though.  "Whatever," he says.  "Yeah, run the numbers, but run them by me before you share anything."
A buzz saw whirrs in the distance as Ben steps back onto the floor of the hardware store. He wants to learn to manage the store himself, he just doesn't want to learn from Hux. He walks by the key-making station and the staff member greets him.  He thinks about shadowing the keymaker to learn something new, but he goes to Lumber instead. They're filling an order of custom-length 2"x4"s.  
"Want a break? I've got it," Ben says.  The woman stops the saw and offers Ben her protective glasses.  He takes off his jacket, puts on his apron, and rolls up his sleeves.  He pulls on a pair of canvas gloves.  He can feel the woman checking out his ass as he bends over to get the first piece of lumbar lined up just right. "15 minute break," he tells her. "You don't have to clock out."  She walks off then Ben fires up the saw and cuts the wood.  
He's finishing up by the time she comes back.  He gives her the goggles back.  
Ben puts his jacket back on, collar popped, and goes out to the nursery and picks up the water dispenser.  He waters the tropical plant section and inhales the fresh smell of lush foliage mingling in the air with the sawdust from carpentry.  He thinks about how much he enjoys the hardware store.  He would love to just manage the hardware store one day and have that be his whole job.  If only things were that simple. 
----
The next morning, Ben drives his bulletproof Range Rover with dark tinted windows to the retreat, which is two hours away.  He dresses in all black and lays a charcoal blazer in the passenger seat.  He pulls up to the hotel at the last possible minute.  He opens the glove box and puts his old beat up Glock in the back of his pants.  He doesn't carry it all the time. It's truly gnarly, but it works, and it's a family heirloom.  It was returned to him from the District Attorney's office after his grandfather died.  He puts on his blazer and makes sure the notched Mandarin collar is standing -  he doesn’t like his neck exposed.  Then, he tosses his keys to the valet
There are two huge guards at the door dressed darkly in plain clothes.  Ben knows one of them and gives him knuckles. 
There are only a couple dozen people attending but they've branded it like it's some huge event.  Ben would prefer to sit with his back to the wall in any given room, but there's a seat reserved for him in the second row. The retreat kicks off with a speech from the Emperor, which is a big deal. No one knows his real name and Ben has never heard of him appearing in public before.  He hangs on every word at first, but it's a pretty general speech about the importance of loyalty and how prosperous they are together.  Yawn.  Then he talks about adversity.  
He continues, "As we all know, we had some challenges last year. Now, I don't have anything against journalists - heck, my granddaughter is one - but they tend to stick their noses in places they shouldn't." The crowd murmurs. Ben starts listening closer again   
"And it's not like the old days where we can take care of one problem and it just goes away.  They've gotten smart.  They've gotten digital.  Setting up dead man switches and whatnot.  Anyway, after the Post article last year, and the boycotts, each of our biggest suppliers suddenly grew a conscience at the same time. Construction came to a total standstill.  For two months we built nothing." He lets that linger in silence for a moment, then continues, "Until one of you had an idea." His eyes twinkle as he looks at Ben.  A few people quietly cheer.  Someone behind Ben pats him on the back and Ben turns his head a little and smiles on acknowledgement but keeps his focus straight ahead.  
In truth, Ben saw the Post article coming.  The way they were handling their business it felt inevitable.  But it would have been a big risk for Ben to try to change how they were doing things.  Instead, he started anticipating the fallout and plotting to save the day.  
"Ben's Hardware, ladies and gentlemen." He gestures to Ben.  "We're back in business."  He makes Ben come up to the front and presents him with a ruby signet pinky ring.  When he sits back down, Ben sees Hux sends an applause on the Zoom screen behind the speaker podium.  Ben's tries not to roll his eyes. 
"That was real strategic thinking, and it got us out of a real jam. I want all of you to start thinking strategically.  That's why I've brought in a consultant this weekend." He  gestures to his right and an attractive young woman stands up. "This is Paige.  She's going to get all of you thinking like Ben."  She smiles at Ben and he swallows.  
Ben wonders how much Paige knows and what's in store for her.  This is sloppy.  He manages a small smile.
----
The first session is a SWOT analysis of Empire Builders.  Paige talks through their Strengths, Weaknesses, Opportunities, and Threats.  It turns into somewhat of a post mortem of what led to the Post article and boycotts. 
Strengths: Reputation, resources. 
Weaknesses: Disloyalty, competing priorities
Opportunities: Services. Diversify disposal. 
Threats: Attention. Regulation.
This is a load of crap, and Ben is 100% sure Hux is just eating it up, scribbling notes and making stupid plans.  He rolls his eyes at the thought.  This is worse than a load of crap, he realizes.  Nothing good could possibly come from openly strategizing about how to expand this criminal enterprise.  
Ben could have walked right into a different crime family and taken his grandfather's seat, but that would have been the easy road, and he wouldn't have been met with true respect.  He knew he was capable of sitting at any table he wanted, and chose a different family.  A rival family.  He's climbing from the ground up by merit.  He whacks off a bad egg here and there, but he builds his reputation with brains more than brawn.  He's bringing the family into the 21st century.  
As part of his plan to make himself indispensable, Ben shared one of his many good ideas - the hardware store.  He shared just enough to climb one more rung on the ladder, and now they want all these goons bumbling around trying to bring something fresh to the table? He would hate for this family to implode before he has a chance to destroy it himself and build his own dynasty. 
In the SWOT session, they discuss some of the points together, but it's awkward because no one knows how much Paige knows about the organization or when she's supposed to get whacked.  They keep trying to be vague, but they're really conspicuous about it.  Ben tries to peer into Paige's inner world to find out how much she knows, but he realizes he can't see anything at all, much less read her thoughts.  He wants to test a hypothesis that the sexual attraction and tension with Rey is what's creating their connection.  
-----
They take a break and Ben takes off his blazer.  He leaves it on his seat and goes to the bathroom.  He looks in the mirror as he washes his huge hands, then he unbuttons two buttons and rolls up his sleeves.  He feels kind of slutty doing this, but in a hot way, if he's honest.  He runs his long fingers through his dark hair and swallows. When he sees his Adam's apple in the reflection he remembers his most powerful weapon.  He should've made an acceptance speech.  
Before they get back from break, Ben approaches Paige with a twinkle in his eye.  He talks about nothing.  He uses the lingo.  He gesticulates with his massive hands and shifts his weight flirtatiously as they talk.  He flashes his charming smile and compliments her on the dumb SWOT analysis.  He tries to keep talking.  He crosses his arms and watches her eyes drift to his forearms.  When it's time to re-start the session, he heads back to his seat and glances back. She's definitely checking out his ass.
"What do we mean by 'diversify disposal'," someone asks, and  Paige doesn't know how to answer it. So she doesn't know everything after all. 
One of the big wigs chimes in.  "You'll recall the Post article was primarily the result of a specific disposal that was discovered at a construction site. Which led them to look at other construction sites, pulling permits, and employment records, and so on and so forth.  All that fuss started with one sloppy disposal."   
The man still looks confused. The big wig makes a subtle gun gesture out of view of Paige.
"OH, disposal," the audience member realizes.  "Okay and diversify that how?" 
"Well primarily by considering properties that don't trace directly back to Empire Builders. And techniques that lessen the residue over time." 
"Like lye?" The man asks.  Paige swallows and doesn't know what to say.
Ben interrupts and saves her. "Have we thought about *reducing* disposal?" He asks the big wig.
The big wig laughs. "It's a core part of our business model." 
"Reducing unnecessary disposal? That's when things get sloppy, right?"
"Go on."
"Like say you hire a person for one job, like a conference, but they have a diverse business skill set.  That person could potentially be reassigned to, say, logistics and supply chain management?"
"Instead of. . ." The big wig is thinking.  "Right.  Good question Ben. Let's take that offline." 
-----
After the session ends for the day, Ben goes to the hotel bar.  He wants to check in on the store but needs a drink before he can even think about talking to Hux. Mainly he's curious if Rey came by.  He knows she wants to. Ben orders a whiskey on the rocks and thinks about Rey.  He feels like she has all the control.  He only gets to see her when she shows up to the store.  He thinks about the way she blushes under her freckles and her dimples and her perky tits and how bad she wants him.  He's horny. 
As Ben examines his drink in his large hand, a sultry voice startles him.  
"Ben's hardware, huh?" It's Paige.  She slides her small hand onto his shoulder and puts her other hand on the back of the stool next to him.  "Anyone sitting here?" He must have really worked his magic earlier.  
"No, please." He welcomes her to sit. His sleeves are still rolled up.  
She orders him another drink. "Another one for him. And one for me." 
Paige reaches for Ben's large hand and inspects the ruby signet ring on his pinky. She wants to try it on.  It's too big for even her thumb. One of the big wigs watches casually from the end of the bar. 
Paige asks too many questions, and Ben doesn't give her any answers.  He doesn't want to put her in more danger than she's already in. Also, part of him wonders if she's a trap. Maybe they've realized what he's known all along - that he's the future of this empire - they need to know he can be trusted and won't get distracted by competing loyalties.  Even if it's not a trap, Paige isn't Rey, so that works against her.  
At the bar, Paige is all over him. It turns him on.  He's not that interested in her, but he's only human.  She finishes her drink and slips Ben a key to her room.  She scribbles her room number on a napkin with lipstick.  He wants to leave the key and the napkin on the bar, but he wouldn't want a worse guy to bust into her room in the middle of the night, so he takes them with him.  
Ben looks at his phone and has a missed call from Hux. He decides not to call him back, lest Hux think Ben answers to him.  Plus, Ben is exhausted from being "on" all day.  He's a solo creature and having to pretend to enjoy "the family" really takes it out of him.  Especially with all eyes on him as an honoree. He felt like he couldn't let his guard down for even a moment.  
-----
Ben retires to his hotel room alone he washes his face and hands and grabs the hotel lotion.  He props up two pillows and lies down on top of the bed without unmaking it.  He crosses his large feet and studies the pattern of his argyle socks.  He really prefers stripes these days.  He should overhaul his sock drawer.  He reads the label on the lotion, then moisturizes his enormous hands. He holds the napkin in his hand and runs his thumb over the room number, which is just a few rooms away.  
He recalls the way Paige looked at him and gets hard. He starts to think about whether he should just do it.  It's not like he and Rey are dating - they haven't even gone out once.  On the other hand, hooking up with Paige wouldn't do anything but physically get him off, and he still wouldn't be satisfied.  He runs his long fingers over the mark on his neck.  There is only one person who can satisfy him now.  His eyelids are heavy.  
Ben palms himself through his pants and  debates whether he should try to force connect with Rey.  If he does try to connect with her and she isn't already thinking about him, it could startle her or make her question everything.  He decides to take care of himself  instead.  
-----***------
Ben takes takes off his slacks and hangs them on the back of a chair and lies back down.  He leaves his shirt on and pulls his boxer briefs down. He closes his eyes.  He wraps his hand around his hard shaft and despite how big his cock is, it almost looks normal sized in his massive hand.  He's proportional.
He's almost too tired to do it, but his arousal wins over.  He spits in his hand. He thinks about Rey sitting in his lap and begins to slowly move the skin on his shaft, lazily and in short, firm strokes, just getting warmed up. He thinks about her furrowed brow and her soft little sighs and how her warmth felt against his cock.  
Before he can get far, his nose begins to tingle. Ben yanks up his boxer briefs and palms himself through them as he closes his eyes to let it happen.  
