#kept this one in the drafts for a bit but fuck it we ball

[uncanny-tranny]

I think a lot of people are frustrated sometimes when somebody expresses that therapy just "doesn't work" for them, and I used to feel that way, too, until I realized that the therapy that I was doing just wasn't right for me.

When people think therapy, I think many just assume it's all cognitive behavioural therapy and that that is the only kind of therapy out there. However, this isn't true, and CBT can absolutely be ineffective for certain situations. If you are confused by this idea, here's an example: when I was in the midst of my most recent abusive circumstance, not only was my therapy weaponized against me by my abuser, but also, the therapists I had were ill-prepared to treat ongoing abuse. They had the tools common for CBT, but there is only so much a victim can do before their circumstances are completely out of their control. In a case like this, CBT can be an unhelpful tool alone, which is why you have people who blanket statement say that all therapy is unhelpful (understandable why one would say that if they haven't had any helpful/good experiences).

It seems like people see this idea that "therapy doesn't work" as an automatic red flag, and certainly, I can imagine why one would think that. However, in a healthcare system that generally prioritizes CBT therapy as the "only therapy," it's helpful to remember that CBT isn't always the best option or the best option alone.

#mental health #mental health support #abuse #abuse tw #abuse mention tw #i just think it's best to not assume that people say this because they 'dont try' #i've had a decade's worth of CBT before i had to stop and it wasn't very helpful and i tried! #it's just that CBT doesn't 'need' to be specialized which means it tends to be cheaper than specialists #it's just really frustrating to navigate these spaces as somebody who's 'failed' CBT therapy #i think this therapy absolutely has its place and i think you can do cbt alongside specialized therapies #but i don't always think cbt alone is right for everybody - it wasn't right at all for me #and if i go to therapy again i'll probably explore alternatives or specialized therapy alongsode cbt #but that's probably if i get lucky #obligatory i am not a professional; i have just been a patient for a decade+ and speak with that experience in mind #actually the more i think about it the more fucked up it was that my abuser used therapy against me i never really thought about it as a kid #kept this one in the drafts for a bit but fuck it we ball

[brambletakato]

ok i havent drawn a lot so ill do a big artdump of some stuff i abandoned or at the very least wont finish for a long while (id in alt and story/thoughts below the image)

In a server that I'm in, we briefly talked about Descole hypothetically returning in NWOS and somebody mentioned he should bring Keats along. Inspiration struck and I drew this. I was hoping I could use Blender to make the buildings and whatnot, but I was intimidated by the task and ultimately ended up dropping the entire thing.

The building that Keats and Descole are on is… Meant to be a rough placeholder, I didn't mind redoing the entire thing but I wanted to at least have a vague idea before the entire draft slipped from my mind.

(More images in cut that are either old or kinda detached. also theres crossover stuff in there. be warned)

HAHA YOU CLICKED READ MORE NOW I CAN SHOW MY INSANITY. MWHAHAHA. MWHAHHAHAHAHAHA. ok so errm this is campaign des that i mentioned a few times and yes that is The Mario from The Paper Mario. I think about them so much and its a bit pathetic bc its like "you're overthinking a kid's mascot" ITS SO SILLY YOU DONT GET IT...

Oh right the doodle uhh so I was thinking about them and just drew a hypothetical scene for funsies, it didn't happen in roleplay (and also because I wanted to draw paper mario without a reference and see where that went). It's an ex-villain and struggling hero dynamic and i love it sm

Segments of a comic I drew for a friend in a super silly AU with dante from the limbus company hand on hip . Id get super embarrassed if i shared the details of the au because we kinda said "fuck it we ball" and made up stuff that shouldn't work at all lol. It's also why there's no text in the speech bubbles.

But the general gist of why I drew this is because we kept discussing a scenario where Descole has to fix up something in Dante's clockhead (vaguely inspired by that april fools episode) and i had a strong vision ab the comic. Also I had to make their head in blender because i was struggling with the perspective and wanted a flexible reference. First time drawing something not made out of flesh fur or fabric!! had a blast rendering the fire and the shine though. SUPER fun super recommend

I just like this little doodle,,, the expression vaguely reminds me of a ghibli villain and it scratches my brain. im expecting him to move on twos at 24 fps very subtly at any moment now.

And finally... um... yeah. "draw a character in this pose" sort of beat. sometimes I alternate using the sketchbook and marker pens in firealpaca and this is one of my rare marker doodles. Also this is pretty old afaik but i still think about it sometimes

happy sycamore sunday (even though hes not anywhere to be seen in these doodles)

#brambledrewagain #jean descole #campaign des

[wardenred]

Sapphic September 2: Holographic

From the hypothetical sequel from one of those drafts in my "to edit" pile, though I confess sometimes I think the sequel is the real story.

"A hologram," Flo spat. "I can't believe it. We tracked all the way here for a fucking hologram."

Standing sixty feet away, it was obvious. The fence that seemed so solid from where they had began their track now flickered in the foggy afternoon sunlight. The same went for the stone walls behind it. This wasn't a compound. This wasn't anyone's home. The gravel and the grass were the only real things about the vision at the top of the hill.

Flo kicked a few stones out of her way, hard.

By her side, Jules remained annoyingly unperturbed. "There must be some kind of energy source powering it," she pointed out, cocking her head to the side as she studied the holo. "Maybe if we locate it, we can use it to charge our gadgets."

Deep breath. Stop gritting your teeth. Flo forced the angry tension as far down her spine as she was able. Good, good, keep your shoulders loose. Jules meant well. Jules was the kindest person she knew. Jules wasn't doing this to test her patience.

"Maybe if we use it to charge our stuff, whoever owns it shows up and does not greet us warmly. Do you really think this thing was created as the Badland’s equivalent of a free electricity hub? It's probably a trap."

"It's really hard to trap people in a hologram."

"You know what I mean!"

Jules let out a small sigh, blew a strand of sandy blond hair out of her eyes, and looked straight at Flo. "Honey. This isn't the city. Not everything you see is out to get you."

Don't call me honey when I've forgotten how to be sweet. "Yeah. Tell that to those dustcats that chased us across the bridge."

For some reason, Jules saw this as a reason to smile. "I'm quite sure this fake house is maintained by people, not animals. And people have an important advantage: they can be reasoned with."

"Yeah, and they can also pretend to be reasonable and kind and stuff while they plot to kill you." Flo squinted at the non-compound, trying to spot any signs of life. It really fucked with her perception, the way the hologram kept flickering subtly. Over and over, she started thinking that yes, there: a hint of movement that couldn't be attributed to the wind playing with the tall grass, the beginnings of a shadow falling on the thin path. But no, each time it was merely the unsteadiness of hologram. Damn those outdated technologies.

And damn her own moodiness, too, because this was supposed to be an adventure. The first day of the rest of their new life together, away from the cities and the corporations, heroes and villains, duties and dues. Only the first day, not even past noon, and already Flo wanted to go back.

A warm, steady pressure on the back of her neck drew her out of her thoughts. Jules hummed an off-key tune, playing idly with a loose strand that had broken out of Flo's braid. Her nail grazed the unhealed cyberwar port. Flo shivered.

"We really need to find a way to charge our stuff," Jules said softly. "Especially the accumulators. It's only getting more cloudy. We can't rely on the sun too much, and we've used up so much energy while we were running from those cats."

Flo bit back a groan. "Yeah. All right, then. Let's climb the rest of the hill and yell, 'Hello!' at some crazy people who have set up an artificial mirage in the middle of nowhere. Sounds like an awesome plan."

She took a step forward, a little too sharply, shrugging Jules's touch off without meaning to. The first day of the rest of their lives, and wasn't she already fucking things up?

"Hey," Jules called after her. Flo turned her head to find her standing in the same spot, her hand still hovering in the air. She was biting her upper lip the way she always did when she was nervous. "Do you... do you regret this?"

Do you regret me?

The real question hung in the air between them, a ball of static, a bundle of shared memories. Jules had asked it before, in the same words, with the same look, the first time Flo'd had to make the very same choice. Jules or Mel. Happiness or revenge. There had been no wastelands and holograms around them that first time. Only the beige walls of a half-unpacked kitchen in their new home, the smell of Jules's cooking, the cybernetically enhanced plants glowing softly on the window sill.

Flo had known her answer then, and she knew it now.

"No. Never."

She only hoped this time she’d be able to stick to it better.

#warden's random scribbles #sapphic september 2023 #writing #my writing #writers on tumblr #original fiction #writeblr #post apocalypse #dystopia #sapphic #post-final girls

[thatblondeperson]

Do you think there should/should;ve be a story where Steph confronts Black Mask after the torture as if I recall we never really explore her feelings about that incident in particular nor see her pay him back for it?

I had this ask in my inbox for too long and I kept staring at it, wanting to answer it but idk how to fully put this into words. And then I did start to answer it and left it in my drafts. Whoops.

On one note...I think Black Mask died during the time Steph was dead? Idfk.

Yes. Yes I think we should have had more than just the one-off of her experience. If hey were gonna do that to Steph, I'd like it explored as an actual point of trauma that nearly led her to the brink of killing him.

In that way, anon, Steph ALMOST did try to get payback. I'm happy she did not, even if it came at the price of her own "death", because fundamentally Steph as a character has been shown to forgive and forgive and move on and hope and endure.

I don't want a story where she goes tracking him down to get a taste of what he did to her, or hope that he gets what's coming to him because that turns her into a character like Jason Todd which is a fundamental misunderstanding of who she is DESPITE all her tragedies. She's not a revenge seeker.

HOWEVER.

I do wish her trauma was explored more. That she opened up to Tim or Cass or perhaps even Bruce about it. There's the implication that he may have s*xually assaulted her alongside his physical assault of her. The girl went through some absolute hell and the fact that she just doesn't talk about that again, is insane. Her Batgirl arc could have been an interesting place to dig into it a bit as part of what she was learning to put behind her, since that experience was extremely traumatic. It should have been addressed more.

Look at the way this man talks to her and tell me there isn't a heavy implication of s*xual assault...

But yes anon. I think this should not have been shoved in the garage behind the broken Christmas lights. If DC decided to absolutely maul this girl to death, (and like...I'm not gonna discuss how sexually the artists drew her during this arc. 16yo torture p*rn, good job DC) they could have the decency to clean up their mess and give it an ounce of meaning for Stephanie's insecurities and her reflections on her past during her period of growth in Batgirl.

Stephanie is a character that seems to be surrounded by trauma that's either mentioned too casually or never addressed. It bothers me because, A: yeesh DC, did you hate her or something??? And B: despite the fucked up nature of her repeated destruction by DC, it's kinda detrimental to who she is as a character that she's better than how the world seems to perceive her. She's stronger than she looks, she's got a lot of fight in her, but she doesn't seek revenge with all of that bite. She's a good person, and she's been literally ripped apart and she still comes back as a bright ball of light, more keen on bringing hope to others than to become a dark, hollow shell of herself. The universe can't knock her down.

So in conclusion: Yes to exploring her feelings, no to seeking revenge.

Thank you anon 💜

#stephanie brown #spoiler #robin iv #batgirl #war games #black mask #roman sionis #personal #ask tbp

[some-messed-up-writing-for-you]

"A drunk villain topping a sober yet submissive hero?🙏"

Request #9

Warning: nsfw.

A fun little idea! This is also the last request from my old blog's inbox, which I'm glad about because my current inbox is already filling with new requests. (Keep 'em coming tho! I love your ideas!💖)

I also gotta say, I've been on fire recently! I've been writing so much I got drafts saved and ready to be posted! Hopefully, I don't jinx myself here lmao.

Anyways, enjoy! ^^

~~~~

Hero weaved through the crowd of criminals, wine glass in hand, as they kept an eye out for their target. They have been sent out on a mission by Organization. They were to find Villain, capture them, and at last bring them to justice.

The hero was currently at a ball being held by Supervillain. Their disguise consisted of state-of-the-art technology forming a hologram over their entire body, making them look like Other Villain, with whom Villain is on good terms. Combined with a voice changer, they would no doubt fool the villain and catch them off guard.

Hero's plan was pretty basic. They were going to find Villain, drag them off somewhere away from the party, pin them down, and cuff them.

"Simple, but effective." - they thought to themself. The hero's only issue now was that they still had no idea where the hell Villain was-

"Well, hello~." - a voice slurred from behind Hero, and before they could even turn around, an arm hooked around their shoulders, and Villain's ugly mug was right in their face.

Getting into character, the hero responded, "Ah, Villain! It's been a while, hasn't it?"

"Mmm, sure has. Hey, how's about we... make up for lost time, eh?" - the villain asked, leaning even closer to the disguised hero's face, running a finger down their jawline suggestively. The smell of alcohol wafting off them made Hero's eyes sting, but they played along nonetheless, "Well... I don't see why not~."

"Oh, this is perfect." - Hero thought. They have been preparing for this for weeks. They had to catch Other Villain a few weeks back, just so that they could pull this off. And out of all possible outcomes, this was the best and most convenient one.

"But perhaps let's go somewhere more... private." - the hero suggested, dragging Villain along down a nearby hallway. The other did not resist, letting 'Other Villain' pull them into a random bedroom as they drunkenly giggled to themself.

Hero locked the door behind them, and before Villain could react, they grabbed their arms and pinned them down on the side of the bed, turning off their disguise.

Villain looked surprised, then confused, and then something seemed to click in their head.

"Oh, my. Hero, if you wanted to have some fun that badly, you could have just asked~."

It was the wrong thing that clicked. Hero's face heated up at the other's words. They found themself at a loss. And in their surprise failed to realize that their hold on the villain had loosened.

Villain, drunk out of their mind, somehow noticed their slack hold, and before the hero knew it, their positions had switched. The villain was on top of them, pinning their arms above their head and grinning down at them, their bodies pressed against each other.

And as their crotches brushed, Hero's face turned beet red. They couldn't stop a shudder from running through them as the villain whispered in their ear, "So, how about it, Hero~? Wanna play~?"

The hero tried to stutter out an answer but found that they couldn't. They looked for a possible way out, and to their surprise, noticed that Villain's grip wasn't as strong as it could be. They have been pinned down by the other plenty of times in the past during their fights, so they knew that they could easily escape right now.

...

But did they want to?

Hero could feel their blood rushing down to their sex as the villain rubbed against them. They knew they shouldn't be letting this happen, but... Villain just looked so hot like this. And their touch was making the hero want more.

"F-Fine, let's play." - the villain only giggled in reply and locked their lips together, kissing hard and with need. The feeling distracting the hero's senses. They inhaled sharply as the other's grip suddenly increased. Have- Have they been pretending to be weakened?!

Hero could not escape anymore, and honestly...

...they didn't mind in the slightest.

As their kiss continued, Villain dragged the hero to the middle of the bed. Releasing their wrists, they ran their hands down Hero's chest and then began unbuttoning their shirt. In their drunken state, however, they struggled and tore the shirt open out of annoyance.

Hero whined a bit at the sight of the loose buttons flying and decided to ruin the other's shirt the same way. They went to grab the fabric and tear it off the other, only to have their hands pinned at their sides.

A "Tsk, tsk." sounded in their ear as Villain scolded them, "You don't get to touch me unless I say so." - the sudden chiding caught the hero off guard, and they couldn't stop the pit that grew in their stomach from the villain assuming control.

"Understand~?" - Villain asked, their lips brushing against the shell of Hero's ear, eliciting a small gasp from them. A wave of pleasure shot through them as the other nibbled on their earlobe.

"Y-Yes." - the hero managed to mutter out, somehow already breathless. Barely anything has happened yet, so why were they freaking out so much?! Why did- Why did it feel so... good to be below Villain like this?

Was it just the danger of letting their nemesis have control over them? The adrenaline of being at their mercy?

The excitement of being so close together?

"Good~." - the villain purred above them, running their hands across every bit of Hero's torso, dragging their nails down the other's back, arching it and making a shiver travel down their spine.

The hero had to bite back a moan as the other ground against them once more. They wanted to pull the rest of Villain's clothes off but knew that they couldn't, that they weren't allowed to.

That powerlessness only served to turn them on further. Hero clawed at the plush bedsheets below them, bunching up the fine material between their fingers. The villain chuckled at the sight, leaving a trail of kisses down the other's neck. Going down their chest, they bit the hero occasionally, bruising their flesh and making them whine needly.

Villain went even lower, tugging down the hero's pants, but only slightly, not enough to reveal their sensitive genitalia. They left even more kisses on them, licking their skin, making Hero inhale shakily and wonder what the villain's tongue would feel like just a little bit lower.

That pondering only worsened as Villain forced their legs apart and mouthed them through their pants, teasing the hero, who this time couldn't help the moan that slipped past their lips.

Hero tried to grab the other's head on instinct. They wanted to keep them there, for that sweet feeling to continue but stopped themself halfway, remembering how the villain forbade them from touching them. They grasped at the bedsheets once again, knuckles hurting from their hard grip.

"Good hero~." - Villain praised, making the hero blush even more, as they turned their head to the side, trying to hide and smush it into the pillows. Their face, however, was back on full display within seconds as the villain suddenly pulled their pants down further and took Hero into their mouth.

The hero couldn't stop the curse that left them alongside Villain's name, which they began to moan louder the more the villain licked and sucked at their privates. The feeling of the other's teeth teasingly dragging down them made Hero's back arch again, and the threat of Villain being able to bite down on them made their insides twist.

They whimpered as the villain suddenly pulled away from them, only to swallow the lump that had formed in their throat as the criminal stripped themself of their remaining clothing, revealing themself to the hero lying below them.

"Like what you see~?" - Villain asked, giggling. The alcohol in their system still making them giddy. Hero could only stare at them, impossibly red in the face as they answered, breathless, "Yes."

The villain leaned forward, once more looming over the other, and the hero whined at the sight, pleading, "V-Villain, please can I touch you? Please, I- I want to touch you, please."

"Aww, begging already?" - the villain teased, taking hold of Hero's hips and positioning themself against them. The hero went to beg more, but only a mixture of a moan and a whine left them as Villain slid into them without warning.

The villain's pace was slow and surprisingly steady, considering how drunk they were. Hero held onto the bedsheets like their life depended on it. They wanted to touch the other so, so badly.

Villain leaned down and caught their lips in a light kiss, running their hands up the hero's sides, making them squirm. A gasp left Hero as the villain hit them in the right spot. The other grinned and pushed against it, again and again, thrusting in quickly and roughly, but slowly pulling out and then repeating the cycle until the hero was begging them again.

"F-Fuck! Villain, please!" - Hero yelled across the room, their mind so clouded with lust that they have forgotten all the enemies that surrounded them, all the villains and criminals alike partying just a short distance away. So many people, which wouldn't hesitate to kill them on sight.

Villain merely grinned. They could feel their orgasm coming closer and decided that they have messed around for long enough, "Hero~..."

Said hero focused on them, as best as they could anyway, and exhaled weakly as the villain's words registered in their clouded brain.

"You may touch me~."

Hero wasted no time hooking their limbs around the other. They moaned as their lips crushed together, as Villain began to pound into them without mercy.

The feeling of their skin against each other, the sheer amount of intimacy, and physical contact quickly drove the hero over the edge. And as they yelled out the villain's name, they too felt their blissful finish wash over them.

As the two began to gasp for air, slowly coming down from their high, Villain slid off of Hero, whose eyes were closed as they tried to steady their breathing.

The hero's eyes snapped open, however, at the feeling of power suppressing cuffs locking around their wrists.

"W-Wait, what is-" - they tried but were interrupted as the door suddenly burst open, and Supervillain's henchmen flooded the room, followed by their boss.

"Are you quite done yet?" - the supervillain asked Villain, an impatient look on their face that only made the villain giggle, adding to Supervillain's annoyance.

"Yeaaah, I guess I am." - the villain responded, ignoring the shocked hero beside them as they got up from the bed and approached the supervillain.

"Unless you wanna have some fun too~?" - they asked, leaning against the other criminal, still very much but-ass naked.

Supervillain only pushed them off and growled out, "Ugh, don't touch me. You smell like heroism and righteousness. Disgusting."

"Aww, but then... don't you wanna make me smell like chaos and evilness, again~?" - Villain playfully pushed, stretching their body in a teasing manner.

The supervillain only grumbled under their breath, "Oh, you stupid fucking..." before turning to their henchmen and barking out some orders at them.

The henchmen grabbed Hero and left the room. Supervillain relocked the door behind them and proceeded to drag Villain back towards the bed.

#hero x villain #villain x hero #writing #writeblr #hero #villain #supervillain #writing prompt #prompt #request prompts #prompt request #request

[fourmarkdove]

Upstate.

Title: Upstate. | Masterlist

Summary: When the Captain learns you’ve kept a secret all these years, he’s more furious than he’s ever been.

Pairing: Syverson x Reader

Words: 5.5k

Warnings: 18+ Smut. Angst, breeding kink, daddy kink, size kink, rough sex, dirty talk. Infertility/PCOS. 

A/N: Had this in my drafts forever and sort of forgot I wrote it. Comments are welcome! Thanks for reading!

~

It wasn’t supposed to take this long to get pregnant.

It just wasn’t.

You went on the pill shortly after you met, which wasn’t the most glamorous story, but that one drunken pounding against the ladies bathroom wall just days before he was set to ship out set the tone for your relationship. At least in the beginning.

He did two more tours after that. The first time he was on leave, he dropped to a knee, all suntanned and scruffy, after dinner at your favorite little fish shop on the pier.

“We haven’t known each other so long, but your sweet voice on those phone calls, babydoll. They keep me goin’ when I feel like there’s not much reason to.”

That last time he promised, “We’re gonna settle down for good. You an’ me an’ our brood. Daddy just has some unfinished ass to kick, but don’t you worry, sweetness. Nothin’ but picket fences and backyard barbecues soon as I get back.”

You said of course you’d marry your coarse, burly soldier and there never was a happier man who swept up his girl on that pier in a yellow sundress.

You never thought you’d see the day when your hardline, take no bullshit, don’t give em’ an inch Captain would shed a tear - let alone in public - but he did just that the moment he turned his shoulder and saw you in the just barely off-white dress.

He swept his woman off your feet, saying he wanted to be a gentleman and treat you right. But you knew by the intensity of his gaze and how he barely glanced at the pretty white lingerie before he started tearing it off your body that he was going to have trouble being gentle. Not that you minded. You had no regrets when it came to this swollen beast of a man filling every hole, manipulating your body in unnatural positions because you were smaller and he was strong as a horse and built like a brick wall. He’d pin your wrists to the bed above your head and gorge on your heaving tits, or grip behind your knees and have your feet bouncing behind his thick neck, until you were a sweat slick, foul mouthed whore begging for more of his meaty shaft pounding you into a moaning, senseless mess. You thought growing up there’d be something magical and pure about being a new bride dressed in white giving yourself over, blushing and shy, to the man you promised to love forever.

The reality was so much more visceral. All you wanted for days on end was his thick body forcing your thighs open, his hands gripping your flesh, fingers leaving bruises on your hips, crushing kisses that nearly made you faint, the salty taste of his sweat and cum dripping from your lips and cunt, rolling down your thighs, smeared onto the teeth marks he left around your nipples and on your ass like a soothing balm. The only soundtrack in the house was the grunting feral sounds over you as if he willed his very being into yours through the force of each veiny thrust. And the lewd slapping of flesh against flesh, sometimes muted just a bit by the rough hair trailing down his torso leading to his monster cock. The sound of his thighs clapping against your ass and thighs as he fisted your hair and drove himself into your cervix never ever got tiresome.

When he’d get too close, he’d devour your cunt, biceps and forearms flexing and lifting you to his face, swallowing every drop of your slick mixed with his, swirling his thick tongue over your sensitive clit, feeding the mixed liquids back inside your slit. He’d drop to a knee and spread you over his shoulders if you didn’t make it to bed, or in bed, he’d trail down your body, nipping and biting, picking up your skin between his teeth, flashing those blue eyes up at you. He loved going down on his woman maybe even more than burying his throbbing cock, so he’d always glance up to see your lashes flutter, eyes roll back, lips part and scream silently as he gorged on your sex. His beard scratched between your thighs and made you that much more sensitive but fuck you loved it and he loved marking you. He’d sink his sharp canines into the crease of your thigh and bite down just hard enough to make you cry out and arch for him.

By the time you were begging to come and whimpering his name like a prayer, he’d force his heavy, uncut cock all the way inside and start grinding, flexing every muscle in his core powering the grunting snaps of his hips into yours, seeking both of your release. And his mouth would get so filthy pressed to your ear.

“Gonna fuckin’ fill you up with all this cum. Not gonna be able to walk straight for weeks. That’s right spread wider for me. Fuckin’ give me that cunt. You’re gonna take it all like a good girl aren't ya? Get you all round - knocked up with my seed over and over. All that thick cream in these balls is just for you. That’s right. You want it? Milk it, babe.”

He growled and groaned, slapping his balls against your ass, all of the things that made you gasp and close down on him. You’d come first. Always. pulling the head of his cock right up against your cervix. He’d keep thrusting through your orgasm and his followed quickly after.