But before he can see anything, Ben hears a moan echo from the bathroom of his hotel room.  He lies there frozen, wondering if his ears deceive him.  Then, he hears splashing and squeaking from the bathtub.  He jolts up and grabs his Glock from the nightstand. He holds it in both hands, his arms straight, and slowly approaches the bathroom.  He turns the door knob with one hand  and pushes it open before resuming his stance. Steam billows out of the door and the mirror is fogged up.  
The door creeps open the rest of the way on its own, and Rey is in a robe.  Thank God she's facing away from him.  He lowers his gun and quietly rushes back to the bed, taking huge strides. He puts the Glock in the nightstand but doesn't close it all the way.
The sink faucet turns on, then off.  Rey emerges from the bathroom and looks around curiously.  She doesn't  look surprised to see him. He hasn't done it on purpose, but the collateral gaslighting might be driving her mad. Surely she hasn't figured out how this works.  
Ben is lying on the bed in his boxer briefs and button up shirt.  He's still hard.  Her eyes meet his. "Ben," she says.  It's the first time she's said his name to him and it's the sweetest sound.  Her eyes scan his body, resting on his underwear longer than anywhere else.  She looks away shyly then he sees her remind herself it's not real. She gains confidence and smiles demurely at him.  "Where have you been?" she asks. "Where are we now?" She crosses the room slowly.  
Ben ignores the questions.  "Well, you found me,"  he says. Her eyes rest between his legs again.  He's emboldened by her continued belief that this isn't real.  He adds, "And you found me in quite a state." He strokes his hard length from outside his boxer briefs.  "Is this what you were looking for?" He looks down to his lap then meets her eyes again as he strokes himself slowly.  He knows it's what she wants. He still wants her to say it. 
Her hair is damp.  Her skin is rosy.  He's disappointed to have missed her bath, but glad she's here now.  Rey approaches the nightstand, then stands facing the bed, not far from him.  Ben wonders how much she can see in this room.  Can she see the napkin? The Glock in the nightstand? If she can, she ignores them.  She lets her robe fall open "Maybe so," she says.  That's close enough to a yes for him. 
Ben sits up in the bed and pivots to face her. He sits on the edge of the bed and takes both her hands in his.  He spreads his knees.  She stands in between his legs, close to the bed.  They search each other's eyes. He can feel all her thoughts even stronger now.  She wants him bad.  He scoots closer to the edge of the bed, barely on it.  His large feet are firmly planted on the floor. 
She wants his body against hers.  He brings his hands around her waist to the small of her back.  Her figure is striking and her skin is so soft and smooth.  He gently nudges her closer. His knees are spread wide with plenty of room in between.  She comes as close as she can and his clothed hardness meets her bare skin. 
She starts unbuttoning his shirt.  She looks even prettier with no makeup.   He strokes her damp hair, then cradles her pretty little head in both of his massive hands and brings her face to his. Their eyes close.  Her lips part.  Their mouths meet softly, then the kiss grows hungrier.  She wants Ben inside her.  He slips his tongue into her mouth and she meets it eagerly.  She finishes unbuttoning him as they make out.  
Ben moves his hands down each side of her neck, then to her collar bone.  He slips the tips of his fingers under each side of the robe and slides his hands gently to her shoulders.  She shrugs off the robe. His hands slide from her shoulders down to her breasts and cup them gently.  He takes one nipple into his mouth and moves his other hand around her back, down her spine as he tongues then sucks her breast. 
Her skin is supple and her ass is round.  He grabs a cheek in his large hand and pulls her into him, then his hand slides down her ass crack between her legs.  His middle finger reaches her pussy and she’s so fucking wet.  He releases her breast from his mouth and grabs her ass with both hands.  He stands up and lifts her off the ground in one swift motion.  Her legs wrap around him.  He turns around and lays her down on the bed and their faces meet again. His nose brushes hers as their lips come together.  As he reads her mind, he’s struck by the intensity of her passion for his nose.  He’s so fucking hard.
Her fingers curl under his undershirt.  He takes it off and she marvels at his physique - his sharp shoulders, his broad chest.  Her hands trace his hard pecs,   then his abs, and his happy trail.  Then she slides her hand inside his boxer briefs and seizes his huge, swollen cock.  Her hand feels so good.  He thrusts into her and her other hand grabs at the hem of his briefs.  He takes them off.  She wants him inside her so bad, but he wants her to say it.
He reaches a large hand between them to finger her while she strokes him.  As his long digits slide against her slick folds, he says, “You can have whatever you want.”  He knows there’s only one thing on her mind and it’s his cock.
“I want all of you,” she says.  She releases his cock and it smacks against her hip bone, then he removes his hand from between them and grinds his hips into her.  His hard cock slides along her folds and her head falls back.  Her neck is so delicate.  It’s hard to resist putting his hands around it but he doesn’t want to scare her.  
“Take it,” Ben snaps hastily.  “Take what you want.”  She opens her eyes wide and grabs his cock again.  She swipes a bead of pre-cum around the head, strokes him for a second,  then rubs his cock against her folds again.  She wraps her legs loosely around his back.  
Ben kisses her deeply on the lips and grinds into her hard.  He can feel her wanting something beyond his body, beyond this room.  “I want it to be real,” Rey says.  
“This isn’t real?” He asks with a twinge of guilt. It’s an inopportune moment for this conversation, in his opinion. He just wants to be inside her.  
“I want you in real life,” Rey says.  
He slides off her and rolls onto his back, breathing heavily.  He cradles his massive, aching erection in one hand, loosely stroking it.  “I do too,” he says.  
“How do I know?” she asks.  She rolls over on her side to face him and hooks a leg over his closest leg.  Her face is quizzical, but he can still see the want in her eyes. She traces his pecs and her nipple grazes his bicep. 
“You just know.” He laughs. “I know you know.” Rey climbs up and straddles his big thighs, hovering her lower abdomen near his cock as she searches his face. He'd say almost anything to fuck her right now, but he settles on something reasonable.  “Give me your number or something,” he says. "then I'll make sure you know it. I promise."  
She relaxes.  "Okay."  She seems to view this experience as some way of accessing her intuition or some kind of mystical guidance on how to get with him in real life. She feels like she has her next step now.  She'll give him her number.  
“Can we still have fun meanwhile?” He asks and his hips lift up under her. 
She smiles.  The only thing on her mind is his cock now.  She grabs it again and scoots forward more, her warmth hovering over his aching balls.  He sits up and kisses her passionately as she grinds into him.  
He nuzzles his nose against hers.  “Whatever you want,” he says.  Her hips roll into him more intensely until she rolls off of him and back onto the bed, lying face up, pulling him onto her.  He brings his whole body down into hers and she grabs his cock and nestles the tip at her entrance.  Ben kisses her deeply as he plunges into her.  She moans as the thick head parts her seam.  
He gives her a few seconds, then thrusts again, further into her.  She digs her fingers into his back.  Her cunt is so hot and tight.  He feels like he could come at any second already.  “More,” she says. 
He pulls out an inch or two then plunges all the way in and she moans.  They sloppily kiss as he thrusts into her again and again.  They sweat and their hot bodies slide against each other.  He knows he’s hitting that special spot deep inside her.  He knows she’s close. And so is he, his pleasure is building rapidly.  
As Ben pounds into her, Rey begins to whine and her face contorts.  “Yes, yes, Ben."  He feels a pang of pleasure in his balls at the sound of his name in her mouth. She says it again and he kisses her desperately before his name is gone from her lips, like he's catching it in his own mouth.  She comes and her walls clench around him, and he starts to come, too.  He slowly thrusts into her as his cock erupts.  When his balls are empty, he pries his lips away from hers to look at her.  His hair falls into her face and she tucks it behind his ear.  
There’s a knock at the door. For a moment Ben hopes Rey can't hear it, but her face screws up.  Ben ignores it and kisses Rey's neck sweetly, trying to make her forget about it.
Another knock.  "Ben, I know you're in there," Paige says from the door.  Rey's eyes water.
Ben wants to explain.  ,"No, it's not - hold on.  One second," Ben whispers to Rey. He gets up and starts toward the door.  When he glances back, Rey is looking at the napkin and key on the nightstand.  Before Ben can answer the door, Paige says "Whatever, you've got my key."
Ben turns around to come back to bed, but Rey is gone.  He stews over it for a while, but there's nothing he can do.
-
The second day of the conference, Paige starts off cold toward Ben, but she tries to cozy up to him more during the breaks.  He tries to play nice but he's upset about the night before.  There's no way she could have known, but it still bothers him. He replays Rey's thoughts in his head and he's fairly sure her infatuation and attachment will win out over apprehension.
Paige's presentation talks about waste and efficiency.  One of the types of waste is underutilized resources.  Ben doesn't want to say it in front of Paige, but he feels like his capabilities are underutilized.  There are so many times they forgo mind tricks in favor of straight-up offing someone.  It would be cleaner to just to make them forget.  
Of course, a mind trick doesn't always work.  He can't imagine it would work for someone like Mitaka who worked full time for them.  What memories would the person be left with?  Plus, there are different rules for snitches. But as far as Ben knows, a mind trick would've worked for the disposal that ultimately led to the Post article. Ben keeps his mouth shut, though. He doesn't want to draw more attention to himself by bringing up his capabilities.  Plus, he knows better than anyone that sometimes your temper just gets the best of you.
After the session, during the social hour, Ben gets invited on a hunting trip.  He says he should really get back to the store.  A big wig slaps him on the back and asks if he can tour the store the day after tomorrow.  Ben agrees. 
Ben really can't wait to get back to the store.  
-
Thank you for reading!
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ladyinwriting18 · 1 year
Text
Our First Valentine's Day
Summary: You and Clyde celebrate your first Valentine's Day together. Perhaps the two of you will finally take your relationship to a more intimate level.
Words: 3,538
Warnings: Fingering, oral sex, PIV.
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Today is Valentine’s Day. Your very first Valentine’s Day with your very new boyfriend, Clyde Logan. You two haven’t been dating for very long so you haven’t expected him to make a big deal of the day. But to your surprise, he had.  The evening had been spent going out to dinner and then the movies, where you and Clyde had split a bucket of popcorn. Electrical sparks had shot through you every time your fingers touched while reaching to grab popcorn. Even innocent touches shared between you set you aflame. Who could blame you? Clyde is tall, strong, and handsome. With full, pouty lips that you want to feel kiss more than just your mouth.
You shake the thoughts from your mind. It hasn’t even been a full month since the two of you started dating. And Clyde being the Southern gentleman that he is, hasn’t done more than hold your hand, hug you and kiss you. But as he pulls his truck up to the motel, you can’t help but hope that tonight he does more. 
You fidget beside him in the passenger seat with a mix of excitement and nerves. If tonight was going to be the night you finally slept together, then you wanted to be prepared. So prepared that you’re wearing a short, light pink babydoll nightgown and matching lace panties under your dress. You hope he’ll like it, since you aren’t exactly sure what his preference is when it comes to lingerie and such. What you do know is that he always treats you like a princess. So…why not dress the part?
He takes the key from the ignition and sees you make a move to get out of the truck. “You wait right there,” he teasingly scolds, then hops out to jog over to the other side and open the car door. He holds out a hand for you. You smile wide at how considerate he always is. “Why thank you, Sir.” You place your hand in his and let him help you step out of the truck. “Anything for you, Darlin’.” He momentarily strokes your cheek before grabbing both overnight bags from the backseat. 