His big body could crush you under his weight but you loved it, practically demanded it, so he’d half roll off, resting mostly on his side and forearm and hip, while he panted into your hair on the pillow. But you wanted him all over your skin. The musky scent of his, still rolling down his hot skin, sweaty and thick with pheromones and sex, from working so hard to get both of you off over and over, you had no way to explain how you loved it - except by licking up the side of his neck and suckle kissing behind his ear while he panted into the pillow, his bicep and forearm heavy across your chest or around your hip, still holding you possessively.

He’d chuckle, still panting and turn his head on the pillow. Voice still rough from the beating his vocal cords took while he growled, huffed, groaned and barked instructions to you, he’d whisper in those quieter moments.

“Insatiable, kitten. Gimme a minute. Daddy knows what you need.”

You’d turn over in his weighty, tree bough arms and nuzzle into his hairy chest, feeling his thumping heartbeat hard and steady under your fingers. Tree trunk legs could pull all of you into him, and he’d fold you into his center, so not a single inch of you would have to touch sticky bed sheets when he rolled over onto his back. Thick fingers spread across your back, soothing over your roughed up skin, lifting your hair off of your sweaty neck, until the cool air in the room and his perpetually hot skin balanced to the perfect temperature somewhere in the middle.

It went on like that for three, six, nine months once he was home for good. Only two things changed as the months went on. His chocolate curls grew and spilled onto his forehead - which you loved to run your hands through - and you conceded the beard stays if the curls do too.

You came off the pill immediately, from that first night he came home, and never went back to it.

“Sweetness, don’t stress about it,” he’d coo gently, finding you curled up in bed or in the bathroom, sitting alone in the empty back bedroom in the new house. He’d try to squeeze the sadness out of your body every single month with his huge bear arms.

“It’s fun to try again, ain’t it?” he’d wiggle his eyebrows, and make you giggle through the tears. The more playful he was about it, the harder he leaned into trying everything he could to make it easier on you, so that meant a lot of research on websites. He never in a million years thought he’d be reading up on ‘luteal phases’.

He never had to be told twice that you might be ovulating. You’d whisper it to him sometimes he’d sense it. In bed, he’d smell that wet heat before you even backed your ass up against him, wiggling your aching core against the base of his raging erection. Slipping his big hand down your tummy and into your panties, he’d slide a long couple fingers through your slick heat, spreading your pussy lips achingly wide before withdrawing his hand and wrapping his other arm around the front of your shoulders.

“Mmph looks like you’re ready,” he’d groan, checking the viscosity of your juices. Spreading your slick between his fingers, he’d lick at it, gripping you tighter as you’d smirk and work your hips mercilessly on his dick.

That one taste would be enough to work him into a rutting frenzy though. “Got damnit, I need a taste,” he’d growl, climbing down and burying his face between your thighs. His mouth and beard would come up glistening with your juices and he’d look positively lust drunk on the stuff. Spreading his knees, he’d hoist your thighs up onto his, spreading your knees over his hips, so he’d be able to have a perfect look at your swollen cunt.

Pupils dilated and breathing hard, he’d pinch the hood of your clit and stroke it between his finger and thumb, making you squeal and writhe, pulling your own hair. He was in awe of your pussy every time he actually looked at that tiny, suckling hole - how in the world did you manage to stretch and accept his girthy cock? It had to hurt, right? It HAD to. Gripping your hips, he pulled you up to himself, one forearm supporting under your ass, and the other around your back. Touching foreheads, he nuzzled you lovingly.

You kissed him hungrily, sinking your teeth into his bottom lip before letting go. Hair mussed and giving him the darkest look, rolling your hips in his lap, you purred deep. Much to your confusion, he was the one to slow things down, smiling in his gorgeous blue eyes, kissing over your forehead, temples, eyelashes, nose, each lip.

“I wanna give you everything, babydoll,” he sighed, dropping his head to kiss over your shoulder.

Arching your back, you had him grip onto your hands and ease you, still spread over his hairy thighs, back onto the bed.

“Put a baby in me,” you demanded. He huffed out a sharp breath, puffing out his cheeks, before plunging two thick fingers into your cunt, scissoring his fingers to stretch you out. You shrieked and moaned in pleasure, arching deeply.

He could have been gentle but those five little words; that demand of yours. You were his new CO and when he received orders, he ploughed through at a punishing pace.

“Gotta prime these walls,” he grunted, thrusting his fingers in and out, turning his hand so he could rub sloppy juices spilling out of your cunt. Leaning over, he pressed his palm against the mattress next to your head and did something near a one handed push up, coming nose to nose with you.

“Why we gotta prime walls, baby?”

You whined as he flexed and slipped a third thrusting finger into your slurping cunt, begging for something larger to grip onto.

“We prime…” you panted, clawing across the tense muscles in his chest, “because you’re gonna… paint my walls… with your seed.”

Giving you his tongue, he withdrew his fingers and smeared his fingers over his precum-leaking meaty member. Just pushing it down to the right angle and you arched, digging your toes into his tree trunk thighs as you accepted his cock into your aching insides. You cried out, tossing your head back, but that just made him latch onto your throat and thrust into your cervix like a battering ram.

You screamed his name two, maybe three times, and he bared his teeth, growling and swearing, struggling to hold on, planking on his forearms desperate not cum yet while your smaller slippery body, squirmed and writhed under him. One second you were hissing and gasping, sinking your teeth and nails into his shoulders or biceps. The next you’d sob and dig your feet in, because you were so stretched and so sensitive. If he could just hold on that second longer, you’d grab at his ass, let your thighs open up and release your massaging death grip on his cock still buried as deep as he last thrust before you clamped down on him to begin with. Then he slowed just a bit to kiss your panting mouth as the orgasmic shockwaves relaxed. Your deep purr indicated you were ready for more, so he’d catch under your knees and fold you in half, pounding your body at a different angle.

When it was time, he bore his teeth and groaned, burying his face in your neck, getting sloppy with his thrusts until the last two that were exceptionally deliberate, seeding white hot cum directly to the source, his slit ground mercilessly against your cervix, for a direct shot at emptying himself into your womb.

When all was said and done, you’d toss him a pillow and he’d kneel between your legs, pushing the pillow under you to keep your hips elevated. Hooking his arms under your thighs, he kissed all around your sensitive mound. Kissing inside your thighs, he could thumb your swollen lips apart and see how completely full he’d filled you, to the point of leaking, but neither of you minded. If it wasn’t too tender, he’d clean you up with his tongue before lying down with you again, closing your legs, and drawing both your knees up over his hip.

You assured him every time that the pain was hardly anything as you shuddered and clung onto his imposing frame. It was only the last couple of months that instead of giggling and demanding ice cream in bed after what you both agreed was the best sex anyone on the planet was having, you just wanted to be held.

“Shhh, shhh... I got you, sweetness,” he’d soothe, drawing up blankets, rubbing you all over. He’d tuck you into his chest, and you’d curl up even smaller, your soft little body trembling against his twitching muscle always felt amazing before. But not when it came with tears. You hid your face away when he asked what was wrong, but he felt the little puffs of held breath and silent tears falling into his chest hair.

Finally, finally, one night spent cradling you in his arms and kissing your tears away, he convinced you. And you didn’t just break your silence.

You shattered.

“Doc told me years ago... it isn’t... I’ll never have…babies of my own. My hormones are all wrong for it. She said shots, maybe IVF but… even conceiving… even if possible, it’d be…”

The worried lines around his eyes and across his forehead smoothed out as he stared at the blinking red light on the smoke detector above the bed. He stayed quiet, putting an arm behind his head.

“I hoped I would have found a better way to tell you all this before now.”

“You knew before we met?” His voice was uncomfortably calm. “Five years ago.”

“Yes, but I didn’t mean to—“

“Ya kept it from me. No indication whatsoever there were problems on the home front, though.”

“I hoped I wouldn’t ever have to say anything because we’d somehow be pregnant by now and—“

“Ya let me think everything was fine. Told me, “Come on home, soldier. Let’s try workin’ on that family again.’ And I did. Every tour. I came crawlin’ home to you.”

Sitting up against the headboard, he flicked on the bedside lamp and scratched his beard, eventually dropping his upturned hands on his thighs, displaying his defeat.

Even though you wore his shirt from the night before and he was naked, barely covered by the bedsheet, you felt entirely exposed. You wanted to dissolve into liquid and melt into the floor or shed your skin and slink into a nook and never come out again.

His wide eyes plead with you: ‘give me something substantial to grasp onto. Toss a rope and a damn good reason for all of the lies to a drowning man.’

There was only one reason, but you couldn’t bear saying it out loud. You couldn’t the entire time you knew him.

Slipping his hand behind your neck, he thumbed your chin up to look at him. “You thought I wouldn’t want ya if I knew, huh.”

Your bottom lip quivered but he didn’t let you collapse into yourself. Looking over your tense, teary, flushed features thoughtfully, he stayed silent. He had a way of looking still as a sheet of ice while a raging current boiled just underneath. That kind of stillness gave those under his command confidence because even amidst chaos, he made solid decisions. Ones that saved their lives, kept them out of harm's way.

In that moment, you felt no confidence. Sitting on your knees expectantly, you trembled all over. He moved his thumb down from your chin as he inhaled audibly, and furrowed his brow exhaling forcefully, wrapping his massive hand around your throat.

The moments waiting made your ears hot and the blood rush to your face. Tightness crept across your chest. You broke the silence first or you’d have lost your mind.

“You’re angry.”

He chuckled ruefully and went placid in an instant. “Angry. Mmm... Yes, that is one way to describe it, darlin’. Never more so, as a point of fact.”

Swallowing down tears, if he wouldn’t let you drop your head, at least you could close your eyes.

“No.” His calloused thumb stroked up and down the side of your neck. “No—no, you don’t get to do that. Not with me.”

“Please, Sy!” You burst, holding onto his wrist with both hands. “Please say something! I can’t take it!”

He sniffed and took his hand back, rubbing them together instead of touching you any longer. His broad shoulders lifted and dropped. “Not quite sure what to say.”

“I’m so sorry.”

He couldn’t look at you, not entirely, so he arched a brow and gave a sideways glance. His voice was rough and deep with more emotion than either of you anticipated. “I was uh… unapproachable?”

Lifting your head from your hands, it made your heart shred into a pulp seeing the lifted brows and pained expression tensing his features. “What?”

“Unapproachable,” he graveled, cursing the emotion that made him choke up. “Fuck. I know I can be direct. I been tryin’ real hard to be gentle with you. Did I give the impression you couldn’t, ya know, tell me things?”

“No, of course not, Sy. I tell you everything.”

His smoldering ember pile only needed a breath of fresh air before it came roaring to life, consuming these new logs you’d placed on top.

“Gotdamn it. You knew this was important to me. The way you carried on, let me believe we had a life together. A future. With our family. Do I even know you?”

Smoke from the fire burning inside him made your eyes sting and water.

“Please, stop it, Sy,” you pleaded, pulling away from his grasp. “Please!”

The flames of anger - or was it hate - turned his pupils dark and made him somehow appear even larger with each deep breath.

“How do I know where the lies stop and you begin?”

Embers of his rage floated in the air and easily took to you like the driest kindling. You exploded unlike you never had before. Fists balled and panting, you squared your shoulders up and shifted your weight.

“You know what? Fine. Here’s the truth: I was barely 18 when the doctor looked at me and said, ‘consider adoption’. I wasn’t even thinking about kids then, only why I had cramps every month but no period.

“We’ve tried correcting hormones for years with so little success I’ve felt like a goddamn science project while my friends moved on, grew up, got married, raised families. Do you know how devastating it is to slog through one of those baby showers? Everyone is so warm and happy, celebrating new life and how their bodies produce something amazing.

“Meanwhile, all I can think about is how if I were to conceive by some fucking miracle, the chances of miscarriage are so high, it’d make more sense to plan some kind of memorial for a child I’ll never meet instead of a cute little fucking baby shower.

“And it’s the one thing you asked of me! What kind of a woman am I that I can’t give you the one thing you wanted?! A broken one. With a broken womb. So yeah, be upset with me. Hate me, Sy. But I promise you’re never gonna catch up. I’ve got years’ worth of a head start hating myself.”

Eyes bleary and completely heartbroken now that he knew your secret, your head dropped and you held it in pain from the headache that exploded from the tension.

You didn’t wait even thirty seconds before he nudged your head back up again with his knuckle. Your chest ached so badly from barely containing the sobbing. The moment you saw his arms were already open waiting for you to fall into, you gasped and let the tears come.

You leaned in an inch and he scooped you up the rest of the way. Helping you settle into his lap, thighs spread over his, he cradled you tenderly to his bare chest, wrapping you up in his entire upper body. Burying your face into his neck, you mewled his name softly when his lips pressed behind your ear.

“Sy, I—“

“Shh shh shh…” his baritone was so deep, you could feel and hear it as he dropped his head low to speak close like it was your own secret space to be alone together. “I’m sorry, sweetness. I know, babygirl, I know. Shh shh…”

Rubbing circles over your back, he gave you time to release through deep sobs some of that suffering you’d been dragging with you.

“I’m disappointed, shh—disappointed we can’t have our own, ‘course. But I think I’m more disappointed that you been upset this whole time over somethin’ we coulda sorted out together. Years ago. Babydoll, it breaks my heart to think of you bein’ this sad. Makes it a hundred times worse if you were upset ‘bout lettin’ me down. And you usin’ that ‘hate’ word in the same breath to describe the love of my life… Geez babygirl, that tears my heart right out my chest.”

Tears streaked down your cheeks. You pressed your palms against his hard as rock chest while he encircled you in his long reach. Tears rimmed his blue eyes as you wordlessly attempted to work out if he planned to let go or hold onto you. Eventually, you collapsed into him, exhausted.

“Look at me, Sweetheart. It’s important. What? Louder. Deep breath and one more time? Oh. No, I know it’s gonna make you cry more but imma make it better, I promise. Lemme see my girl. There she is.”

You sniffled and rubbed your eyes with the back of your hand. Your lips and eyes felt swollen from crying, and your hair was a mess, but he smiled in his soft blue eyes and stroked it back.

“Kids, no kids, doesn’t matter. I wanted you. Ask Parker or any other CO I work with. That very first night I saw you I said, “Imma marry that girl,” and here we are. But since we are married, I wanna know the things goin’ on inside ya. Not just ‘how ya feelin’, are ya hungry, are ya horny’ type stuff.”

You scoffed, kissing his cheek softly. He squeezed your hips tightly, lifting you closer, up higher on his pelvis, angling slightly back onto the pillows. He didn’t want you to get the wrong idea, but your heat, wiggling in his lap, and that you were starting to let go of some things inexplicably made the blood rush to his groin. You’d feel it in a second if he didn’t adjust your seating situation and lie back with you a bit.

“You’re not ‘broken’, sweets. And I don’t ever want to hear ya talkin’ ‘bout my girl like ‘at. You’re all woman, an’ the only one for me. You locked that right down in that pretty blue dress down on the pier years ago. Was it yellow? Nah. Really? With the little red… Huh. Color blind or not, this heart ain’t even mine no more so best be lookin’ after it. Yeah, you can cry now. Come here, babygirl. Daddy’s got you.”

When most of the tears were shed, he thumbed the dimples right above your panty line, just under the back of his lifted shirt you wore. Soothed very nearly to sleep, your fingers wound their way through his hair. He sighed letting his head fall back into your hands; he always loved when you scritched him like a puppy. Wrapping both hands behind your thighs, he held you in place, pressed to him and straightened up his neck when he really enjoyed what you were doing to him.

“Right there?” you cooed softly, raking your nails through his hair, down to the nape of his neck.

“Mmph,” he grunted affirmatively, tipping his chin down. He found one button on the shirt you wore straining against the fabric, exposing your bare skin right in front of his face. So he nuzzled into it. The unexpected tickle of his beard when he kissed inside made you gasp and arch back.

“Hey!” you squeaked and a mischievous smirk flashed across his face. He looped a finger inside his red flannel, releasing the fabric right below your belly button.

His eyes flashed up at you again as he pressed his mouth to your belly, swirling his thumbs in circles over your hips when he slid them inside the oversized flannel draped loosely on your body.

You closed your eyes, curling your fingers in his hair, and listened to the sound of the deliberate, wet kisses he placed from one hip to the other.

Hugging just under the curve of your behind, he ran his scratchy beard against your sensitive skin, but you still cradled the back of his head to you just the same. Finally kissing down to the apex of your sex, using his tongue to moisten the spot first, he placed a slow, suckling kiss that made your clit pulse and hips jerk involuntary.

“Sorry,” you mewled, pawing his hair. His jaw tensed and head lifted just slightly when your body responded so abruptly.

He nuzzled your skin and arched a brow up at you. “Don't be sorry, babygirl. Are you gonna let Daddy make ya feel good?”

A darkness fell across your features hearing that particular pet name for him. You tugged the shirt together.

“I don’t think I can do this, Sy. It’d be the first time not trying for... I can’t think about the… the emptiness. Feels like I’m giving something away too soon.”

“Hmm,” he hummed thoughtfully, collecting your hand from his shoulder. “Tell me what you need and I’ll get it for you.”

“Time… I guess. And you. Fuck, Sy. I must sound crazy. The way I’m talking, it’s like somebody died.

Here I am going on when you’ve actually witnessed people die.

I don’t want to diminish what you’ve been through with my nonsense.

Of course we need to do this.

We need to do this.

I want this.

I need you.

I need us.

I need this.

Fuck me, Captain.

Fuck me senseless.”

You made quick work shrugging out of his shirt and wrapped both arms around his thick neck. Fisting the mattress, he shouldered your ribs so quickly, it knocked you right off balance and onto his arm. Gripping under one of your thighs, he used that massive upper body strength of his to lie you back gently onto the mattress, holding your whole body up with just one arm.

As he eased you down onto your back, you went quiet and he leaned on his elbow to look down over you.

You stared up at the red blinking light on the smoke detector a long time while he pressed his large forearm down against your chest, between your breasts, and spread his palm over your sternum, attempting to give you an anchor point. Your arms laid limp, one above your head, one at your side, almost like you were having a nightmare except wide awake.

He’d seen that vacant look in the eyes of fresh infantry grunts after their first real battle and brush with death. But he never thought he expected to see it stateside, in the eyes of his wife.

Doing what felt natural to do, after all he was trained for it, he dropped his voice and redirected your attention.

“Eyes on me, darlin’. I know you’re feelin’ pretty rough inside. Grief is grief however it comes. Yeah, it’ll take time. But that’s why you’ve got your Unit to fall back on. Unit of two, you an’ me. Makes us a pretty elite team. I’ll do some of the heavy lifting for ya now that I know what we’re working with. I need ya to stay with me though, yeah?”

“Unit of two. I like it. Will you ever… Oh Sy, will you ever touch me like that again?”

He frowned, wrinkles lining his forehead. “Sweets, hell nor high water gonna keep me from lovin’ on you.”

*

Three months later, you returned home from a walk with the new puppy to find Sy standing in the front lawn, one hand on his hip and the other waving at the delivery truck to keep backing up.

“More wood?” you called from across the street over the roar of the diesel truck lift dropping green treated lumber along the side of the house. While your husband signed off on the delivery, you crossed to meet him in the grass with the puppy under your arm.

Looping a sweaty arm around you, he pulled you in by the hip and kissed the crown of your head.

“Thank ya, sir. See ya’ next Saturday,” Sy smiled behind his reflective sunglasses, shaking the driver’s hand.

“Next Saturday?” you repeated, glancing over your shoulder at the new pile of lumber that had been dwindling as he completed projects. Or at least it was. “I thought the treehouse was done, my love.”

“Oh, it is. Come have a look see.” He dwarfed your hand in his, taking you to the sprawling backyard. His truck was parked at an angle on the lawn with his tools laid out in the back and sketches drawn all over sheets on the hood.

Leaning in with his hip, he showed you his drawings, motioning with his hands as to where they should be or already were in the yard.

“Swing set? Done. Slides over there? Done. High and low bars - also done. Rope bridge, climbing apparatus, bouncer thing, treehouse, done.”

Tilting your face, you bumped your head against his chest appreciatively and he smirked. “I want to build out chairs that flip down on the deck. Not sure on the height is all. I don’t suppose you have any input?”

“All the social worker has said is to plan on three siblings from upstate. Two boys and a girl, between the ages of 5 and 10. Sorry I don’t have any help as far as height goes. I think we are more than ready for the little ones next week, Sy. Why don’t you come inside and cool down with me?”

Scratching the back of his neck, he glanced over his shoulder at the freshly installed fence blocking the neighbors’ view. “Better idea, babygirl. How ‘bout we give those swings a try first. Should hold both our weight, I reckon.”

Arching a brow, you folded your arms across your chest, pretending to be annoyed. “Oh, you ‘reckon,’ hm?” you repeated, patting his sweaty chest through his tank top. “Bear, we already have a sex swing upstairs.”

“Yeahhhhh...” he drawled, giving you his most sly smirk, “but this one is outdoors.”

“Captain! I can’t believe you!” you gasped, touching your imaginary pearls before pushing off the wall of muscle your husband provided when he folded his arms across his chest, launching yourself into a dead sprint across the grass toward the swing set. “Ladies first!!”

He chuckled, and jogged behind. “’Course, babygirl.”

~

Masterlist

#fourmarkdovewrites #fourmarkdove masterlist #syverson x reader #captain syverson fic #hurt/comfort #tw: #tw: pregnancy #tw: infertility #henry cavil #henry cavill smut

[meetevieinthehallway]

hi! here’s a crappy old blurb that i had sitting in the drafts!

in which lovie is sick and stressed from uni at one in the morning and harry finds her hyperventilating.

harry was absolutely exhausted.

per usual— but there was a specific ache in his back today, one that had accompanied him from morning to night—he told his love they needed a new mattress, she told him he needed to stop laying twisted to her chest (he refuses to do so, pouting every time she suggests it)—and it’s pulsing at the top of his spine and making him wince in certain positions. 

his hair at this point was ultimately unruly and unkempt from the amount of times his fingers ran through, pulling and tugging in frustration, as if he could rip new ideas out of his scalp.

his hands were sore, too, from gentle plucks of the guitar he had toyed this afternoon, praying that the indents in his fingertips would bring about motivation, inspiration— god, that it would bring anything.

he’s desperate to get out of this block.

nevertheless, he cranked out two songs today, making him ultimately beaming and his throat a bit raw and tired.

he stumbled through the door with heavy feet and an unzipped coat, his nose pink from the cold circulating in the outside air. his beanie had been pulled down to the middle of his forehead from the time he walked from inside the studio to his awaiting driver, who he last-minute remembered possessed a peculiar hatred for artificial heating. so, correspondingly, harry’s body never warmed up in the fifteen minute drive, causing his toes to go numb and his teeth to chatter lightly. he would never ask him to crank the heat, because it’s bad enough he has to drive around a famous stranger all day— harry wasn’t gonna torture the guy with something he specifically despised. (no matter how fucking weird it was). 

his boots clunked as he passed through the doorway, wrinkling his nose up and closing the door behind him with his back. a wince, a sharp inhale, then a slow exhale, eyes closed. it was a solid minute before he cracked his eyes open— but he swore he could have fallen asleep standing. 

his love had reduced the lighting significantly, the lamps dimmed and several candles lit around the room. it was close to dark, matching the scene outside, and the warmth wrapped his body and nuzzled him. he smiled lazily, his hand carding up and taking the beanie off his hair, curls bouncing out as he shivered. she lit that vanilla candle he likes, and he can feel the sleepiness start to settle further into his veins.

“angel? where are ye, bub?” harry’s voice was a soft coo and his dimples appeared as he leaned his hand against the wall.

he kicked his shoes off, throwing his coat on a chair nearby as he hummed his way down the foyer. he craved for his girl like he craved the warmth to envelop him; he wanted her wrapped around and within his soul, caressing his skin until he was lulled to sleep. he couldn’t wait to bury his face in her neck and stay there for a while, his lips caressing her own and her skin for a time before he found the energy to carry her to bed. he always told her to stop waiting up for him, but she would kiss her teeth and roll her eyes and tell him shut up, and that was that. 

stubborn little thing she was— and he loved every ounce of it.

harry pondered what she could be doing on his search for her, thinking about how she may be sleeping with a book on her chest in the den or giggling at a sitcom in the living room; either way, she’d be cozy and wrapped in a blanket—maybe, hopefully, in his shirt, maybe even with no pants on and—

oh.

he was completely wrong.

he turned a corner with a half smile, hearing her laptop keys being softly pressed, but his face sank and his eyebrows furrowed quickly, his lips slowly pronouncing her name.

she was sat on the floor in a ball, papers scattered around her frame and closing in on her body, her face in her hands and a bun wrapped on the top of her head. she was sniffling softly and her breaths were deep— yet shaky. he could hear her mumbling to herself, yet not responding to her name.

“angel?”

she jumped, looking up at him and harry frowned at her red-rimmed eyes and red nose. the sweet thing looked so sad and worn, eyes wide and teary.

“what’s goin’ on, baby?” he padded towards her, her head shaking as she started to begin typing again. “hey hey—” he mumbled, starting to sink to the floor.

she’s continuing to type, not ignoring him as much as she’s so out of it he doesn’t know if she’s here, but he grabs at her hands to stop typing, pulling them towards him. she whines, shooing him away, and his concern deepens. “angel.” he murmurs, tilting his head, starting to pull her body towards him. she barely turns her face away from the screen, but his thumbs still move to pad away her fallen tears as she writhed to get out of his hold. “hey.” he said, “now wait just a mo’, bub—”

“jus’ let me finish—”

“it’s one in the morning.”

she’s typing again, hitting a few keys before he grabs at her hands, stronger, pulling them toward his chest. 

“why are you writing at this hour?”

she finally meets his eyes, and she’s snapped back to reality. and once she sees the concern swimming in his irises, it breaks her. she’s sobbing once more, harsher than how she has all night, whining and whimpering as she tried to get back to her laptop. he shakes his head, picking her up, placing her bum on his thigh and draping her legs across his own. she immediately falls into his chest, and she feels fragile. 

“stop.” he murmured, pinning her hands down with his own, right on her lap. his thumbs run over her wrists. “take a breath, baby— ’s not good for you. tell me what’s wrong.”

she whimpered then, taking her sleeves and wiping her face, sniffling and shaking, her breathing trembling. “’m so tired.” she cried, wiping her nose and keeping her palms to her eyes.

“you need sleep. why the fuck are you doing work this late, hm?” he’s petting at her hair. “you’re so overwhelmed—” he pauses, to press his lips to her forehead, but he inhales sharply when he felt the heat resonating from her skin. “oh, angel. we definitely need to get you to bed, you are burning up—”

“can’t!”

he flinched as she said it in frustration and sadness, in between a sob; she hastily, in a blur of quick movements, reaches and grabs her computer again, settling it on her thighs before furiously typing.

“stupid paper for my stupid professor on a topic i hate and he made it due at two a-and i just don’t feel well—”

her mumbling broke into cries but she kept going, and harry couldn’t understand how she was simultaneously describing her frustration while continuing sentences about god-knows-what-topic. she was frantic, tears still falling and if she didn’t slow down harry swore she was going to pass out.

“have you been writing this all day?” his hand rubbed at her back.

she sniffled, shaking her head. “been sick and gross all day and i completely forgot. ‘m so fucking stupid and now i jus’ wanna be done—” she gasped for air and broke completely, her voice choking on sobs. her trembling hands pressed to her eyes, cries escaping her lips and her head shaking. “it doesn’t even make sense. can’t focus. ’ve been throwin’ up all day and i jus’ wanna sleep, but—”

“woah, what?” he sputtered. “you didn’t think to call me?” he asked incredulously.

her head fell forward in time with her shoulders, the jumper on her body sliding off her collarbones. her head was absolutely throbbing, pulsing with need and making her dizzy. she looked up and her eyes closed tight, weeping more intensely. her sleeves came to her eyes slowly, pitifully, and harry realized that him scolding her was not what she needed right now. he grabbed her and pulled her back to his chest, her sobs increasing and her will to fight against him diminishing.

“okay, okay, okay.” harry mumbled as his hand came to the back of her head, his thumb stroking the base of her neck. she completely collapsed into his collarbones, her forehead heated and her eyes squeezed closed, a trembling jaw and sniffly nose pressed to him. she was a proper mess. “—hey hey.”