You walk together towards the room that Clyde reserved for the night. He unlocks the door and holds it open for you to step inside first. You quickly flick on the light, illuminating the room. It’s an average motel room, but clean and spacious with a comfy looking king size bed. Waiting on the bed is a bouquet of sunflowers and roses. “Oh Clyde! They’re beautiful.” You excitedly go over and pick the flowers up to smell them before turning back to him. “You’re so good to me. Thank you.” “It’s nothin’ you don’t already deserve. I wish I could give ya more but I hope this is enough.” You hold your hand out for him, silently asking him to join you. He comes over to wrap his arms around you and leans down to kiss the top of your head. You look up into his eyes, making sure his focus is on you. “It is more than enough. You’ve made me a very happy girl today.” He can feel the tips of his ears burn. Knowing he’s pleased you does more than just make him happy, it turns him on.  Truth be told, Clyde had hopes for where the night took them, but he in no way wants to pressure you if you aren’t ready. He’s more than happy to take the backseat and let you drive until you give him the okay. Until then, he’ll keep things rated PG. “I was thinkin’ we could watch a movie and then maybe go get some ice cream. That place ya like is right down the road.” As he talks, he moves to the side of the bed and takes a seat. He toes off his shoes before reclining back against the headboard in his blue jeans and button up. It’s clear he doesn’t mean to look so alluring, but you can’t stop your eyes from roaming over his frame. Without looking away, you slip off your heels and climb up onto the bed. You crawl over and kneel beside him. “You’ve spoiled me tonight.” You reach out a hand and lay it on his thigh. “How can I ever repay you?” He nearly chokes on air when you grip his thigh. Something about it has him wondering about your motives. Was this your way of tentatively making a move? “Ya don’t have to repay me. I wanted to do this for ya.” He sits up, trying to make sure he says the right thing. “It’s…made me happy to do this for ya.”
You smile and squeeze his thigh. Taking this as a good sign, Clyde leans in and presses a soft kiss to your lips. Your reaction is better than he could have imagined. Not only do you return the kiss, but also wrap your arms around his shoulders. You seem to be tugging him closer as if urging him to touch you. It’s all the incentive he needs to pull you on top of him while sinking back into the bed. He groans into your mouth, flesh hand tangling in your hair while he slants his lips against yours. You melt into him, enjoying the feeling of his mouth and body heat. His tongue runs across the seam of your lips so you’ll part them and let his tongue slip into your mouth. Your hands move to the front of his dress shirt to start undoing the first few buttons. But when you find the undershirt he wears beneath, you whine at the material separating you from his skin.
You’ve waited so long to be close to him that you can’t help but feel frustrated. You break the kiss with a pout. Clyde chuckles at your impatience. “It’s alright, Darlin’. I’ve got ya.” He subtly ruts his hips up into you to let you know he’s as eager as you. “We have all night. I wanna treat ya right. Give ya what ya need.” His metal prosthetic hand squeezes one of your asscheeks before starting to scrunch the fabric of your dress up. The feeling of him pulling up your dress, reminds you of the surprise you’ve hidden. “I wore something especially for you.” Your cheeks heat up with your admission. “Do….Do you want to see?” You do your best to be confident. This would be the first time you’ve ever been this exposed in front of him. Half dazed, Clyde nods, excited to see that you’ve put together your own surprises for him. Still on your knees, you lift your dress above your head before tossing it on the floor. You pull your bottom lip between your teeth and look at him innocently. All you can do is pray that he likes what he sees.
From the way his jaw drops and his eyes dilate, he likes what he sees very much. His eyes drag over every detail of your body and the baby pink lingerie. He reaches out to feel the material between two fingers. “I ain’t never seen a more beautiful sight.” “Really? You like it?” Clyde nods, “Ya look like a lil’ Princess.” His voice drops to a lustful whisper. “Ma lil’ Princess.” The fingers that play with the edge of the lingerie, moves to grip your hip. You’re close to tackling him to the bed, but he asks if you’ll help him with the rest of his shirt. You immediately spring into action, ridding him of his dress and under shirt, revealing the smooth, soft skin of his chest and torso. He nervously licks his lips. “I know I’m no movie star—” You silence his words with a finger pressed to his lips. “We’re going to have some problems if you talk badly about my boyfriend.” Clyde chuckles at your playfulness and lets you continue. “I love what I see and I want to see more.” That catches his attention. His smile turns into a sly grin and pushes your finger away from his mouth. “Ah, so I have a greedy Princess on my hands, hm?” You giggle and look down shyly. The hand resting on your hip tugs you forward in time with him leaning up to capture your mouth. His kiss is slow but firm. You enjoy the pace since it lets you enjoy the softness of his lips and the scratch of his facial hair. Your hands lazily run over his chest, wanting to get to know his body. Your fingers find themselves at the waistband of his Levi’s, trailing lower until you accidentally touch the bulge in the front of his jeans. You break the kiss with a gasp and find Clyde smirking at you. “Go on, Princess. Take what ya want.” You’re so desperate to see him and touch him that his permission feels like a blessing. Your hands make quick work of his belt and zipper before hooking your fingers into the waistband and start tugging off his jeans and boxers. His legs are impossibly long. It feels like it takes fucking forever to strip him of his pants, but once they’re off, you toss them onto the floor and turn your gaze back to him. Your eyes go wide at the sight of him.
His cock stands proudly, thick and jetting up towards his navel with a mess of dark curls at the base. You crawl back to him, laying beside him in the crook of his arm. He smiles and pulls you in closer while his metal hand comes up to stroke your cheek. You grip the wrist and turn your face to kiss the palm. “Should I take this off for you as well? Whatever makes you more comfortable.” Clyde swallows thickly at your words, his face flushing slightly. “I…I don’t want to make ya uncomfortable, and if it’s better for ya that I keep it on, then I don’t mind. I just wanna make ma girl feel good-” You quiet him with a firm kiss, pouring your affection into it. “Your comfort is just as important as mine and you already do make me feel good. Having it on won’t affect that.” He mulls it over in his head, trying to decide. Since losing his hand he’s struggled with feeling man enough. Especially because women had started to look at him differently. But not you. You accepted all of him. “I’d prefer it off,” he whispers to you. Carefully, you start to remove his prosthetic. You watch his expression to make sure you’re doing it correctly and not causing him discomfort. Once it’s off, you place it on the nightstand beside the bed. You turn back to him and start to kiss from his shoulder, down his arm to where his amputation scar is, and kiss that too. He gasps when your lips come in contact with his scar. No one had ever touched it or treated it like this…like it was just another part of him that deserved to be loved and treated with reverence. “Is this okay?” He breathes out a ‘yes’ that almost sounds like a moan. You kiss all around his scar while your fingers massage his flesh. Above you, Clyde’s lips part and his head tilts back. He feels so…loved that he isn’t sure how to handle it. What he does know is that he wants to make you feel just as loved as he does. You kiss back up his arm to his chest and move to straddle him. With your knees on either side of his thighs, you’re able to press your chest to his and nuzzle his nose with yours. But you’ve ignited something in your Valentine. Something that leaves him aching for more than your sweet kisses. Using his strength, he flips you onto your back with him on top of you. He wastes no time in kissing and nipping at your neck and chest. Your giggles from being flipped over quickly dissolve into whimpers. The contrast between his soft lips and the sharp bite of his teeth leaves you quaking. 
He continues his way down to your thighs and pulls them apart to nuzzle his nose into your center. You can’t help but feel embarrassed, knowing that the lace panties are most likely clinging to your already wet cunt like a second skin. He inhales deeply, sighing at the scent. “Ya smell so sweet, Princess. Can I taste ya?” You find it hard to form words, so you nod and lift your hips to help him slide your panties off. You bite your bottom lip and let your knees fall apart, revealing your bare cunt to him for the very first time. Clyde stares, mesmerized by how soft and wet your cunt is. Not wanting to waste another moment, he shoves his face into your cunt and eats you like a man starved. He licks at your entrance before shoving his tongue as far as he can inside of you, tasting every drop of slick you have to offer him. After a moment, he pulls back to look at you. “Ya have the best tastin’ pussy I’ve ever had the pleasure of eatin’.” If you wanted to respond, Clyde doesn’t give you the chance before burying his face back between your thighs. He looks at you through his lashes, watching you thrash as he sucks on your clit. He rolls the bud between his teeth before flicking it with his tongue. You moan out his name, melting and opening your legs even wider for him. Having better access, he slips a single finger through your tight walls. You grind into his hand, panting even though he only has one finger inside. “Can ma Darlin’ take more?” You aggressively nod, feeling desperate. “Y-yes, more. I want more!” He doesn’t need to be told twice and slides a second finger in. Your inner walls clench around his thick digits as he fingers you with quick, slick thrusts. 
The way you moan and writhe for him makes him work harder. He works his tongue with more fervor, flicking your clit and picking up the pace of his fingers. Your cunt drips down to his palm, allowing him to slip in a third finger. You arch your back and cry out. How he already knows your body so well is beyond your realm of comprehension. You can already feel your orgasm drawing closer. That feeling only intensifies when he crooks his fingers in just the right spot that his calloused fingertips rub your g-spot. “Fuck! Clyddddeeee, right there! I’m s-so close!” He hums encouragement at you, trying to tell you he wants you to cum but doesn’t want to stop giving you pleasure. The vibrations go straight to your cunt and that’s all you need to reach your peak. Your cunt clamps down around his fingers and unfiltered music spills from your open mouth as you chant his name like a prayer. You feel like you’re floating on a cloud but Clyde focuses on working you through your orgasm. It’s only once your body slumps back onto the mattress does he remove his fingers from your core. He sits up and licks his fingers clean. “Mmmh, fuck me. I could eat your pussy all fuckin’ day and still not have enough.” He crawls back up your body with his chin and beard shiny with your slick. You don’t have time to feel embarrassed because he’s already pressing a kiss to your lips and sliding his tongue into your mouth so you can taste yourself. Your tongues play with one another, the passion between you increasing. “I want to make you feel good too.” You hum against his mouth and mischievously slide your hand down his body until it comes in contact with his cock. You purr at the feeling of it throbbing in your hand. “So big. You’re going to end up stretching me out.” Clyde groans at your words, hips bucking forward into your grasp. He’s too excited to wait any longer, so he flips you over again, pulling you to straddle him while he rests against the pillows. “Will ma Princess ride me?” You nod with a giggle. “If that’s what my man wants.” “Yeah, that’s what I want,” he responds almost breathlessly while watching you line his cock up with your entrance. 
You sink down slowly, head falling back at the feeling of him filling you up. Your cunt desperately tries to get accustomed to the girth of him. Every ridge and vein has you whimpering.  “Fuck Darlin’, you’re so fuckin’ tight. Can’t believe ya takin’ all of me.” The praise makes you shiver. Your hands grip his chest, using the leverage to start moving faster.
You’re bouncing up and down on his cock now, causing him to groan whenever your cunt flutters around him. He starts thrusting his hips in time with your movements, so that as you fall back down on him, his hips rise, spearing you hard on his cock and making you bounce. “Fuck, look at your tits,” he swears while watching them, hypnotized by the way they bounce in the pink cups of the babydoll you wear. His hand gropes at one and then the other as you continue to ride him. With a growl, he pulls your breasts free and moves his hand into your hair to pull you down so he can nuzzle his face against them. His facial hair tickles your skin, but the warmth of his mouth suckling at your nipples feels so good. They quickly become taunt under his ministrations. You feel yourself dripping down his length, especially now that he’s thrusting his hips even harder. His fat cockhead hits your cervix with each sloppy bounce.
It has you babbling, “Clyde! Feels so good. Y-You’re so deep in my cunt!”