his love whined once, then sniffed, blinking her eyes open to view her fumbling fingers. she sighed, hiccuping, sitting up to look harry in the eyes. he frowned when he saw her flushed cheeks and watery lashes, his knuckles gently coming up to brush at her skin. she smiled sadly, her lips quivering.

“’m sorry i didn’t call.” she swiped at her eyelid, breath staggered. “didn’t wanna disturb you.” he gazed at her with sad eyes and frowned. “a-and... you— ….” she whimpered, shaking her head and gazing at him. “you just walked through the door ’nd you’re like— not even settled and—” her breath hitched and more tears leaked from the corners of her eyes, and harry cooed. her eyebrows furrowed and her soaked sleeves came to her lips, covering them and shaking her head. “’m sorry—” she whispered.

“no no no.” he murmured, brushing her loose strands of hair away. “no apologies, love, okay?”

she sniffled, leaning forward until she was in his neck again, whimpering. harry’s face sunk, his lips kissing the top of her head as he rubbed her spine.

“i hafta finish.” she whimpered, shaking her head. harry kissed her forehead and sighed, shaking his own.

“no. we are going to email your professor and if he has a problem, he can speak to me and—”

“can’t!” she cried, “no exceptions, must be turned in on time.” her voice dropped several octaves to mock her asshole of a professor, and harry shook his head.

“don’t care.”

she hiccuped, eyes sad. “h—”

“i don’t care about his stupid rules.” he gruffed. “you’re sick as hell and your health comes before anything. understand?” his voice is deep and monotonous, frustrated, but not at her. harry wasn’t going to let this teacher make his girl feel as if she must finish a stupid paper when she’s most likely got the stomach flu.

“please, angel. let me get you settled and i will email him, kay?”

she sniffled. she stared up at him with weepy eyes and saw his desperation in his irises. her head was spinning and her throat was sore, but he gazed at her like she spun the stars into their orientations. even with teary eyes, skin irritated and red, he looked at her with such care and awe. 

she looks down momentarily and suddenly realizes how bright her laptop seemed, and how the words on her page looked garbled and wrong. even if she wanted to keep going, she doesn’t think she physically could. 

she wiped her nose, eyes fluttering around his face. she nodded slowly. “okay” she murmured, shoulders deflating a bit. 

harry smiled small and placed a wet kiss to her nose, mumbling an “atta girl”. 

she stood slowly, knees cracking as harry’s jumper fell to her the middle of her thighs, the bunched up socks coating her ankles and feet falling off. she was utterly adorable to him, even with teary eyes and a sad frown. 

“c’mere, i’ll carry you to bed, angel.”

god did she love him.

he bent slowly, and she draped her weight over his spine, lazily putting her arms around his neck. harry’s hurting back was no longer important to him, because her breath was soft and hitting the back of his neck and the top of his arm, and he swears heaven has continuously blessed him. 

“thank you, harry.” she mumbles it as she slides off his back once they are next to their bed, and he presses his lips to her forehead, then her cheeks. he lays her down, pulling the covers over her, stroking her hair back from her eyelids. she catches his hand and holds it to her cheek, her eyes looking at him.

“sleep, pretty girl. i’ll be in bed soon.” 

#harry styles fluff #harry styles one shot #Harry Styles #harry styles blurb #harry styles writing #blurb #fluff #harry #harry fluff

[echo-of-sounds]

cock and ball worship

Small smut drabbles of cock and ball worship with Aizawa, Gang Orca, and Hound Dog.

Don’t like/Don’t read: ball worship (obviously), rimming, and deep throating/choking

Aizawa Shouta

Shouta’s knees settled on either side of your head, bumping his erection against your nose and chin. They spread, lowering his balls, perfectly positioning them. Hair and heat brushed your lips as you opened them. It goaded him to sink just a bit further, and you drew his left into your wet, greedy mouth, supping on his smell and taste. They shifted in their pocket with your lip’s waving.

You released with a loud slurp. Spit clung to you and him. Your tongue twirled around him before moving to his right, treating it with the same adoration: toying, pumping him between your lips and teeth, inhaling the scent, savoring the bitter flavor, indulging yourself in the feel of his hair and skin.

Then your mouth was suddenly empty. You whined and followed the sweets, but a hand pushed your chest back to the bed. He commanded in a lightly winded voice, “Open.”

You did with a smile. His glans slipped in, allowing you to drink his precum. His balls plopped on your forehead, blocking your vision as you nursed, twirling your tongue around his heated head to draft more salt.

Sho groaned his first groan. He slipped deeper, letting you delight in his taste and groans. You whimpered for more, to be loaded, stuffed, choked. Veins textured over your tongue, swabbing into the back of your mouth, trying to wedge further. His balls compressed lustfully, fully nosing you against him. Weight increased. Musk laded.

Just when the cutoff air became too much, he withdrew. Saliva and precum slopped to your face. He inched forward, not needing to tell you what to do; You lapped behind his balls, kissing and laving all along his perineum, to the ring of muscles and starting pumping him, slow and steady.

“Fuck,” he rasped, humping in sync with your hand. An exploratory lick caused a handsome groan. The low pitch told he was close.

You refocused on his balls, sucking one in by your teeth, now jerking him off hastily. Curses, degrades, and compliments flew out of his mouth about yours. You moaned and kept up with your feeding and stroking, loving the continued deepening of his sounds.

Hands fell to your hips, baring Shouta’s heft, as his own thrust into your grip. After a few more swears, his thighs went rigid, almost clamping against your temples, and he released onto your chest and stomach, grunting, cussing, violently bucking.

He moved off of you. Ragged hair stuck to his flushed cheekbones. Pink ears peeked out from under the dark strands. He scowled and raised an eyebrow, questioning your smile, “What?”

“Nothing.” You kissed his thigh and rested on it. “You’re just handsome.”

Gang Orca

“Let me do it.” You nuzzled Kugo’s thighs further apart and crawled between them. Before his nerves worked up too much or he tried to curb your enthusiasm, you hushed him, cooing, “Just let me take care of you tonight, Kugo. You deserve it.”

“You really don’t need to.”

“I want to,” you whispered against his thigh. Skin cooled your lips, ever so slightly twitching from the tender touching. You sighed, trailing your tongue along him, already worked up, “Trust me. I really, really want to.”

Kugo laid back onto the pillows and relaxed. Keeping your fingers featherlight, you cradled his fluttering, growing erection. You started with a few kisses lengthwise. Thin, smooth skin tensed under your lips. And by the time they brushed his head, he curved erect, pulsing in your soft hold.

You tilted him up and licked under his shaft. His natural salt created a fragile layer. It was lush and lovely and just as appetizing as his kisses. When it was lapped away, a heated, heavier tartness was exposed, sinking into your nose and tastebuds, practically begging to be sucked off till he laid dry.

After an adoring nip to his corona, inciting it to flare, you praised, “You taste amazing today.”

Kugo grunted, staring at the ceiling. If he could blush, you knew his face would be beet red and absolutely adorable.

You flicked his frenulum with your tongue. “How long do you think you’re gonna last?”

He opened his mouth to answer. But his words were stifled into a groan as you suckled on his glans, sipping the amassed precum out of his opening. It quickly diminished. You moved down to his balls, shamelessly sucking and biting and frisking the sleek, hairless, loose skin, prizing the feel and taste.

They rose as you pushed your tongue between them, dragging your hand up his erection, pushing, squeezing precum out, drizzling onto his stomach in beautiful, thin, pearl strings. He pulsed beneath your tongue. His thick base enlarged when you repeated the action: gripping firmly, creeping up from bottom to middle, licking along his raphe, watching how your hand milked him so perfectly.

A rumble shuddered down Kugo’s spine, acoustically stimulating you. You teased, “Do you like that?”

He nodded then inhaled sharply from your grasp turning into a vice. But it gave you another handsome groan. Keeping the tight motions up with one hand and using the other to massage his balls, you fixated on his base with your mouth, feasting on the dripping-in-salt skin.

You bit his underside. The fat vein bulged. You nipped it harder, ending in a sucking kiss to apologize. But you did it again, juggling him in your fingers, noticing how swollen they’ve become, tensing, raising closer to his body.

With a smile, you bit him one last time before his thighs went stiff, his cock dilated, and he released onto his abs, groaning and grabbing the bedsheet. You continued pumping, wanting to see all of his cum seeped out, and complimented him, “You lasted longer than I thought you would.”

“Me too,” Kugo hissed, sloppily jerking into your hand. His hips persisted in the little thrusts even when you finally let go, working through the dying aftershocks.

You patted his thigh, watching his actions. “You’re so cute.”

Hound Dog

“You know what to do.” The charge on Ryo’s voice sent you to your knees, between his legs, ready to please. He drooped flaccid, faintly twitching. You looked up. His eyes narrowed with a growl, “Start.”

You grabbed and angled him, beginning by sucking on his foreskin, stretching it in your lips. Your tongue edged in. Bitter salt laced inside, doubling when you circled his glans, mixing into acute, tangy musk. You moaned as your tongue pushed deeper and tasted greater, harsher amounts.

“Use your spit.”

Gently pulling the thin skin back to reveal the pointed-like tip of his head, you gathered saliva in your mouth, drench him in it, then recovered him, pooling the spit inside. Your tongue dipped in again, supping on the medley of bitter liquids.

His full erection caused some foreskin to retract, but you still played within it. He was thick, veiny, throbbing under your tongue and fluxing finely above, waving with your sloppy-wet movements. Spittle drooled out past your lips. Thrumming thrilled your spine.

Suddenly fingers snagged your hair, forcing and holding you down, giving no mercy. You gagged and clawed at him as he remained lodged in your throat. He gnarled, “Think you can take more?”

You gagged again, but nodded, wanting to worship him like you said you would. After a few more seconds, the grip yanked you off, granting a breath.

It didn’t last. Ryo stood and directed you, “On the bed. You know how.”

You scrambled on it, laid on your back, and hung your head off the edge. Large thighs stood on either side of your temples. Craving to be full again, your mouth opened on its own. His cock sunk into its home, grinding his balls against your lower forehead. His grunt rumbled through his entire body, straight into your mouth, “I know you can take more.”

You whined the best you could with him embedded inside your throat. Sour salt steeped into your nose and tastebuds.

“You said you wanted to worship me, so take it,” he sneered, lurching his hips. Relaxing your muscles, crushing his balls to you, he plunged past the tight barrier, pushing out a warbling gag from you. Saliva swashed out and trailed up your cheeks. A few stress-and-strain-filled tears joined it.

“Fuck. You like this, I can tell.” Ryo’s hips began humping, never leaving you empty, only moving out an inch to jerk back in, jarring your neck. Pain formed at the pressure. Wetness stuck to his balls then slapped against your forehead. You scrunched your eyes, focusing on your other overloaded sense.

Suddenly, your throat was freed, left sore, stretched. It was swiftly refilled, submerging your smell, taste, and hearing with salted bitterness, warning snarls, and hot, inflated skin.

Fingers enclosed around your throat, cutting off what little air you could get. His base inflated into a small knot-like balloon, sticking him stuck, burdening your jaw and throat more. Neither of you had a choice as cum sloshed out. You grabbed his thighs to keep him still while you gorged yourself on all the thick, pungent, acrid filth.

Ryo pulled out, dowsing your face in spittle, cum, froth, and tears. The blended liquids didn’t deter him. He kneeled and licked your cheeks. “We’re doing that again.”

“We better,” you laughed.

#aizawa shouta #aizawa x reader #gang orca #gang orca x reader #kugo sakamata #kugo x reader #hound dog #hound dog x reader #ryo inui #ryo inui x reader #bnha smut #bnha x reader #bnha

[wulfies-kpop-fanfics]

Popsicle → Nakamoto Yuta

↳  Pairing: Yuta/reader | smut

↳  Warnings: pure PWP, dirty talk, oral, face fucking

↳  Word count: 2,915

⁙ Summary: On a hot day during a vacation in Japan, Yuta becomes enamoured when he remembers that you’re one of the people that doesn’t bite their popsicles. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Want one?"

Yuta looks away from the television, noticing that you are standing above him, skin glistening with sweat and holding out an unwrapped popsicle toward him. He nods appreciatively, taking it from you and realizing it's already started to melt. 

The hot Japanese summer permeated the little Airbnb you and Yuta were staying in, the air conditioning had gone out in the night. June bugs sang through the screen in the living room, the patio door having been opened to let in what little fresh breeze there was.

"Thank you," he says, immediately biting the red tip of the popsicle off. He sighed in relief, "if only the ac didn't go out on the hottest day of the year so far," Yuta complains, watching tentatively as you plop down on the couch next to him, hoping to catch some of the cooler drafts from one of the many fans strewn about the floor. 

"I agree, but at least we have the fans." 

Yuta hummed in agreement, nearly turning his attention back to a rerun of Dragon Ball Z, but decided not to as soon as you also began to eat your icy treat. If only your vacation had gone like Yuta had planned- then he would be with his family, showing you off to them and meeting with his mother in private to get her engagement ring resized to fit your finger. However, the two of you were stuck here, basking in a heatwave where nobody was advised to go outside at all.

You were dressed in the skimpiest outfit you could muster without looking too indecent- a light neon green tank top and blue cloth mini shorts. Even if you were sweating and panting in the heat, your appearance made Yuta's stomach flip.

Yuta was happy that there were a few popsicles left in the freezer, whatever was able to stay any sort of heat was welcome, popsicles being even more so. They were sweet, cold, and cheap. It kept his mind off of you- at least that's what he told himself.

There has always been a debate on the best way to eat a popsicle- especially your favourites: rockets. You either bit down and endured each flavour until you got to your favourite or you licked and sucked on it, dying your tongue and lips fully in red before you even reached the white section.

Yuta always preferred to bite his, while your method was the exact opposite. It was almost like you were trying to torture him; utterly consumed by the television while you practically shoved the entire thing down your throat and then brought it back up with an audible pop of your lips like it was nothing. Red dripped past your lips, but you managed to swipe the juice away with your tongue before it trickled down your chin. 

The more he watched, the more his imagination warped what really was in your mouth. 

"Yuta-kun, you're staring," you still have the popsicle resting on your lips, tilting your head in curiosity at your red-haired boyfriend. His popsicle was almost half-melted now, sticky sugar and flavouring running down his hands. His eyes widen and his face goes red, quickly looking away from you. You knew how it made him weak when you used that suffix.

"Sorry," he says quickly, running his tongue along his fingers and up to the melting treat when he bites down on it again. 