His nostrils flare, tearing his mouth from your breast and watching your cunt swallowing him whole. The sight causes him to bite on his tongue to stop himself from cumming. He stares up into your eyes. His gaze is so intense that it steals your breath away. “Wanna make ya cum. Will ya let me, Princess?” “God, yes. Please, I want to cum for you.” His hand moves down between your thighs while his other arm comes around your waist to keep you close. With his thumb and forefinger, he pinches and rolls your clit between his two fingers. It has you throwing your head back and your thighs trembling. Your movements become more erratic, unable to focus on anything else but the pleasure coursing through your body. Your cunt starts clenching around him in longer intervals, telling him that your orgasm is near. “That’s it, Princess. Cum for me. Cum so I can fill ya up nice an’ full.” You wrap your arms around his shoulders and press your forehead to his, trying to steady yourself, but your body is taking over. His fingers work you faster, your swollen clit pulses against the pads of his fingers. You’re so close, moments away away from reaching your peak. You brokenly whine his name, feeling overwhelmed, but Clyde is there, holding you and praising you. “That’s it. I’m here, Babygirl. Right here. Cum on ma cock.” His fingers roll your clit just right and suddenly you’re shuddering and cumming so hard that you almost lose your balance atop him. He moans as you cum around him. Your walls squeeze his cock in a vice grip. He tries to hold off his own orgasm, wanting to fuck you through yours first, but he can’t stop the natural reaction of his body. “Shit! Fuckin’ Christ!” he howls, filling you with ropes of sticky cum. His cock throbs inside of you as aftershocks rip through his body. You cling to one another, catching your breath until Clyde sinks back onto the pillows, pulling you with him so you’re resting on top of his chest. “Princess, that was….God damn.” He sighs happily with his eyes closed. His comment earns him a giggle and a kiss to his chest before you look back into his eyes. He presses a kiss to your forehead while his fingers stroke your back. “Y’alright?” You answer without hesitation, “More than alright. You made me feel so good.” A smile spreads across his face. “I’m glad. That’s all I wanted, to make ma girl feel good.” “Well mission accomplished, Mr. Logan.” You stroke his cheek, wanting to show him more affection. “And are you alright?” “I couldn’t be more perfect,” he whispers before leaning in to place a soft kiss to your lips. The two of you resituate, you laying beside him within the crook of his arm. You lay a hand on his chest, directly over his heart.  A comfortable silence falls over the room. The two of you bask in the afterglow of your love making. Everything feels beyond perfect. You couldn’t want for anything else. Except…. “Clyde?” “Yes, Darlin’?” "Can we still go get that ice cream?” Laughter rips through him. His entire frame shakes with it. “Of course we can. Whatever ma pretty lil’ Valentine wants.”
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mrs-gucci · 6 months
Text
The Prank
{ flip zimmerman x female reader }
anon
Flip being an idiot and scaring you to get in the spooky mood! Or vice versa! Please and thank you
I kind of took this in a little bit of a different direction, it's not super duper spooky per se, but I love the idea I came up with and I hope you love it too!
warnings. FLUFF, very light sexual stuff, scaring/pranking, flip getting all grumpy, lingerie wearing, a kiss n' make up situation.
word count: 1.2k
★ written for sextember 2023 ★
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Flip, being a seasoned police detective, is a very hard man to scare. You're always trying to jumpscare him, but it never works, and it frustrates the hell out of you because he's constantly jumpscaring you. You just wanna get him really good one time, really scare him, and you've finally come up with the perfect plan to do it.
When you told Ron your idea, he was immediately eager to help you out, agreeing to do whatever needed to scare the living daylights out of Flip.
So when Flip calls and tells you he's on his way home, you quickly get your lingerie on and do your hair and makeup all nice. You really need to have Flip completely focused on you and get his guard down so Ron can do his thing.
You're buzzing with excitement as you head downstairs in your pretty set, one of his favorites, and make a quick call to Ron to confirm the plan. Then, you settle on the couch and put yourself on display as best you can while you wait for Flip to come home.
"Princess? I'm home!" he calls through the house as he normally does, pulling off his boots and putting out his cigarette in the ashtray by the door. "Baby, where--"
He turns the corner and finds you on the couch, all laid out in one of his favorite lingerie sets. He hums, pausing and leaning against the archway of the living room.
"What's all this for?"
"What, can't a lady dress up for her handsome, hardworking man every once and a while? Keep things spicy?"
Flip chuckles and walks over to you. "Hey, I never said I was complaining. Just didn't know if we were supposed to be celebrating anything, maybe one of those bullshit holidays we always use as an excuse to have sex, like fuckin' national laugh day or whatever."
"Oh my god," you chuckle. "We should really stop doing that, we really don't need any more excuses to have sex."
"Mm, you have a point," Flip hums, smiling as he pulls you to your feet and kisses you deeply. "But you have to admit, we've had some, mm, pretty great holiday celebrations."
You smile against his lips, nodding. "Yeah, we have."
Meanwhile, outside, Ron pulls into the driveway with his headlights off and takes it slow, not wanting to alert his partner to his arrival. He grabs his cuffs and sneaks around to one of the living room windows, staying low as he taps the metal cuff against the window.
Flip's head turns immediately in the direction of the sound, eyebrows furrowed.
"Did you hear that?"
You look up at him, pretending to be confused.
"Hear what, baby?"
"There was a tapping noise."
"I didn't hear it," you say, turning his head back to you and kissing him again. "It was probably just the icebox again, you know how it makes those weird sounds sometimes."
Flip's instincts were telling him there's something going on, but he chooses to ignore them in favor of kissing you some more. He hums, hands on your hips, squeezing them firmly.
"You look so beautiful, princess," he says against your lips, pushing you gently back down onto the couch. "I--"
Ron scratches along the window with his nails and Flip's head whips over again, walking towards the window.
"What the fuck is going on?" he says, looking through the window. "I swear to god someone's outside tapping the window. You're not hearing it?"
"No, baby, I have no idea what you're talking about. I didn't hear anything."
He huffs, then walks back over to you and lays down on top of you, kissing you again as he presses himself against you.
Ron grins and moves to the other window, then knocks quickly, squatting down in the darkness to hide in case Flip looks out the window.
"Alright now, this is getting fucking ridiculous. Either I'm crazy or you're going deaf, because that was very noticeable."
Flip huffs, making a move to get off you and walk over to the window. You hold his shirt and keep him on you, kissing his neck.
"Baby, don't get up again. It's okay, it's probably one of the neighborhood cats. I need you, Flip, please stay here..."
His jaw clenches, but he starts kissing you again. You left the back screen open for Ron so he can enter quietly, and you subtly keep a lookout for him as Flip starts to nibble at your neck.
Ron comes around the corner and you hum, smiling softly and winking at him. He grins, standing in silence for a moment before making his presence known by using his deep, serious shouting voice.
"ZIMMERMAN!"
Flip startles and tries to turn around but falls off the couch with a soft grunt. You burst into laughter and Ron joins in as Flip processes what just happened.
"What the fuck?!"
"Oh my god, that was amazing," you breathe, laughing hysterically. "We got you so good."
You give Ron a high five as Flip stands back up with a huff, crossing his arms.
"You guys fucking suck," he says bitterly. "Why would you do that?"
"Revenge, of course. You're always scaring me but I can never scare you. So I wanted to get you back for all those times."
“Well this was so much worse than anything I’ve ever done to you,” he says. “We were about to…that was just mean.”
You can tell that he’s actually getting upset over this, and you quickly wrap up the conversation with Ron. He can sense it too and heads out after a few more minutes, leaving you and Flip alone.
He walks over and grabs a beer from the fridge, opens it up, then takes a long sip. You sigh, getting up from the couch and walking to him, wrapping your arms around him from behind as he lights a cigarette.
“Baby, it was a little prank. Just for a little fun.”
“It wasn’t fun for me. I actually thought something was going on outside and I was getting worried. And the fact that you got all dressed up just to scare me…it was just shitty.”
You step around and give him a kiss on the cheek, then another, and another.
“Flip, baby, I’m sorry,” you say, pouting. “Please forgive me.”
He huffs. “I’m not happy with you right now.”
Your lips continue to press kisses all over his face, jaw and neck.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” you say with each peck. “I’m really sorry, baby.”
As much as he’s upset, your kisses and apologies are definitely chipping away at his hardened defenses.
His hand slips onto the small of your back but he still doesn’t look at you, hoping you’ll keep going but understand that he’s really not that upset without him having to say it.
You definitely understand it, and you smile slightly, but continue to kiss him until you finally press a kiss to his lips.
“Please forgive me?”
He looks at you, then, and smiles ever so slightly as he holds you close.
“You’re not gonna quit, are you?”
You shake your head with a smile, kissing him some more. "Nope, not until you forgive me."
"Alright, alright," Flip sighs, running his hand down to give your ass a firm squeeze. He smiles, then kisses you. "You're lucky I love you so damn much."
****
sextember taglist: @rynwritesstuff @safarigirlsp @babbushka @mrs-zimmerman
if you'd like to be tagged in future sextember works, please let me know via comment on this post or the original sextember post!
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babbushka · 1 year
Text
Before The Otherness Came (Prologue)
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Ben Solo (Kylo Ren) x OC
Prologue: 1k
Preview:
Smoke, black and pendulous, hangs in the air. It is thick, hard to swallow, hard to speak -- to breathe. He cannot see, cannot gasp around his own choking, eyes stinging. Something is wet on the floor, slippery. In the darkness there a haze of light, humming, splitting the ash and soot and screams in the night, a streak of blue like a long exposure hologram, arcing in a violent ballet against a clash of green, until the sparks blind white, a hoarse chant demanding to do it, end it, and a scream of his name in an all too familiar voice is cut short by his own hand -- 
Ben gasps awake, drenched in sweat. The same nightmare again, always the same one. One would think he’d be used to it by now or rather, he should know how to quiet his mind better by now. Thirty years and his thoughts are still too loud, so loud that he worries he may have woken everyone else up at the temple. 
Click Here to Read on AO3!
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strangunddurm · 2 months
Text
Mine
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Masterlist
Pairing: Flip Zimmerman x fem!reader
Summary: Flip Zimmerman was a man that liked to eat his cake and have it, too.
Word count: 4.4k
Warnings: PinV sex, unprotected sex, fingering, masturbation, swearing, dirty talk, oral (fem receiving). 
A/N: It's been ages since I wrote something so I'm so proud of myself for finally finishing something.
It was common knowledge that Flip Zimmerman was utterly and completely infatuated with you. You were it for him. The one he would marry, build a house for, have kids with. You would be his end, but you were not his beginning.
It was also common knowledge that Flip Zimmerman was on an apparent path to sleep with everyone he could that wasn’t you. Fuck, finger, and fondle like he wasn’t an officer of the law and he wasn’t in a very public bar at that very moment. You could see his hand run along her leg, caressing it with the pads of his fingers before it disappeared beneath the fabric of her skirt.
She threw her head back, laughing like nobody was watching, but, of course, you were. Your eyes were always lingering on his figure, just as his were yours. He watched you as he traced the lace of her panties, as he dipped them under the fabric; he watched you as he guided her lips to his; he watched you as he shattered your heart, always knowing that the comfort of your arms would always be there to sooth him in the end.
You often found yourself wondering: why? Why weren’t you enough for him at this point? Flip had this ability where he could string you along enough so that you, yourself, would feel guilty thinking of another man. Your possible unwillingness weren’t the reason for Flip’s hesitancy to commit, it was his. The unwilling fool in love with the same person he had always loved. Or perhaps you were the fool? Two fools in love that could never let the other one go.