"It's okay," you waive it off quickly, smiling. "I was wondering how your teeth can handle chewing on a popsicle," you say, utterly oblivious to what was going on in your boyfriend's mind - taking the entire popsicle into your mouth again, humming in contentment.

A shrug is his only response, taking in a deep breath through his nose as he bit down again, harder this time, and he wouldn't have cared if the stick snapped. He hopes with all of his might that you don't look down at his tight jean shorts- he was embarrassingly fully aware that he was already getting hard.

The room goes silent again save for the television and the white noise of the fans. Once he knows you're absorbed in the show again, Yuta goes right back to staring at you. He pulls the last piece of his popsicle off the stick and chews on it, while you're just starting the blue section of yours. You're still sucking on it lovingly, your lips dyed a deep red; as if you had just applied a fresh coat of lipstick. 

Your tongue paid attention to the underside of the popsicle first, then brought the whole thing into your mouth, cheeks sucked in for but a few seconds before you brought it back out, swallowing audibly and licking your lips with a satisfied hum.

The longer he watched, the tighter his pants felt and the tighter his pants felt, the more uncomfortable he got. It wasn't until he was practically squirming in his spot that you looked over again, concerned. 

"Is the heat getting to you, Yuta?" You ask sweetly, finishing off the last of your own popsicle, leaving the stick in your mouth for a moment before gingerly pulling it out. 

"You could say that," he said stiffly, unsure if he should just bite the bullet and tell you what he wanted.

You hummed sympathetically, standing. "Maybe you should go into the bedroom and keep the lights off. I'll bring the biggest fan in. I don't want you to get heatstroke," you don't even wait for him to nod before gently taking his popsicle stick and turning to pad into the kitchen. Yuta had to hold back a groan when he noticed the creases where your thighs met your ass were visible beneath the hem of your shorts. 

Yuta quickly stands and makes it into your shared bedroom, flicking off the lights and closing the curtains, blocking the rays of warm sunshine as best he could. He gets some relief from the heat when he lies down face first on the floor, the wood beneath him thankfully hadn't absorbed much heat. 

His situation felt much worse as he lay, his pelvis pressed right up against the floor. He would have moved to lie on his back if the floor weren't so cool. He then closed his eyes to wonder how long you were going to leave him alone before bringing in a fan from the living room. He licked his lips and thought; maybe a little relief wouldn't hurt. 

He stuttered out a sigh as he moved his hips against the floor. Even if it was the smallest amount of friction, it was better than nothing. He choked back a moan as he moved back and repeated- licking his lips. He eventually settled into a rhythm of humping the floor, the image of your popsicle disappearing into your throat replaying in his mind. Oh, how he wanted that to be him. 

He doesn't know how much time had passed, but he freezes and holds his breath when he hears the bedroom door slide open. He sits up and turns to look at you, hands in his lap to avoid the stream of light coming in that could reveal his erection.

"Feel any better?" you ask sweetly as you haul in the largest square fan, plugging it in and aiming it at Yuta. 

"A little," he says. "Thank you."

"Anything for you," you say, closing the door and turning on the fan, plopping down to sit on the floor next to him. "Ahh, that's the stuff." 

"Sure is," he says slowly, biting his lip. It's dark again, and he feels himself subconsciously palming at his pants. It's starting to hurt, and he's tempted to just blurt it out-

"Do you want to watch me eat another popsicle?" 

Your question makes Yuta's breath hitch, looking at you with wide eyes. "Wh-what?" 

You're completely serious as you look him up and down through what little light was in the room. "Do you want to watch me eat another popsicle?"

Yuta began to sputter for a moment, not sure how to react or to respond to your question. "I, uh, what am I supposed to say?" Of course, he knew what he wanted; and if he had to somehow get off through his pants while watching you, he would.

Your smile returned. "You're supposed to say yes, silly." 

Yuta took in a deep breath and pushed his bangs back, feeling the sweat on his forehead. "Then yes," 

You grinned, but you didn't stand up. "Okay. Good." You lick your lips and only got up long enough to approach Yuta, pushing back his bangs gently and leaning forward to trap him in a kiss, your hands sliding to cup his cheeks. He instantly reciprocates, catching the message to scramble backwards so that he's leaning against the side of the mattress. 

When you separate from him, he watches you with wide eyes. "(Y/N)?" He nearly squeaks out your name, breathing heavily and wincing when your hands trail down from his face to his shoulders. You first unbutton his shirt, pushing it to the side to slide your hands down his tanned flesh. You smiled innocently as your index finger gave extra time to the thin happy trail that beckoned your eyes to the hem of his boxers that peeked from his jeans.

"Yuta-kun," you reply sweetly. "You're terrible at hiding things." 

Yuta sucked in a sharp breath when you began to unlatch his belt. "Y-you knew?" 

"Of course," you're slowly pulling down his zipper now, sticking your tongue out in concentration. "You watched me eat my popsicle and only looked away when I caught you. You know," you continue with a mischievous smile, "I don't think I've seen you this hard in a while."

"No, it hurts… please hurry," he's surprised at how desperate he really is; he's usually not this wanton- or you this bold. 

"Since you asked so nicely," you smile up at him, gently tugging down his pants and boxers, enough that you could shimmy them both off his legs. As soon as his cock sprang free, Yuta sighed with relief. 

You observed him with a loving gaze; his eyes half-lidded, absently flicking away his flowing bangs, panting and whimpering ever so slightly as you brought your mouth to the tip of his cock. It was one of your favourite sights.

Yuta gripped your hair gently as your cherry red lips kissed his tip. "Like… like you did with your popsicle…"

Humming, you comply. Your lips parted to consume him entirely, and you could barely contain a smile when Yuta let out an all-out moan as he hit the back of your throat. You worked on his cock in the same way you ate your popsicle, and it made Yuta shiver. 

You brought your mouth back up, leaving him coated in saliva. He didn't have any time to recover - you went right back down, your tongue swirling around him as you went. Then you were quickly licking stripes up and down his shaft. 

"(Y/N)," his breathing was heavy and hot, more sweat permeated his forehead. His hand gripped your hair tighter, taking in the sight of you growing more dishevelled, saliva and precum rolling past your lips and down your chin.

Once you lifted your head away, you slowly slipped your tongue out of your mouth to collect the dollop of precum collecting on your face. You're still working him gently with your hand as you catch your breath.

"Don't stop," Yuta commanded darkly, and your eyes lit up. 

"There he is," you say excitedly, licking your lips and swallowing thickly. "My Yuta," you giggled as Yuta grunted and gripped your hair tighter to push you back down on him. You started once again by bringing one of his balls into your mouth, smiling in triumph as you hear his moans echoing through the room. You work your way as slowly as you can, licking a wide stripe up his shaft, stopping periodically to sloppily kiss him. When you return to deepthroating him, you don't even gag, and Yuta's cock twitches in your throat from the sight alone. 

"Fuck," he gasps, "please let me fuck your mouth," 

You look up at him as best you can from your position, taking your mouth off of him with an obscene slurp and pop. You lick your lips, tilting your head to the side. "I thought you wanted this to be like my popsicle," you said innocently, and Yuta nearly scowled at you. 

"Please," his voice was dark and raspy, but you could tell he was desperate enough to start begging. His hand let go of your hair for but a moment, running his thumb along your bottom lip. "Please let me fuck your face." 

"Hmm, I don't think I will ever be able to say no to you," you say, kissing his abdomen, watching it twitch beneath your lips. "Okay." That was when you stood, peeling off your shirt. Yuta noticed you hadn't put on a bra today, basking in your half-nakedness as you haul yourself onto the mattress, lying face-up by the edge and opening your mouth to Yuta, flicking your tongue teasingly. 

He didn't waste time pushing his garments down and stepping out of them, leaning down to kiss you before standing up straight. He grabbed his cock tightly and stroked it as he hovered it over your face. 

"Don't make me wait, Yuta-kun," you whine, pouting at him. This was his turn to grin devilishly, deciding to comply with your request. 

As soon as he re-entered your mouth, he felt like he would immediately lose control. His cock was hitting the back of your throat perfectly, and you kept your tongue moving along his shaft and just under the edge of the swollen tip of his cock. 

"Fuck, this is so good, I'm gonna cum soon," Yuta could hardly contain himself, crewing his eyes shut tightly as he felt his world fall away into a blind search for his climax. His thrusting grew more erratic, causing you to finally start gagging on him. "Oooh," he groaned, feeling your throat constrict against him. "Oh fuck," 

You breathed through your nose as best you could, trying to endure Yuta's wanton fucking. You still enjoyed the feeling of his wet cock sliding against your tongue regardless. You would really need to catch your breath after he was finished, and you would definitely need to change your underwear. 

Yuta leant forward as far as he could, careful not to bend your neck too far against the edge of the mattress. He panted, grunted and moaned, moving his hands to knead your breasts and pinch your nipples. That was when you began to emit muffled cries as you lovingly choked on his cock, the vibrations of your throat sending him flying further into a frenzy.

"Gonna cum down your throat," he groaned, pinching your nipple tightly, reaching the peak of his speed, thrusting into your throat with all of his energy. "Fuck, feels so good, take it all," 

You felt as if precum and saliva were about to start spilling from your nose, but you were still close to cumming yourself. Yuta's touch on your chest, his words and the feeling of him wantonly fucking your face more than enough to leave you writhing. 

"Ooh, I'm gonna- take it, cumming, take it all… drink it, ah, fuck!" Yuta stills and you feel his length harden even further before he begins to twitch, hot salty liquid exploding into your mouth. Yuta stayed inside your mouth for what felt like an eternity, swallowing thickly and panting sharply. Once he finally pulled out, you could barely swallow everything before you started coughing. He took a moment to slide his boxers back on, turning the square fan to blow in the direction of the mattress.

Yuta took a seat on the edge of the bed beside you, gingerly placing a hand behind your head to help guide it into his lap. You move your body to lay comfortably, panting and regaining your own breath.

"Are you okay, baby?" If you had the energy, you would giggle at how concerned he looked. He pets your hair softly, threading through the tangles. 

"Yeah," you rasp, licking your lips of anything that may have escaped. "I just didn't know you had that in you."

"Me neither," he smiled sheepishly, looking you over. His eyes widen when his hand trails down to your shorts, clearly noticing the wet spot in between your legs even if his fingers barely touched it. "Did you-" 

"I, uhm… guess I really liked it?" You blush and look away, but it doesn't take Yuta long to start laughing sweetly, bending over to shower you with quick kisses. 

"Me too," he agreed quietly, "but I should probably get you all cleaned up. Bath or shower?" He tapped your chin with his index finger so you would look back up at him. He's looking at you curiously, waiting for your answer. 

"Bath, please." 

"Bath it is." Carefully, Yuta took you into his arms and slid the door open with his foot. Immediately you both were blasted with a wave of heat and intense sunshine, groaning at the vast difference in temperature.

"Cold bath," you whine, screwing your eyes shut to try and keep the sun out. "Ahh, it's so bright!" 

Yuta chuckled, kissing your forehead. "Yes, a cold bath."

#nakomoto yuta #yuta x reader #fanfic #reader insert #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines #kpop fluff #kpop smut #nct #nct127 #nakomoto yuta x reader #nct imagines #nct scenarios

[yandere-daydreams]

Kinktober - Day Twenty-Nine

Prompt: Tutor Kink

Pairing: Bokuto/Reader & Akaashi/Reader (Haikyuu!!)

TW: Non-Con, AFAB!Reader, College AU, Non-Consensual Touching, Semi-Public Sex, Molestation, Slight Victim Blaming, and Implied Future Non-Con.

You should’ve known something was wrong as soon as you saw Akaashi.

You could believe that Bokuto needed your help. You didn’t have to believe it, honestly, because he did need your help, he needed as much as he could get. When he’d approached you after a lecture, last month’s assignment balled in his fist and a disappointed pout already painted across his expression, you’d been sure of that, and you’d liked the idea of helping one of your more enthusiastic classmates out. You should’ve hesitated when he asked you to meet him at the campus library in the middle of the night, but he was an athlete, he had a busy schedule. You should’ve been put-off by how excite he seemed, when you agreed to help him study, and you should’ve grabbed your things and gone back to your dorm the moment your eyes met Akaashi’s, tucked into a secluded booth set apart from the rest of the empty tables. Akaashi’d never failed a pop quiz, let alone an exam. Akaashi didn’t need your help, and if Bokuto had Akaashi, Bokuto shouldn’t, either.

You should’ve, but you hadn’t. Bokuto seemed harmless, and you’d been so sure Akaashi wouldn’t do anything, not in public. You’d been so, so sure.

It’s almost funny, how smart people make such stupid mistakes.

You shouldn’t have worn a skirt. You doubted a few extra buttons would’ve stopped Akaashi, but you wouldn’t have to feel fabric rustle against your skin every time his wrist arched, bunching around your waist and doing little to obscure the sight of his hand snaked down your panties, his thumb toying with your clit as two fingers eased into your cunt. You’d tried to get up when you felt him touching you, tried to leave, your reputation be damned, but Bokuto was faster than you could ever hope to be, more reflexive, stronger, and just the weight of his arm around your midriff had been enough to stop you, to keep you rooted to your seat as he nudged his latest draft in front of you and his friend leaned onto your shoulder to get a better view, Akaashi’s demeanor so stoic and so casual, you might’ve thought he was just playing with your pussy to keep his hands busy. He might’ve been, honestly. He could’ve been. You could never get a good grip on people like him, not when their passivity was as practiced as his.

“I just don’t get what I’m doing wrong.” Bokuto wasn’t any better, albeit a bit more obvious with his intentions. Even as he gestured to his paper, that perpetual whine heavy in his voice, his gaze kept drifting, wandering, falling to your heaving chest and the lip trapped between your teeth and all the signs and tells and evidence Akaashi’s work milked out of you. It was perverted. It was perverted, and it was sickening, and it was illegal, but Akaashi knew what he was doing, just when to spread his fingers, just where to rub and prod to make you want to curl into yourself and bury your face on the cluttered tabletop and scream. Bokuto’s interest was obvious, his awareness even more so, but he was more than happy to pretend it wasn’t. You could only be thankful he was so used to acting oblivious. “I mean, I’m using quotes, and I’m talking about the sonnet. That’s what they want, right?”