Your friends often wondered why you subjected yourself to the torture of witnessing his lips upon another’s. You didn’t know how to explain to them that you only existed because of him. However demeaning and desperate it sounded, it was true. Whilst others existed for bettering the world or something other, you were made just to be his.
You thought for a while that you could live without him. That you could break free from his hold and flee from the place where everything reminded you of him but it was impossible. It didn’t make sense, how a man could possess you so entirely with just a whisper of attention. You thought it to be your own fault; a bleeding consequence of hope that wrecked your heart beyond anyone else’s repair. All you could do was wait for him. For you would forever be missing him otherwise, regretting not taking the possibility of even the tiniest something.
So, you found yourself there, putting on a front of indifference as you tried not to watch every stupid move Flip made in the arms of another. She was smug. It was so obvious from the way her eyes would flicker over to you every now and then as his lips caressed her shoulder or her neck.
She knew of Flip’s fondness for you, having seen the way he had given you a sliver of attention by the bar, letting his hand ghost over your hip before she had successfully lured him away from you and into her arms.
You were zoned out, barely hearing your friends’ voices as you stared hard at them. Your lip was near bloody from your nervous chewing as you, almost ritualistically, dragged your teeth over it again and again.
“How long are you going to keep doing this to yourself?” The words were spoken in your ear, your best friends arm coming to wrap around you, pulling you into her embrace.
“I…” She didn’t allow you to continue on the miserable spiel that she had heard so many times before.
“I don’t want to hear it. Not again. You need to realise that you’re worth more than whatever the hell this whole thing is,” She pleaded, pressing a kiss against your temple. “You have to stop doing this to yourself.”
“I don’t know if I can,” you sounded so fragile at that moment. Your voice wavered at the end, fading out as everything you felt became almost too much.
“Yes, you can. You just need to realise that you don’t owe him anything. Sitting here completely miserable isn’t going to make him change or do anything different.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because I’ve been here with you! Every night we go out to have fun, he comes along and ruins it.”
“No, he doesn’t.” You turned to look at her as you forced the words out harshly. But the look in her eyes made the feigned anger falter.
“I love you. You deserve more. Try to enjoy your life before you realise it’s too late,” She said, squeezing your shoulder.
Did you really deserve more? You had been caught up in the web of Flip for so long that you truly did believe that staying completely devoted to him was the only way forward. You knew he would eventually tire and stop indulging himself in others. It was an unconventional relationship, unfavourable to you in every sense.
But who was to say that you weren’t allowed to enjoy others? Just the way he were? An innocent tryst with another that would scratch that itch not even your fingers could ease late at night.
You let your eyes trail over the inhabitants of the local watering hole. There were the usuals there, sitting at the bar, nursing their beers. A group of frat boys were in the corner, cheering over shots. It wasn’t until a pair of dark brown eyes met your own that your interested was piqued.
You probably wouldn’t have dared made a move if he hadn’t come sauntering over. He didn’t walk like Flip. Flip’s walk was self-assured, dominating in a subtle way. This guy walked in a cocky way, shoulders swaying with every step as he though himself holier than thou. It was off-putting, but you thought you owed it to yourself to at least try.
“Saw you watching me over there.” His attempt at flirting was just as cocky as his walk.
“Oh, hahah..” Your laugh was awkward as you fumble for a reply. “Do you come here often?”
“First time actually, I’m here visiting my brother.” He motioned toward some guy in the back that you couldn’t see.
“That’s nice,” You said awkwardly.
He introduced himself as he took perch on the barstool next to you, shaking your hand weakly.
“So, what do you do for fun around here?” He asked, motioning for the bartender to refill both of your glasses at the same time.
“Ehm… Come here, I guess.” You waved your hand in the air, uncommittedly. Anxiety was flooding your nerves, practically inhibiting your ability to speak. You let your eyes trail over the room again quickly. Flip was still hands-deep in that woman’s skirt, your friends had slipped off somewhere else, getting lost in others.
The man, Chris, held a one-sided conversation without seeming to notice your less than keen interest. The thought of letting go and trying to flirt with somebody else was always easier in theory rather than practice.
It wasn’t his fault, if you were somebody else you might’ve enjoyed it. But all you could think about was the way his eyes were too dark, his hair too light, and his voice to high to remind you of Flip.
“Listen,” He placed his hand on your thigh. High up, bold, wanting. “I really like you, what do you say about getting out of here?”
You didn’t have a chance to respond before a chest pressed against your back.
“She’s not going anywhere with you.”
You felt faint hearing Flip’s voice rumble through his chest as he pulled himself closer to you. His hand wrapped around Chris’s wrist, forcing it away from your leg.
“Hey, man, we were having a conversation here.” Chris was foolish. It wasn’t his fault, he wasn’t from here, after all. He didn’t know the perfectly concealed rage that could simmer under Flip’s skin when he felt like he was being disrespected.
“I’m going to offer you a piece of advice.”
“Flip, don’t-” Interjecting was pointless. Flip did whatever Flip wanted.
“You should take your drink, go back to whatever lowly corner you came from, and stay there. Get it through your thick skull that you’re not wanted here.” Flip roughly pushed the glas of beer Chris had been nursing on the bar, it’s content sloshing over the sides as it almost toppled over.
The silence that followed hung in the air, permeating it, polluting it. It didn’t take long for Chris to visibly crumble under Flip’s stare but it was almost as if he didn’t want to admit it to himself. He didn’t want to give in to the menacing man that had appeared out of nowhere. Reasonable, perhaps, but entirely futile. Flip would always get what he wanted in the end, no matter what.
Chris left without a word, sparing you a pitiful glance before he was gone and all that was Flip took over your senses as he rounded you, coming to a stop so you were chest to chest.
You refused to look at him, staring straight ahead, focusing on the way his chest would calmly breath in and out as he waited.
“Look at me,” His voice was low, steady. You wanted to, of course, but you were stubborn. Just when you were putting yourself first, there he was again. A forever keg in your wheels, keeping you in the same place.
His fingers were soft against your chin as he urged it upwards, making you look at him.
He was smiling. Not a full on grin, but that sweet, cheeky little smile that held so much mirth that you wanted to hit him. It’s like he’d been waiting for this, waiting for you to act out and finally do something for yourself.
“Wipe that smile of your face,” you hissed out. “What could you possible have to smile about?”
“You.”
“Oh, yeah, because it is so funny ruining my fucking life.”
“Ruining it?”
“Yeah, ruining it.”
“You should’ve just said something if you felt that way.” You almost laughed at that. It wasn’t like you hadn’t said something. It felt like all you did was talk, and all he did was not care.
“Cut me a fucking break, Flip. Don’t act like you don’t know what you’ve been doing to me. This- this game you’ve been playing, toying with my heart. One minute it feels like you might actually want me but then the next you go and fucksomebody else and I’m just suppose to pretend that it’s all fine?”
“It’s not?” He said, playfully.
“Fuck you.”
“Stop swearing, and keep your voice down.”
“What? So that your whore won’t hear us?”
“She means nothing,” He said
“So why do you keep doing this? Why keep stringing me along?” You were defeated. Your relationship with Flip was strange. Peculiar. Unexplainable in certain aspects as you yourself did not entirely know exactly what you two were.
You looked up at him, tears brimming in your eyes as all the hurt you had felt over the past however-long caught up to you. He was looking down at you, as if in wonder. Was it possible that Flip Zimmerman was naive to the way he had treated you? To the way he had made you suffer? Had you been imagining it all in your head?
He didn’t look sorry, he didn’t sound sorry, but when the apology tumbled out of his mouth, you accepted it. Perhaps it was you who were naive but you wanted a moment of happiness with him. Even if it was a moment entirely clouded by delusion.
You nodded your head, a small movement of acceptance that made Flip light up.
Flip would always shine brighter than any star you had ever seen. He took your breath away and filled you with a rush of serotonin every time you gazed into his eyes for even a brief second. His eyes were like molten gold, blinding you as they tinkled. Devotion to him and only him was inevitable.
“Will you come home with me?” The answer was obvious. The question had been what you had waited for. Taking his hand and slipping out through the door before any of your friends still caught in reason could stop you.
His hand dipped between your legs, fingers mapping out a path to your most sacred place the second he pushed you through the door of his home.
"Look at you, already so wet for me." Flip chuckled darkly. He knew you couldn't resist him. Your need for him was as deep as his need was for you.
His lips met yours in a searing kiss that took your breath away. His tongue caressed yours as teeth clashed.
His fingers toyed with your panties, teasing you. He knew how desperate you were for anything he would give you.
He took his time, teasing your more and more before he finally was gracious enough to slide a finger inside of you. Just a single finger to test you. You walls clamped down around him tightly, gripping him, coaxing him to give you more. He pumped it in and out of you slowly, so slowly that you thought you might lose your mind if he didn't give you something more, and you voiced so much.
"Please, Flip." What you needed was clear. But that didn’t mean Flip would be so easy to give in.
"You’ll get more, sweetheart. Don’t you worry.” He said sweetly before withdrawing from you completely.
"Flip-"
"You're so impatient." He chided you, tutting teasingly with a lazy smile on his lips. “Go to the bedroom.” He commanded whilst motioning his head in its direction. You were quick to obey, of course, feet moving swiftly as you stumbled your way on shaky legs through the halls and onto his bed.
You flipped onto it in excitement, eager for his touch once again.
“Is this what you wanted? To be one of my whores?” He asked as he undressed slowly, unbuttoning his flannel and letting his jeans fall to the floor before he took a stand by the foot of the bed. He trailed his hands up your legs equally as slow before grabbing a hold of your panties and pulling them off you. You couldn’t get any words out to respond, whining with need.
The evidence of your excitement was clear to him, almost dripping and shining in the low light. A sane man wouldn’t be able to hold back having a women presented so willingly to him with her legs spread wide and skirt bunched up around her hip, chest heaving with excitement. And of course, Flip was a sane man, in some sense at least, for he was quick to crawl in between your legs and mouth attached to your clit.
Digging his fingers into your thighs, he hauled one of them onto his shoulder and connected his mouth to your sweet cunt.
The sounds of your breathless moans were intoxicating as he suckled your clit into his mouth, flicking his tongue over the stiff nubb.
Your knees fought against his shoulders as your hand came to cover your mouth, willing any sounds to stay inside of you as you bit down softly as you were overwhelmed by the pleasure rushing through you.
“You taste so fucking good, sweetheart.” Flip praised in a panted breath before diving back in.
You fought to keep your eyes open as your hips moved up and down in a desperate attempt to grind your aching clit against his mouth and nose in search for that perfect sensation that would drive you over the edge.
Your hand slid into Flip’s hair, gliding through it before grasping a firm hold of it as a wave after wave of moans finally made their way out of you.
Flip had already made you come once when he slid his fingers into you, continuing his ministrations on your clit with his mouth. His movement were much rougher than what they had been before, thrusting them into you expertely, hitting that sweet spot of yours over and over again.
Your back arched into the air and mouth fell open at the overstimulation. It was exquisite.
“Oh, oh, Flip. I’m gonna cum.” You whined desperately. “Oh, God.”
You clung to his arm in an attempt to hold on to any sort of sanity but it was all for nought. Your legs spasmed as you came with a cry.
Flip tried to hold you down as he never let up despite your half hearted please, flicking the tip of his tongue over your clit again and again and again. He worked you through your orgasm, never relenting as your silent whimpers spured him on. You had such a tight hold on his hair that it made him groan, sending a wave of vibrations through you that caused you to gasp. He only stopped once your whimpers had grown in volume to a steady whine of pleas.