“Y-you’re not supposed to--” They might’ve been able to act like nothing was wrong, but it was more difficult for you. Everything made you feel breathless, from the idea of doing something so dirty in such a public place to the feeling of your own slick building up and dripping onto your thighs, pooling on the cushioned bench below you. It was humiliating. It was humiliating, and if not for Akaashi’s stare burning into the back of your neck, for the way Bokuto’s grip tightened every time you shifted, you wouldn’t be able to take it. You didn’t want to take it.

It didn’t seem like you had a choice, though.

“You have to embed,” You managed, Akaashi choosing that moment to sink the full length of his fingers into you, down to the knuckle, and making the last word coming out fractured, too cracked not to be suspicious. A student browsing a nearby shelf glanced towards you, absentmindedly, and you glared at the paper in front of you, doing your best not to go any tenser than you already had. “It’s not enough to have evidence, you have to… you have to work it in smoothly, and--” Another finger, Akaashi barely teasing your slit before sliding it in, taking a second or two to scissor you apart properly before returning to his constant, unbearable pace. “And-- and it’s proof, you have to prove that your interpretation is--”

“It’s an argument, Bokuto-san. You’re arguing your case, and you’re supposed to use words and phrases to do that.” You could feel Akaashi’s lips moving against your shoulder, his weight settling into your back. Briefly, his gaze drifted away from you, and towards Bokuto’s essay. “Specific words and phrases, when you’re discussing tone. Quoting an entire stanza is usually considered bad form.”

Bokuto said something about that. You think he said something about that, at least, because you stopped paying attention as soon as Akaashi’s free hand fell to your side, his face finding the crook of your neck as he started fucking into you in earnest. You wanted to do something. You wanted to stop him, but your complaints and rejections and all of it got caught in your throat as you lurched forward, Bokuto catching you with an airy laugh. He almost sounded surprised, but every trace of shock was gone by the time he opened his mouth. “He’s good with his hands, huh?” He asked, acknowledging your violation but not straying from his unaffected tone, never straying from it, even as he held you to his chest, encouraging you to hide your face in his hoodie while Akaashi pinned down your bucking hips and twisted, hitting every sensitive, neglected spot inside of you in one seamless motion. You tried to whimper, but Bokuto only chuckled, hushing you as he carded his fingers through your hair. “He’s almost done, baby, just let ‘kaashi have his fun. He‘s been dying to do this ever since he found out how pretty my new tutor was.”

Holding onto Bokuto wasn’t a choice, at that point. You clung to him, digging your nails into his biceps as Akaashi’s palm ground against your clit and your whole body seemed to burn. You almost moaned, you almost sobbed, but Bokuto was fast, he was so fast. His palm was over your mouth by the time you could think about opening it, muffing any sound you might’ve bad as you clenched around his best friend’s fingers, Akaashi suddenly feeling generous enough to carry you through your orgasm, only stopping when the first pangs of over-stimulation made your eyes water and your legs twitch. Even then, you didn’t try to get away from Bokuto. You couldn’t have, even if you did.

His grip was iron-clad, and he didn’t seem to have any intention of letting go.

“Look at that, Keiji, you made ‘em cry.” The comment earned a polite nod, a small ‘sorry’ as Akaashi pulled away, but there was little remorse in either of their voices. If anything, Bokuto sounded just as happy as ever - happier, even, with all the childish joviality you’d grown used to and something else mixed in, an eagerness, an impatience. One that only seemed to grow more expectant, as he went on. “I’m not mad, but…”

There was a pause, a smile, a kiss pushed into the top of your head. For the first time, you wondered why you ever thought Bokuto was so harmless.

“You interrupted our study date. We should go over the material more thoroughly back at our apartment.”

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere prompts #yandere imagines #yandere oneshot #yandere drabble #yandere scenario #yandere kinktober #kinktober #kinktober 2020 #haikyuu!! #haikyu #haikyuu #haikyu!! #haikyuu imagines #haikyu imagines #haikyuu x reader #yandere haikyuu #yandere haikyu #akaashi x y/n #akaashi x reader #yandere akaashi #yandere bokuto #bokuto x reader #bokuto kotaro x reader #yandere fantasy #yandere fanfiction #yanderecore #yancore

[marichat-verse]

Mist Memories

Leo Valdez x reader for his birthday ahhhh (even though it's angsty) with a platonic/developing jason x reader cameo at the end (lmao im sorry i couldn't help myself 😭)

Based on this picture I found in pinterest + also [kinda] based on traitor by olivia rodrigo and omg i really recommend u guys listen to this edit because it reminds me so much of this fic that's been stuck in my head for MONTHS also kind of a run away with me prologue lol

Your POV

I nervously made my way across the forest until I reached a limestone cliff. I knocked on the iron door, not really expecting to get an answer.

My boyfriend has been shutting himself in Bunker 9 for the past few weeks. I stood there counting up to seven before knocking again. I knocked again two more times, until he answered in the middle of my last knock.

He removed his goggles and winced as sunlight hit his eyes. He'd grown thinner and paler, making the dark circles in his eyes more pronounced.

"Oh, Leo..." I reached out to brush a few strands of hair away from his face, but he moved away.

"What are you doing here?" He said in a monotone voice.

I moved to walk inside the Bunker, brushing off his hesitation to let me in. "I'm your partner, remember? And I'm really concerned because you're shutting yourself out lately. You know everyone's starting to worry about you. Percy asked me to check on you because you missed pegasus riding with him. Oh, and I'm pretty sure Jason's coming back from Camp Jupiter soon. I was hoping you and Annabeth could be with Piper while Percy and I hung out with Jason because it's been a little awkward since their breakup. Plus Piper wanted to tell you something—"

"Please," he said forcefully causing me to stop and look at him. "Just... Get out."

Normally, he'd shut himself from the world for a few days to work on an important project or because he was feeling really sad and he needed space. But this was getting out of hand. He had never locked me out of his life when I offered to help him. He was never this mean when he asked for space. I was not having this attitude of his.

"Okay, Leo. I tried to play nice. What is so important that you blow off all your friends for nearly a month that you can't even tell your partner, or maybe say hi to your best friend who's coming back from the other side of the country?"

He didn't say anything. He pursed his lips and avoided eye contact. I scanned he room for any signs.

It was messier than usual with all the crumpled paper scattered on the floor, especially on his desk. He could have been drawing up new plans. Something in my gut told me that something wasn't right. There were no new unfinished projects, indicating that he wasn't starting a new invention. Harley's helicopter lay on his bench in the same state it was weeks ago. Huh, not even his siblings could enter the Bunker.

I turned and Leo was already changing Festus' oil. I took this moment of distraction to pick up a few pieces of crumpled paper on the floor and on his desk. I had to process the words a bit longer—too long that Leo took notice. Damn dyslexia.

I heard footsteps speed up behind me, but it was too late. I read enough and got the gist of what he had been trying to do these past few weeks.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" He yelled at me. Small embers started to erupt between his curls.

I laughed dryly. "So this is what you've been up to?"

His fists tightened, further crumpling the paper in his hands. His eyes flashed with anger, despair and confusion.

I sighed and focused my eyes on his desk, not daring to look at him any longer. Under some pieces of paper were old photographs of him and Piper from Wilderness School. Yup, those definitely were the mist memories she had with Jason. I read the latest draft he'd been writing:

Dear Piper,

Remember the mist memories from boarding school with Jason? They were real, but they were with me.

I miss you. I miss when it was just us. I miss the night on the roof.

Yours truly,

Leo Valdez

I tried to keep my voice from cracking. "How long?"

I heard him sigh. "Three weeks."

I balled my fists. Tears started to fall and smudge the ink. I wiped them away as fast as they came.

"How?"

"In a dream," his tone softened now. "Hera came to me in a dream and told me to check an old drawer in Bunker 9. I found the photos and the memories came rushing back."

"How long were you dating back then?"

"Two weeks."

"Were you ever going to tell me?"

Silence; then a deep breath.

"No."

I shook my head in disbelief. "Why?"

"Because I knew you'd get upset like—"

"I meant why would you throw away months of our relationship for a couple of weeks of your relationship with her? And without even bothering to tell me? Gods damn it, Leo. We've been together since you've first arrived at camp. And what about those promises you made when we were sailing to Greece? You've been keeping these feelings away from me and you've been lying to me, making me believe that there's still something between us and—"

"Oh, calm down," he said with an annoyed expression and tone, which only infuriated me more, "it's not like I did anything were her yet! I didn't kiss her or tell her how I truly felt for her! She just got out of a relationship with Jason around the same time I had that dream. I had to figure out how to talk to her about it. I've been alone in this Bunker for three. Fucking. Weeks. I didn't cheat on you."

"Oh, and that makes everything better?" I countered. "Being in a relationship isn't about not cheating, Leo. It's about being honest and communicating with each other."

"Oh, like you've been communicating with me? After the war, you take go back to Manhattan for school, and you take a job. I haven't seen you much during the holidays because work has been keeping you in the city. And you won't tell me what you even do for a living!"

I took in a deep breath. "I told you I needed to have a life outside of camp! I needed to know first that I could handle myself in the mortal world as a normal human being. I needed this demigod part of my life to be separate as much as possible! I've been in two wars, Leo. I needed time to myself, too. And I was about to tell you guys in a few more days. But I guess now, I'm glad I've kept you out of that part of my life. At least I have an escape from all of this. And now, especially from you."

I took another deep breath and walked to the door, about to let myself out. I turned back again, both our tear-stained eyes meeting each other.

"If it makes you feel any better," I said softly, "I would've hated the idea of us breaking up. But if you really love her, if you really feel like you have this special connection to her and she makes you happy, then I won't get in your way. You could at least have had the decency to talk to me so we could have left on a good note."

He looked at me with wide eyes, clearly regretting his actions. I sighed and looked around the Bunker, possibly for the last time. Lots of memories were definitely created in this room; all just as grand and meaningful as the inventions they made here. But just like some of Hephaestus' contraptions, some of them were flawed and dumped in his scrapyard, no matter how much potential it could have had.

"Goodbye, Leo."

I sat on a rock on the beach that gave me a beautiful view of Long Island Sound. To my left, the sun started to set, casting an orange filter on everything. My heart broke, remembering how everything glowed orange in the Bunker. Leo always left the fires burning when he was working. The sunlight twinkling against the sea reminded me of how small bits of flame peaked through his hair earlier. I remembered how mad he was at me. Or maybe he was mostly mad at himself.

"Hey."

I jumped when someone sat—or rather, landed—beside me. I turned and smiled, seeing one of my good friends back at camp.

"Hey, you're back," I said weakly. "How long have you been here?"

He smiled at me, although he could maybe sense that something was wrong. "Half an hour, maybe? I saw Annabeth making plans to expand camp to have a city. She made me do an aerial inspection and I told her I'll get back to her tonight. That's when I saw you."

"Mhmm," I mumbled, not really knowing what to say. It was silent for a few minutes before I spoke up again, knowing he was just waiting for me to open up.

"I broke up with Leo."

His head quickly turned to me. I guess he wasn't expecting it to be that bad. "What?"

"Oh yeah," I laughed dryly. "Turns out the mist memories Piper had in Wilderness School with you? They were real. But not with you."

His eyes widened. "Oh... With Leo."

"He locked himself in the Bunker for weeks trying to write a letter. It was heartbreaking. Like, truly heartbreaking. He wanted to tell her how much he missed her and how much he missed them. Then he said how much he missed that night with her under the stars and... It hurt. Like hell."

"Oh," he said. "I guess Piper didn't tell me everything then."

"She knew all along?"

He shook his head. "Maybe not everything, but she told me she's been confused about her feelings lately and she'd been having visions or dreams of possible old memories that were messing with her head."

"I'm sorry about you and Piper," I said.

"Don't be," he said. "I understand her. It did hurt, though. But I think I can get over it some day. We're still awkward around each other, but at least we left on a good note."

I scoffed. "Leo couldn't even give me a good ending to our relationship."

"Hey," he said as he put a hand on my shoulder. "You're a great person, y/n. You've done so much, especially for him. It's his loss that he was stupid enough to let go of you."

"I know that."

"Do you really?"

"I do!" I said. "I'm a great person and I know that. But that doesn't mean what he did doesn't hurt me."

"I know," he said. "You'll find someone who'll treat you like the queen that you are. You're a great person, and I'm not just saying this to cheer you up. I truly think you're amazing."

I smiled at him. "Thanks, Jason. And you'll find someone great, too. Maybe not as great as me but, then again, who is?"

We both let out a laugh. The conch sounded in the distance, signaling dinner. I moved to stand up before hearing Jason speak up again.

"Hey, do you maybe want to just grab a couple of plates and eat out here?"

I smiled. "Yeah. That sounds good. I don't really want everyone else hounding me about the breakup right now."

I don't know how long it was going to take me to get over Leo. We really did gave something special. It was cruel how the universe gave me something so good, to make me have hope that something was finally going right, then have it yanked away from my arms just as suddenly as it came.

He never cheated on me, but that didn't mean he didn't betray every promise we made to each other. I should have known it was too good to be true. Life has always played cruel jokes on me.

Then again, who's to say that things won't turn out for the better, right?

•••

Tagging: @drvrslcense @bubblybubbubs @dreamerball @quteez @aesthetxcimagines @chasingpj @beingleft @wadewilsonsgreatestfriend

#heroes of olympus #percy jackson and the olympians #trials of apollo #hoo #toa #pjo #x reader #jason grace x reader #demigod x reader #percy jackson x reader #leo valdez x reader #piper mclean x reader #annabeth chase x reader #frank zhang x reader #hazel levesque x reader #nico di angelo x reader #hoo preferences #pjo preferences #toa preferences #rick riordan #riordanverse #leo x reader #leo valdez #leo valdez x y/n #leo valdez imagines #leo valdez imagine #leo valdez preferences #angst #jason grace #jason x reader

[13atoms]

Deep Focus: Chapter 1 [Tom Hiddleston x Reader]

Summary: Tom’s a successful porn director with a romantic streak which proves very popular with his female audience. His resident porn actress and business partner has been with him through thick and thin, the two of them growing completely inseparable, even as her own career starts taking off.

But working in such close proximity is intense, and burgeoning feelings threaten to complicate their professional relationship.