“You’re such a good girl.” Flip praised as he came up, hovering over you. “You gonna let me fuck you, sweetheart?”
“Yes! Please, Flip.”
He tugged at his hard and weeping cock a few times as he admired you. You were breath taking like this, legs parted, eyes hazy from your orgasm, cunt dripping, ready for him.
"You’re gonna look so gorgeous, covered with my cum." Flip's voice was husky as he leaned down and pulled you closer to him by your face before planting a sloppy, wet kiss on your lips as he came to rest between your hips, a single arm keeping him up.
He dragged his thick and cum weeping cock through your folds a few times, thoroughly coating it in your slickness. The anticipation was killing you. His fingers and tongue weren't enough, you wanted more, needed it.
You grabbed a hold of his shoulders, pulling him closer even to you in desperation.
"Please, Flip." You whispered, ready for him.
The sigh the both of you let out when he finally slipped all the way into your cunt was one of relief. You had missed this, had missed him.
Flip didn't give you time to adjust to him before he started pounding into you at a pace that was brutal in nature, just the way he knew you liked it.
“You’re such a dirty fucking whore.” He spat at you and you clenched around him in response. "Look at you, so desperate for my dick you could almost cry." Being his whore and whatever he wanted was everything you had ever wanted since the moment you had laid eyes on him.
He was so deep inside of you that you barely knew what to do with yourself. Flip's loud groans were bouncing around the walls of his room, blended in with your own gasps from every thrust into you.
Your walls were clenched so tightly around him, drawing him deeper and deeper inside.
"Fuck" You groaned. "Feels so- fucking good." You shakily breath out.
"This is what you wanted right? My cock so deep within you you’ll feel me for days" He cooed, slowing down just slightly, but each thrust was still as sharp, still as precise, and hard, and calculated.
A wailing yes! left your lips. You were sure you would be able to feel Flip's hands on your hips as you would nurse your hangover tomorrow, and most likely the day after that as well. You would feel him in every step you took. Forever.
"Harder." You pleaded.
He pulled out so just his tip was left in you, waiting there for just a second before slamming back into you again, buried to the hilt. The groan Flip let out sent tingles down your spine and caused you to clench even tighter around him, triggering another moan from him.
"I love it when you do that." He praised, followed by another rut into you.
He continued pumping into yours sweet cunt, drawing moans from you that were filthy. The sound of skin slapping and noises of pleasure mixed together as they bounced on the walls and around the room.
His thrusts had picked up in pace one again, ruthless and reckless as he fucked deeper and deeper into you. You were trembling against him, breath hitching, getting caught in your chest as you almost forgot how to breathe. You could feel your release mounting quickly once again, shockwaves gripping your body and rolling through you with every buck into you.
"Fuck, I'm gonna come,"
"No, you're not." Flip withdrew from you completely, flipping down on the bed beside you. You were drunk on the feeling of him, needy and desperate, ready to take everything he would give to you.
His legs were spread, cock standing on full attention, bobbing against his stomach, it's tip coloured an angry red, ready to be inside of you again.
"Come on then." He pulled you out of the short-lived trance you had been in over the sight of him. You though again of how there was something so ethereal about him, something other than just his looks, something that would always draw you back in and keep you on his hook.
You were quick in your movements, throwing a leg around his hips and hoisting yourself upright, causing him to chuckle over your desperation.
"Eager, are we?" He welcomed you with open arms, hands coming up to rest on your hips once again, as he gazed up at you with a smile on his face.
He helped you pull your wrinkled dress over your head, placing open mouthed kisses on every inch of your skin he could reach. His lips attached themselves to your perked nipple, sucking it into his mouth and releasing it with a pop.
"You're so fucking gorgeous." He sounded as if he was in awe simply over the sight of you.
You sank down swiftly, engulfing him with your tight walls, stopping only when you were at the base, stuffed full of him.
"Oh, fuck, Flip!" The change in angle had you convinced that he was deeper in you than ever before, the tip of him nestling against your cervix.
"You feel so good like this." Flip moaned. He tapped two fingers against the side of your thigh, signalling you to move and you were more than happy to oblige. Your feet were securely rooted on the floor and you placed your hands on the walls to give yourself the leverage and support you needed to begin riding him.
He let you control every movement; let you set the pace as you slid up and down on his throbbing cock. Flip's hands were exploring every inch of you that they could reach, massaging your breasts, caressing your thighs, sliding across your back, and then, finally, they found their way to the apex of your thighs and started firmly circling your clit.
Flip let out a loud grunt every time you slammed yourself down onto him. It was a sound you wanted to hear every day, every waking moment and in every vivid dream.
The steady pace that you had managed to keep was slowly becoming nothing as you felt yourself loosing control over your limbs the closer you climbed to that high you were chasing. The muscles in your stomach were tightening rapidly over the coiling tension and your walls gripped him even tighter.
"Say my name."
"What?" You weren't lucid enough to possibly begin to understand what he meant at that moment.
"Say. My. Name." He repeated, making sure to punctuate every single word with a small thrust upward to meet you as you came down on him.
His name spilled out of your mouth just a few seconds later in the form of a moan.
"Who’s making you feel this good?" You weren't as quick to heed his words this time, the building pressure between your legs taking up all of your attention.
His hands were back on your hips, forcing you up, slipping out of you, and then guiding you dominantly into the position he wanted with your face pressed into the sheets and your ass high up in the ar. He was swift to enter you again, you had barely even had time to complain over the loss of him before he was drilling into you.
"Flip!" You shouted his name as you finally came, tumbling over the edge as stars were painted behind your eyelids. Your legs were shaking, spasming, through the waves, words of gibberish leaving your mouth as he made you babble like a brook. He hadn't even faltered in his movements, continuing to pump into you as he chased his own climax. He was panting loudly in between groans and the sound of skin slapping against each other.
"Who owns this pussy?"
"You." Another sharp thrust into you.
"Who owns this pussy?"
"You, Flip. Oh, god, you, Flip!" Small droplets of tears were leaking from the corner of your eyes as Flip was steadily driving you to cum again as he fucked into you.
You hadn't felt this way before, you didn't even know you could feel this way; the overwhelming stimulation that was rushing through your blood, lighting your nerves on fire, making you want to stay right here, right now, forever.
"That's fucking right." Flip came with a deep jerk into you, pulling out to come all over your back before entering you again to give you a few last thrilling pumps.
You laid there on his bed in a heap, totally out of it as he calmly came to rest beside you. He coaxed you onto your back so that he could plant a sweet kiss on your lips. Uttering words that made your erratic heart pump even faster.
“All mine.”
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kylowritten · 10 months
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Why Me?
Pairings: Phillip Altman x F!Reader
Summary/Excerpt: "There's a litany of things you never thought you would do, one of them being returning to your home town to attend your high school reunion. Next on the list: falling in love with Phillip Altman."
Warnings: cussing, recreational drug use, talking about sex, making out, partial nudity
Word Count: 2.8k
A/N: The title of this should actually be "Why is Adam Driver so Fucking Adorable"
This fic is a part of the prompt exchange with @juniperwoodwell
There's a litany of things you never thought you would do, one of them being returning to your home town to attend your high school reunion.
"It's not a setback," you tell your reflection. "It's just a...readjustment."
The woman in the mirror hardly looks convinced. But you promptly ignore her, grab your purse, and head out the door to meet your Uber. You aren't so desperate as to rectify the failing relationship with your mother by asking her for a place to stay — God, you couldn't even imagine the state of your childhood bedroom — so you rented the cheapest motel room that you could find.
The door swings shut behind you and the sound of your heels on the weed-clotted pavement joins in with the symphony of cicadas. Humidity presses against you like an unwelcome embrace from an elderly relative. Flippantly, you think that you should've packed a travel size hairspray, or deodorant into your purse, but your thoughts have been far away from appearances and personal hygiene.
You had one thing on your mind.
You clarify that the driver is here for you, and climb into the backseat. An old country song floats through the speakers. You're barely out of the Motel 8 parking lot before trepidation fills you — high school wasn't a grand experience (but was it for anyone?). As soon as you flung your cap on the air, you swore you would never come back. So why were you now?
The car abruptly halts at the side of a curb. You look up from your phone, which you've had nervously clasped on your lap, tapping away meaninglessly. The houses that surround you are distinctly suburban, nice, but not overly so, like most of the neighborhoods here.
"What's going on?" You ask. "I need to go to the high school."
The driver meets your gaze in the rearview mirror. "I'm picking up another rider."
"What? No, I didn't want Uber pool."
"Sorry, kid," the driver replies. "I'm the only Uber in town, and everyone is going to the same place."
Great, you think, sinking back in your seat. Not only were you going to have company, but it was going to be some chum from your class. Worst case scenarios run through your head: an ex boyfriend? The mean girl? But a surprising warmth forms in the pit of your stomach when the new rider flings open the door and crouches down to get inside. "Shit, fuck," the rider declares as they hit their head on the car.
Then, rather ungracefully, Philip Altman folds himself into the backseat besides you.
He doesn't realize who you are until he's finished rearranging his long legs and muscular form, barely succeeding in making himself comfortable in the backseat of the car. You're staring at him when he finally glances your way, and a blush dusts your cheek as his eyes light up. "Is that you? In the flesh?"
"I know, I'm surprised too," you say.
"What are you doing here?" He excitedly asks, then shakes his head. "Don't answer that, I know why. I guess I just didn't think that you were the reunion type."
You raise a brow. "And what type would I be?"
"You know," he said, as if you did. He jostles your side in a companionable fashion. When you don't register what he's implying, a look of shock takes over his handsome features. "What? The hot girl? You seriously don't know."
You fix him with an incredulous look. "C'mon, Phillip."
He holds up both of his hands defensively. "I'm being completely honest. I swear on my father's grave, bless his soul," he adds, then tilts his head. "Can you still swear on people's graves?"
"I heard about that," you say, softly. "I'm so sorry."
"Thank you." A look passes over his face, one that you can't quite read, disappearing quickly. "Fortunately, I have coping mechanisms. Adult ones."
He pulls something from his back pocket: a joint.
You glance at the driver, then Phillip. "I haven't..." you trail off, gesturing with your hands, "since high school."
Amusement flickers across his face. "We're going to our high school reunion, don't you want to reunite with something else?"
You order the driver to drop you off a few blocks away from the high school. Phillip grabs your hand and tugs you out of the car, throwing a "thank you" over his shoulder. You're both giggling as you find an alleyway to duck into, an uncontainable smile unfurling on your mouth as Phillip strikes up his lighter. 
He takes a long drag, then hands it to you. You fumble with it. "Do I even remember how to do this?" You ask, to no one in particular. 
Phillip grins at you, smoke streaming steadily from his mouth. "It's like riding a bike," he remarks. "Except the bike is made out of smoke and the road is made out of good times."
He finishes this intelligent analogy right as you bring the joint to your lips and inhale. You snort and then choke on your laughter, and then on the smoke, inducing a coughing fit that is not at all remedied by Philip's own howls of laughter. "Dumbass," you say, swatting his arm. 
You snatch the joint back from him once you're satisfied that your coughing fit is over. The weed hits your lungs, pungent and powerful, and you can feel the tension begin to melt from your body. You tilt your head back and gratuitously blow out the smoke, watching as it rises into the air, twisting and turning. When you look back at Phillip to proffer the joint again, he's already staring at you. It's in this moment that you remember all of the rumors in high school. 
Although you didn't necessarily run in the same circles, you saw each other at the occasional party or school function. The rumor then was that he was an apologetic flirt and playboy, hopping from one eager girl to the next. 
The rumor didn't matter to you in high school, you had your own shit to figure out. 
But now, looking at him, illuminated in the hazy dusk light, there's a tightening in your stomach that high school you had never acted on. 
Smoke breezes past your face as Phillip exhales, drawing you from your trance. His brows pull downwards. "Everything okay, kid?"
"Yeah. Perfect," you tell him. You pause. "Can I tell you the real reason I'm here tonight?"
He feigns offense. "You mean it wasn't to smoke some shitty weed with me in a dark alley like a couple of prepubescent hoodlums?"
This brings a smile to your face, but you ignore him. "Promise you won't laugh." Phillip makes the motion of crossing his heart. Taking another drag and summoning your courage, you tell him, "I never had sex in high school. So I thought that by coming back I could fuck someone from high school and it would kind of, like, settle the score."
"Oh." Philip's lips twitch with barely retrained amusement.
"You said you wouldn't laugh!" You tell him. "It's stupid, I know."
"I don't think it's that stupid," he assures you. "There's some people who genuinely want to relive their high school days and reconnect with their peers." 
He says this as if it ranks only just below murdering a bunch of baby orphans.
"I guess," you say. You feel relieved to have said it out loud, like Phillip was a priest and you were confessing your sins to him. When he changes the topic, reserving his judgement if he had any, it only solidifies your trust in him.
You waste almost half an hour, smoking and swapping stories about your lives since high school. You thought, going into tonight, that you would have to embellish yourself and your achievements, but you didn't feel that need with Phillip. He made you feel safe. Worthy. It was an excellent precursor to the reunion; you no longer felt nervous, and upon realizing that you were going to be unfashionably late, Phillip pinches the top of the joint and shoves it back into his pocket before once again seizing your hand. Another thing to add to the litany of things you never thought you would do: run giggling, hand in hand, with Phillip Altman through the front doors of your high school.
Horribly loud music washes over you as you check in at a table, giving your name to a girl that you don't even remember. Quickly, you scribble down your name on a name tag and slap it on your chest. Phillip snickers as he scribbles something down, sharpie scratching against the material. He proudly slaps it on his chest.
It reads: Phillip Assman.
The girl at the front table makes a face.
You, however, find it absolutely hilarious. 
Philip eventually ushers you away, still cackling, as more last-minute people trickle in through the door. He grabs your shoulders and directs you into the gym where the reunion is actually being held. Streamers with your school colors are taped limply on the walls. Several high-top tables occupy the gym floor, most of them crowded around by former students deep in conversation. There's a bar on one side of the gym, and a DJ booth on the other. 
You open your mouth to ask Phillip if he wants a drink, right as he's flagged down by someone standing around one of the tables. You don't recognize them. He waves and moves as if to join them, but stops and addresses you, "I'll be right back."
You watch him leave, ignoring the small kernel of disappointment inside you. 
Whatever, you think. It's not like you came together. He was just a guy that had the same Uber with you and you shared a joint. Not a big deal. 
Straightening your shoulders, you turn on your heel and march over to the bar.
Alcohol, as it turns out, is a wonderful crutch for social interactions. You drift awkwardly through the gym, catching up with a few people whose friendship have gradually eroded over time, and pretending to be enjoying yourself. Your high helped, clinging to you like a weed-fueled security blanket. But you maintained a vague impression that you made a mistake coming here. 
No one had magically gotten more attractive or interesting in the years since you graduated. There was one guy from your freshman algebra class that you bumped into while waiting in line for the bathroom, a guy who you probably would've totally fucked under different circumstances. But your mind kept wandering, and you ended up making up some half-ass excuse and scurrying away from his blatant attempts at flirting. 
Because, infuriatingly enough, you only had one guy on your mind.
Unhappy with this realization, you quickly do your business and then hightail it for the parking lot. You're embarrassed that you even came, you're embarrassed about why you came, and you're embarrassed that - not unlike a high school girl - you can't stop thinking about the stupidly good-looking guy you interacted with for only a few moments. "Idiot," you mumble to yourself, pushing your shoulder into the door and stepping outside.
The cold sobers you up considerably, and you ditch the red solo cup you'd been carrying for the last hour or so. You needed to just go back to your motel. In the morning, you could forget that this ever happened and erase Phillip Altman from your mind. 
"Hey, where are you going?"
You stop and turn, your heart pumping out a traitorous rhythm as Phillip emerges from the front doors and jogs over to you. Fuck, how did he manage to even look good in the shitty glow from the streetlights? He shoves his hands in his pockets. 
"You're not leaving, are you?" He glances over your head, scanning the lawn as if expecting to discover a reason for your departure, then back to you. "Come out here to puke or something? Those bushes right over there are --"
"No," you interrupt, sharper than you intend. You sigh, and try to soften your voice. "I shouldn't have come here. I-I'm going home. Well, not home, but my motel room."
You're rambling. And you're aware that you're rambling, but it's doing nothing to deter it.
"You can't leave," he says.
You arch a brow. "What? Why not?"
He withdraws the joint from his pocket, which admittedly looks a little more crumpled than the last time you'd seen it. "This joint is legally binding. You have to finish it with me."
"Or?"
He shrugs. "We probably shouldn't find out. You know, just in case." 
"Phillip -"
"We could go back to your room," he says. Recovering, he adds, "If that's okay. Or even that dark alley. It was warm and inviting, not to mention sanitary. We could go back there."
You smother your grin. It's not fair, that you've just reconnected with this man who you knew only in the abstract before, but now have become utterly transfixed by him. He has a magnetism about him that you can't ignore. 
You feel yourself thawing. "What about all of your friends?" You ask, gesturing towards the school. "You can't just leave them."
Phillip makes a face. "Who cares?" He grabs your hand - did he do that a lot? Grabbing hands randomly? - and hauls you to the curb, where he expertly flags down an awaiting Uber driver. "M'lady," he says, as he holds the door to the backseat open for you. 
The drive back to the motel is spent with you discreetly (read: not discreetly) sharing the joint and blowing the smoke out the cracked window. Your Uber driver seems less than impressed with you by the time you tumble out, but Phillip assuages your poor behavior with a generous tip. The heady combination of alcohol and weed, and Philip, fuels you. 
There's no saying who makes the first move -- your mind is swimming with elation from your company. But it happens sometime between the car pulling away from the curb and reaching the room of your motel. Phillip pushes you up against the side of the building, peppering your neck with kisses and whispering dirty things in your ear as you fumble for the key card. He feels so warm and comfortable and secure, and you desperately want to undress him, to explore him with your hands and your mouth and discover what he's like as he unravels. 
The door clicks as your key card finally registers. "Finally," Phillip all but growls. 
You squeak as he lifts you up, wrapping your legs around his waist as he nudges the door open with his foot and marches you inside. You're both still giggling like kids between desperate, hungry kisses, his hands reaching under your shirt and your hand disappearing beneath the waistband of his jeans. 
It's only when you're both left in your underwear that Phillip pauses.
You look up at him. He hovers over where you lay, sprawled out on the bed. He's infuriatingly, devastatingly handsome, even when traces of doubt line his features.
"What's wrong?" You ask. "Is everything okay?"
Philip's mouth opens then shuts, as if deciding on what to say. "Why me?"
"What?"
"Why me?" He repeats, in no way clarifying himself. Phillip quickly elaborates, "You said that you went to the reunion just so that you could fuck someone from high school."
You struggle to find a response. "Why not you?"
"I mean, is this--" he waves his hand as if hoping to magically conjure the words that he's searching for, "--is this just nothing? I mean, I'm fine if you want to just settle some score and use me for my body but I'd like to know so I can charge you afterward."
His tone is nonchalant, light hearted, but there's a vulnerability lurking below. 
You sit up on your elbows. It's difficult to address him like this, when his naked torso is practically staring at you in the face. It would be difficult for anyone to concentrate. But you want to be serious, truthful, because you found something in Phillip tonight that you have never found in anyone else. It was too early to call it love, of course, but there was a deeper connection that you would be foolish to so hastily get rid of. 
"I'm not saying that I wouldn't whore you out," you tell him, "but I can promise that I don't want to do this for some dumb reasoning. I mean, sure, that's why I came here tonight, but I didn't expect to meet you." This admission sounds highly cliche, and it brings a blush to your face. "What I'm trying to say is--"
Phillip interrupts you with a goofy smile. "Say no more."
There's a litany of things you never thought you would do, one of them being returning to your home town to attend your high school reunion. Next on the list: falling in love with Phillip Altman. 
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bits-and-babs · 1 year
Note
Would you possibly consider doing a sex pollen fic with Commander Mills and the ☁️ prompt 6? 💛💛💛 thank you
“𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐩𝐮𝐬𝐬𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐨 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭…”
pairing: Commander Mills x F!Reader
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Warnings: 18+. Sex-Pollen, so Dub-Con by default. Oral (f receiving), fingering, dirty talk, cumming in pants, lalala Jasmine’s a slutttt
mills masterlist | main masterlist | follower celebration | taglist
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Dread drips from your pores, manifesting in sweat. It should have been obvious not to touch the bright red petals of the flowers blooming from the bush in the forest. Red equals danger, after all- but it had been so pretty. 
Being childish, trying to bring a smile to Mills’ stern face, you’d pushed the flower into his ebony hair. He’d scowled at first, but kept it tucked behind his ear. 
The sweats had started not long after, heat blooming through your body and roasting you from the inside. Then the arousal. It crawled across your body, ripping you up internally. Fuck, you’d never been so horny, and Mills looked so fucking good— the perspiration settled in his clavicle called to you, tongue desperate for a taste. 
The aloof personality of the Commander had dropped away almost instantly, pushing you into the forest grass and undressing you with an animalistic force, seams of your cargo pants tearing. 
Tongue buried in your dripping cunt, Mills groaned loudly as he pushed his erection into the forest floor, grinding his hips for purchase. Each delighted hum from his chest vibrated against your cunt, and you came with a shriek of his name. Again. 
“Oh my god- ohmygodohmyghohhhhh-“ you ramble, falling into a pathetic wail of bliss as you push your hips up into his face, clit bumping his nose. He plunges his fingers deeper inside of you, tracing your g-spot with deft fingers. 
“Fuck,” he pants heavily, looking up at you through his lashes with those eyes, dripping like honey. His mouth is soaked, glistening in the sunshine. “Your pussy tastes so sweet…”
“Ugh-Hah-Hah- Oh fuck,” you squeal, feeling everything pull up tight. “I’m gunna fucking cum again, oh my god, ImgonnafuckingcumaGAIN-“
“C’mo-“ He cuts himself off, wrapping his lips around your cunt and swallowing you down, flicking his tongue over your clit viciously. When you cum, it rattles your bones. Rips through you like liquid heat that makes you sob loudly, body trembling with the force of your tears. 
“Hah- Oh shit-“ Mills’ shoulders stiffen beneath your palms, his hips rutting into the soil beneath him. He’s panting heavily, letting out pained groans and rambling to himself. 
“Fuck, Baby’s pussy is so wet, isn’t it? So fucking sweet and tasty. Could fucking drown in it- ohfuck,” he spit out, his hand splayed over your abdomen. “Just another taste. Just one more tas-“
You try to escape it, pulling your hips away from the overstimulation, but Mills swipes his tongue through your folds once more, body seizing up as he cums with a devastated groan, his nails digging into the flesh of your stomach. 
“Oh- Mills-“ you sob out, eyes rolling back into your skull as an orgasm rocks you again.
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daddykylokenobi · 1 year
Note
can you pls write matt the radar technician smut their simply is not enough of it in this world
Thank you so much Anon for this request! I’ve never written anything Matt before so this is a really fun change of pace from my usual characters. I hope you enjoy!!!
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Warnings: piv sex, Dom!Matt, begging, fingering, use of the petname “baby”, cussing, overall filth.
Matt the Radar Technician x Y/N
You had Had your eye on Matt for some time now, always checking him out when you’d pass in a hallway, watching him from the other side of the common room, any chance you got to melt over him you lavished in each second.
But you had only spoken a few times, always small talk about what work you each had that day, the current news or gossip around the ship, or little questions you’d sprinkle in to try and get to know him better. This specific day you two had matched eyes in the cafeteria, you were watching him as always and he had finally caught you, he’d seen you staring out of the corner of his eyes before but whenever he looked over to meet your gaze you had quickly looked away with red flushed cheeks.
This time instead of darting your eyes away as quickly as possible to evade any awkward feelings later you decided to hold your ground, you both stared forward ahead at eachother, lost in each others gaze you felt that familiar heat you’d get when watching him rise to your face. He saw the mauve shadow begin to color your cheeks and a little devilish smirk crossed his lips. Matt was feeling bold as well this day, he in a split second decision flashed a wink to your blushed face.
Panic set in as this happened, without thinking you pushed yourself away from your lunch table and headed straight for the elevator to run, hide, get away from this blaze that was growing in your core. As much as you hated to admit it you were quite shy around people you liked, especially ones like Matt. He was much taller than you and broad shouldered, his messy blonde hair and dark eyes enthralled you from the second glance and ever since you had busied yourself each night by thinking of him, thinking of what he’d look like beside you in bed, that stupid gray jumper he had to wear thrown on your floor along with Your clothes. Part of you felt guilty for touching yourself while thinking of Matt, but when it was late and you couldn’t sleep from the ache inside the only thing that seemed to satiate that desire was imagining him on top of you, burying himself as deeply as possible while you cried out his name.
Just as the doors of the elevator were about to close a large hand slipped between them causing them to slip back open, you jumped slightly as this stole you away from the impure thoughts raiding your mind. You looked up and watched the same thing you were running from step into the elevator, Matt stepped silently beside you then leaned forward to close the elevator doors.
He then stood beside you and you both watched the doors close, you swallowed hard while peeking to your left to look at him, he was already peering over at you.
“H-how’s your day going?” You nervously asked while trying to pretend that 30 seconds ago he Didn’t wink at you after catching you staring at him.
“Fine.” He answered plainly, “You?”
“Uh it’s been pretty good, boring I suppose.” You mumbled while hiding your stare to the floor.
Just as the words left your mouth the elevator stalled causing you both to stumble back, Matt grabbed your arm firmly to help you stand back up and you both started quickly looking around the elevator, the lights had begun to blink and stutter then finally shut off except for a small red emergency light in the corner that was dimly lighting the small room.
“What the hell?” He hissed under his breath, he let go of your arm then reached over to grab the com device from the elevator panel. “Hello?” He asked into the small box.
“We are currently working on the problem, the elevator should be back and running soon.” The voice on the other end was robotic and stiff, a hint of annoyance in their voice. “The rest of the elevators are down too so just give us a few minutes.” Then the voice cut off.
Matt stepped back to your side then looked at you. “Hope you didn’t have anywhere to be.” You could practically hear him roll his eyes, Matt had.. a bit of a anger issue problem, you had seen him flip out more times than you’d have cared too.
“Eh no I actually didn’t, my work was done for the day so..” Your voice was almost at a whisper, how in the galaxy could you two have gotten stuck in an elevator together just seconds after your first flirty encounter? You felt your body begin to rise in temperature and you quickly began to strip your jacket off your shoulders.
Matt eyed you up and down then asked with a smirk, “Hot?”
His question was like a stab to the stomach, his voice dripped seduction and the way his mouth curved to the side was making you feel a certain way.
“A little..” you quietly answered, you knew your face was red, you could feel the heat radiate from them even just being so close to him.
Matt turned to face you, “So.. what was that about earlier?”
“What do you mean?” Your lip shook as he asked this.
“You running off?” He scoffed with a raised eyebrow. “Just after I thought we.. had a moment.” He said while stepping towards you.
Instinctually you stepped back, 2 more and your back had hit the wall leaving you no where to go, Matt followed and put his hands on each side of the wall behind your shoulders, you were trapped.
“I-I just had to leave…” You stuttered as you looked up at him, he was easily towering over your smaller frame.
He tilted his head down to look you in the eyes, his glasses slipped down his nose giving you the first naked glance into his eyes that you’d had. You felt his hot breath wash over your face as he huffed out lightly.
“Uh huh.” He said with an uninterested tone, he brought his mouth down towards the side of your exposed neck, you shook with him being so close.. his mouth so readily available to do whatever it was he pleased…
“Matt what a-are you doing..?” You whispered as you squeezed your eyes shut trying to pull your raging emotions together.
He grabbed your chin with his thumb and pointer fingers then lifted your face upto his, you creeped your eyes open and felt your breath catch in your lungs as you were met with his face directly in front of yours.
“I thought this was what you wanted..? You’ve only been watching me for weeks now..” He had one eyebrow raised.
You felt embarrassment take over, you thought he hadn’t noticed your casual stalking but knowing now that he had…
“I-… I’m sorry I wasn’t trying to be weird I ju-“
Matt cut your defense in half as he roughly slammed his mouth to yours, he exhaled through his nose loudly while pressing his body against yours.
You were left breathless at this, his lips were warm and his mouth engulfed yours, he quickly began to lick and suck at your bottom lip, leaving no time to warm up to the sensation.
For a moment you tried fighting back, you pressed your hands to his hard chest and squirmed underneath of them before giving into the euphoric feeling his lips were giving you.
“Hmmphh..” you moaned against his mouth as he slid his tongue past your lips to taste you deeper, he was sporadically grabbing and pulling at your hips trying to feel you as closely as possible.
Without thinking you began to bring your right thigh up to curl around his leg, in one swift motion he momentarily bent down to snake his left arm underneath your leg to then pick you up and push you against the wall.
“Hey-!” You yelped.
He then dove himself into the right side of your neck where he wasted no time to start biting and sucking dark hickies into you.
“M-Matt wa-wait” you stuttered breathlessly as his lips against your neck started to soak the space between your legs.
“I know-… you want this..” He said inbetween breathy moans.
You wrapped your legs around his waist and arms around his neck, you were too embarrassed to answer his question, you just moaned into his shoulder as your reply.
“That’s what I thought..” he sighed.
He continued marking your neck up and down each side, you could feel his erection against your inner thigh and again the breath in your lungs seemed to disappear, you had fantasied about this kind of thing so many times but now that it was happening it felt unreal.
Just as you noticed his bulge he began to grind his hips forward into your core, raspy rhythmic breaths escaped his mouth with each roll of his hips.
“Oh… Matt..” you whined as his lap lined up perfectly with your wide open legs, his hard erection was grinding perfectly aligned with your own heat, it gave you Just enough friction for your walls to clench around themselves, aching for something to fill them.
“Fuck” he hissed as his tip rubbed up and down against the inside of his jumper.
You brought your hands forward to start undoing the front zipper, it trailed down his chest then followed all the way down to his hips. You pulled his jumper down off his shoulders and helped him pull his sleeves out.
He roughly grabbed onto the sides of your pants and yanked them down, you let him pull each side off until the only thing between his heat and yours were 2 thin layers of clothing.
He continued intertwining your tongues, he sucked hard on your bottom lip and you knew that in the morning it would definitely be bruised from him biting it.
You began to whine and cry out to him, “Matt please…” you pleaded with him as you looked down to his large bulge which was pressed against the outside of your underwear.
Again that mind numbing smirk crossed his lips, he brought his hand to your front and began to rub his palm up and down against your pussy. “Tell me what you want.” He demanded.
“I-I-…” your body shook at his dominant request. “I want you i-inside me Matt..” your voice was shaking just as much as your body was.
He breathed out like he had been punched in the stomach, “Fuck baby, that’s all you had to say.” He cursed as he reached down to grab your underwear and slip them down your legs which he then placed back around his waist.
You pulled his face closely to yours then started to lick and kiss at his jawline, pathetic whimpers left your lips as he rubbed his middle finger up and down your slit, you were soaking wet as he slipped his fingers inside of you.
“Ah-ahh!” You cried out as he pumped his fingers roughly in and out of your tight entrance.
After a moment he pulled them back out and brought his fingers upto his lips.
You watched in adoration as he slipped them into his mouth and licked each finger clean while keeping eye contact with you the entire time.
Your gut begged to be full of him, quickly you moved your hands down to push down his boxers and reveal his aching member. You let out a sigh of satisfaction at his size, you wrapped your hand around him and knew just from the girth alone that he was going to fill you up So good.
He hissed as your small fingers wrapped around him, he grabbed your wrist tightly then pulled it away.
“You have to ask for it.” He said while trying to catch his breath.
You stared up at his eyes with bewilderment, you didn’t expect him to be so dominant, so demanding. You also didn’t expect it to have the submissive power on you that it did.
“Please..” you whimpered. “Please Matt I Need you so bad..” you could’ve cried from the aching in your core.
As you said this he lined up his tip with your entrance then in one slow thrust he pushed himself deep inside of you hitting your back wall easily.
“Haahhh..” he moaned out, he then began to push and pull himself in and out of your seeping wet hole.
You dug your fingers into his back as he stretched your walls so perfectly, your head felt so heavy with euphoric sensations that for a second you wondered if you were going to pass out.
You muttered out little moans and whimpers against his chest as he continued abusing your small entrance.
“Ugh fuck baby, you’re taking me s-so good” Matt was leaned against your shoulder with his mouth huffing hot breath on your neck.
He took his right hand back down to your heat and started rubbing little circles onto your clit, your entire body twitched at this new addition of pleasure and you knew it wouldn’t be long before you’d crumble underneath of him.
“Matt I-I’m gonna cum” you quickly breathed out as you felt the wave rising inside of your stomach.
“Come on, beg for it” he groaned into your neck as his thrusts started to become stuttered from his own orgasm nearing close.
“P-please… please Matt I wanna cum for you s-so bad!” You yelped loudly as he let his last few thrusts become painfully rough but blissfully pleasurable.
And then as your orgasm crashed through the surface your hot walls clenched around his slick length, the pressure sent him over the edge as well and he released hot bursts of cum into your hole.
You both heaved in and out loudly as you leaned forward onto each others bodies. A few moments passed as you each caught your breath, slowly he leaned forward and placed you back on the floor. You scrambled to find your clothes and pull them back on, Matt was already zipping his jumper back up when the light in the elevator flipped back on and you both felt it begin to move again.
You flashed eachother a glance then Matt cupped your right cheek, he leaned his tall body down to meet your height then pressed a quick kiss to the top of your head, this small gesture made you melt even more than the sex just had.
You looked up at him with doe eyes and a tiny smile graced your lips.
“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this.” He confessed.
You were shocked at this, you didn’t think he liked you the way you did or for how long you had either.
“Me to..” you whispered.
He leaned down once more to deliver a kiss to your mouth, this one was longer and not just filled with lust, it was caring, and warm.
In this moment you realized that you and Matt weren’t just going to be small talk friends who flirted for fun, you were going to be something more.
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