Mature, smut, porn director!AU, ethical porn production discussion, porn-star-and-coworker!reader. Friends to lovers, slow-ish burn. [7.7k]

________________________________________________________

There was such a style to everything Tom wrote, everything he directed. A sincere passion that you suspected was always meant to be used elsewhere. You wondered if his craftsmanship was ever appreciated, on the other side of the screen, as strangers got hot and bothered watching each meticulously designed frame of his vision come to life.

Sure, it was porn. But Tom directed it like he could win an Oscar for ‘hot lifeguard pounded poolside’. This was his livelihood, his passion, and it was a damn shame he wasn’t award-season eligible.

The names would make you wince, as you saw them uploaded to the site, thumbnails and previews drawing in viewers by the million with their shots of heaving bodies and glistening sweat. Tom never called the videos such crass things. Not in his scripts. You would get copies titled ‘Romantic Night In’ or ‘Office Love Affair.’ He was a fan of sugar-coating what would be inside those innocuous white pages, a veneer of respectability which Tom insisted upon, regardless of how obvious the true nature of the videos was. But once the videos were sold, it was out of his hands. Your face contorted mid-faux-orgasm would be plastered across the site, and everyone involved would try and forget what happened.

Ignore the comments.

Keep moving.

You often wondered how Tom wound up in this place, with his sharply tailored suits and polished shoes, eloquent and educated, his words almost poetic as he directed mid-budget porn in hotel rooms and his studio day-in, day-out.

Then again, he never seemed particularly bothered by it. He gave each shoot his full attention, his full boundless enthusiasm and all the professionalism he could muster. You wondered how he balanced it, sometimes, the creative drive to press on with trying to be creative and shoehorn romance into films knowing that, ultimately, it was porn.

He had interviewed you like a real director might, talking about your life and experience and ambitions, almost apologetic when he had finally choked out ‘could you undress’, barely glancing at your naked form before he hired you as his first employee.

You asked him early on, while watching him try and assemble a fake restaurant-date set in the studio, complete with faux windows and an extra playing a waiter, why he bothered when three-minutes of good quality fucking footage would make him the same amount of money. He’d given you a strange smile, the wrinkles beginning to appear at the corners of his eyes, and shrugged.

“I make what I’d like to see.”

The words haunted you later, as your rather attractive co-star bent you over the white-cloth covered dining table and you allowed mewls and groans to escape your mouth without a second thought. Trying to avoid the muted blue of Tom’s eyes behind the cameraman.

Despite your reservations when you first started to work for him, Tom had won you over. His gentler, more romantic approach to pornography had a loyal following. Both of your pseudonyms garnered huge numbers of views across various platforms, and Tom was keen to cultivate a collection of female-friendly porn. Against all the odds, it was working.

And you loved working with him. He was a great director, and inspired writer, and a genuinely brilliant boss. He made sure you saw royalties, good pay, that everyone you worked with was screened and tested, always keeping you safe. Always.

Each time he called a wrap, passing you a robe and offering a meek congratulations on your performance, you found yourself more and more pleased you had wound up working with him.

“You really do have a talent,” he’d told you one day, distracting you as you discussed a new script in his office.

You were sat opposite him, Tom’s glasses perched on his head as he watched you read, your feet resting against the leg of his desk. You’d come in to your shared workspace to try some costumes out, to discuss new scenes, still recovering from a thoroughly exhausting shoot the day before. There were still light bruises around your wrists, and you caught Tom glancing at them worriedly each time your long-sleeved shirt slipped.

“I love that you’re such an actor,” he continued, hands tapping the desk as he spoke, “like, a real actor.”

Your eyes drifted across the script, scanning it with your bottom lip between your teeth. He always appreciated your input, wanting the ‘female fantasy’ in a lot of his work, and he’d timidly shown you some ‘student-professor’ script he’d been working on. He was like that, embarrassed in a way which you wouldn’t expect from a man with his considerable experience in adult entertainment. He was assertive, certain, even stern where it counted. But with just the two of you together, dancing around what was sexy and what wasn’t, he seemed desperate to avoid saying anything you might perceive as too ‘crude’.

“What do you mean?” you’d chuckled, still flicking through the first draft.

He only entrusted you with such early versions of his work – but that made sense. Your careers were symbiotic, tied to one another with an unspoken pact. He directed everything you were in, and you were in everything he directed.

It made sense.

“You don’t just… I don’t know. You never make my scripts seem silly. Or cheesy. You… you really try and make them feel real. I could write anything, and you’ll deliver the lines well. I was overseeing auditions earlier and... I just kept thinking none of them were you. I think you might be the best in the business.”

You rolled your eyes, offering him a disbelieving smirk, and he scoffed.

“I’m serious! I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

The weight of his words settled heavy in your chest, and you turned back to the script, frowning as you flicked through the loose-leaf pages. Tom fidgeted behind his desk, unhappy with losing your attention, but you ignored him.

“Here. If you want the fantasy to be believable, I think he needs to lock the office door. Make a show of it, you know. Cover my mouth,” you comment dismissively. Tom already has as pen in his hand, making notes. “It could be hot, maybe ‘Don’t make a sound or you can’t cum’, something like that. As if there’s other students in the corridor outside.”

Nodding, Tom dutifully wrote down your words, mouth slightly open in realisation as he listened.

“Don’t make a sound…” Tom repeated, and you felt yourself blush.

“Not… not that exactly,” you backtracked, “you’re the real writer! I just think, there needs to be some build up. A remind of the power dynamic. Him going straight to oral is a bit… fast. That could happen in any old plot, you know?”

You felt his eyes on you, looking up from the paper to spot Tom leaning back in his chair, a distant smile on his face.

“You really are the best,” he praised, “that’s great. I’ll do rewrites tonight.”

For a moment, you let his words hang heavy in the air. Then you blinked back at him, a slight frown pinching your forehead at his strange mood. He was calm, for once. Tom was usually a ball of enthusiasm, and you wondered if your dismissal of his words earlier had done something to hamper his spirit.

“It’s always easier to critique,” you dismissed, “I love the script, it’s great. I really think it’ll be good. Hot. Maybe I can wear a Britneyschool girl costume, or something?”

He frowned a little, pinching the bridge of his nose at the thought.

“No, weird. We’re going for University student, just… a nice pair of jeans or something.”

“Don’t they wear suits where you went, posh boy?” you teased, loving how it riled him up. “I’ll try and dress like a smart person.”

“You are smart, don’t give me that.”

You rolled your eyes, loving how you managed to fluster him, putting the script back on his cluttered desk as you reached for your bag. This was how your meetings always went, a few hours of notes, some teasing, and a hasty retreat once Tom told you the next shoot day you had to attend. You still had a few hours of social media to do for the last video you’d shot together, notes from Tom, and you lamented the sight of the sun setting outside of your shared office. You’d hoped for at least a bit of natural light today.

“I’m serious, you are!” Tom asserted, and you ignored him purposely as you shut down your laptop, preparing to take it home.

“Yeah, I know, whatever. Don’t work too late!”

“Rich coming from you,” he sighed, “it really doesn’t matter if we send that last edit late.”

“It matters to me! I’d quite like to get paid this week, you know?”

Tom sighed. The two of you tried to produce a couple of videos a week – one for Tom’s site and another to sell to a third party. It didn’t leave either of you with much free time, both of you left in the tiny office at all hours as you worked to keep up with demand.

“Very true. But I’d rather you got some sleep, you know I can help if you’re short on money,” he offered, shuffling papers on his own desk.

He was always quick to jump to an offer to help, and you tried to ignore the fondness spreading through your chest at his eagerness to look out for you. That gentle protectiveness which coursed through Tom was enough to make you melt.

He was one in a million, that was for sure.

“I’m fine, Tom. Thank you though, I’ll ask, if, y’know –”

“Do! Any time. Actually…”

Tom cut himself off, typing something into his phone, and your pocket buzzed with a notification.

“Get yourself a nice dinner.”

You checked your phone to see a transfer from Tom. It wasn’t a crazy amount, but too much for just dinner, and you huffed performatively as he grinned at you.

“No! Don’t be ridiculous –”

He barely made more than you, and you were certainly doing perfectly comfortably.

“Royalties are really good this month. That old break-up sex video is trending again, apparently.”

You smothered a smile. It was hate-fucking, as you’d told Tom a hundred times. That was the title. You could still remember the look on his face the day you’d filmed it, his twitchiness, the unknown male actor who had slightly scared both of you with his sheer size as he stepped into the studio. The male star had fucked you like you’d broken his heart, hands on your neck and hips bruising yours as he pounded into you, and you’d be a little alarmed at how little you had needed to act in his domineering presence. He’d been muscular and tall and assertive, almost injuring you with his enthusiasm, and the shoot had ended with you a sweaty mess, struggling to walk, eyes watery.

You had ached from the moment Tom helped you up from the bed, a protective body between you and your costar as you watched the man collect his clothes and his paycheck. The footage had been great, you’d watched Tom edit it, but it had been your first taste of Tom’s protectiveness. The actor had never returned, and Tom had bought a hot water bottle for the office, pressing it into your lap as he brought tea for the pair of you, loathing how you winced as you moved.

He’d taken you out for dinner that night to celebrate a good edit, but you knew the real reason. That neither of you wanted the other to be alone. It had been a lovely evening, a restaurant then a bar, without a break in laughing conversation the entire night. It hadn’t been a date, but if it had been a date, it would’ve been the nicest date you’d ever been on. In those moments, you wondered if Tom was really cut out for the industry. If you were.

As much as Tom hated the film, it was hot. It had propelled your studio into the spotlight, and it paid a significant chunk of your rent.

“Thank you,” you smiled to him, wracking your mind for anything else that needed discussing before you headed home.

Maybe you’d get takeaway. That would be nice.

Tom cleared his throat.

“What are we shooting tomorrow, by the way?”

You looked up at his words, frowning a little at the realisation you hadn’t been given a script yet. It was unlike him, to be so unprepared. Usually everything was organised weeks in advance. With a glance at the shadows under his eyes, you decided not to tease him about it.

“We’re shooting tomorrow?”

“This week… we’ve only got one video. I was just thinking something simple, I haven’t called a costar yet, but we don’t have to if you don’t want to –”

It was your paycheck on the line as much as Tom’s, and you wondered how the hell you’d forgotten.

“Do we have a camera crew?” you frowned.

“No, not yet. I can call though. Or I could just do it myself, if we’re not doing anything too complicated?”

You thought for a moment, leaning against the open doorframe as Tom started to pack up his own desk, nimble fingers tapping across his keyboard.

“Solo?” you suggested, stifling a laugh as Tom blinked and tilted his head to face you.

“I missed that, love?”

“Solo. Like ‘hot female solo’ or something?”

He smiled slightly, closing his laptop lid.

“That’ll do well, I’m sure. Do we need anything costume-wise? Props?”

Toys. He meant toys. You smiled at his refusal to call a spade a damn spade.

“I’m sure we can find everything here. It’ll be nice to do a simple shoot for a change,” you enthused, holding the door for Tom as he moved to turn off the lights, lingering nearby as he locked up the office.

“Yeah. Single-shot, no camera-man either.”

“Cheap,” you sighed, as though it was the sexiest thing in the world.

You did the books, and avoiding having any more costs this month sounded great.

“Yeah,” Tom smiled, falling into step beside you as the two of you left the warehouse studio.

He looked ready to say something else, but changed his mind. For a second the two you stood by the exit, words trapped beneath your closed lips as the early evening air enveloped you.

“Do you need a lift home?” Tom finally offered.

“No. No, I’m good. Thank you.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah, yeah. Usual time. Twelve?”

“Perfect.”

He reached an arm out, ready for you to walk into his embrace, and you froze. The moment was over as soon as it started, his arm retracted, and you could only stare. His hand found the curls at the back of his head, scratching there, a blush dusting his cheeks in the harsh fluorescent lights of the car park. You could kick yourself as you watched the bob of his Adam’s apple, the clench of his jaw. He felt awkward. You contemplated hugging him, but the moment had passed. Instead you rocked on your heels for a second, before turning to leave.

“Bye, Tom!”

“‘Night! Look after yourself, don’t forget dinner. I’ll see you – ”

He cut himself off as you walked too far away, and you could have kicked yourself for the sadness in his final syllable. You sighed as your feet fell against the pavement, your whole walk home haunted by the awkward shuffle of Tom’s hands as he went to hug you goodbye.

*

You were surprised by how difficult it was to brush off that awkward memory. As you ordered and ate dinner, you were reminded of Tom with every bite, that he’d snuck aside part of the company’s petty cash budget to give you dinner. That both of you had gone home, separately, to separate empty houses and empty beds.

Had he wanted to go for drinks? Wanted company? You had come to accept a long time ago that the man was your closest friend. He would be the person you called in an emergency, a shoulder to cry on. You liked to think he’d lean on you the same way.

Despite that, you spent limited time together outside of a professional context. You never met up on weekends, or casually called. Of course you didn’t. He made a career out of seeing you naked, watching you fake orgasms for other men. As you readied yourself for the day, you reminded yourself that of course, he would be nice to his only full-time, very lucrative actress. To his business partner.

As you’d queued up the company’s social media posts the night before, you could only think of Tom behind the camera, orchestrating each photo and clip you uploaded.

You couldn’t help the grin which split your face as you walked into the studio, bag flung over your shoulder, overpacked with everything you thought you could possibly need. Tom greeted you, emerging from his office with a smile.

Before you could overthink it, you walked into his arms, giving him very little choice in the matter as you greeted him with a hug. In his surprise you felt his body stiffen, his arms slowly wrapping around you, and you were momentarily gobsmacked by the muscular form he seemed to hide behind those suits.

He was a little more dressed down today, smart black jeans and a button-up white shirt, unruly hair sticking up like it did when he forgot to brush it. He looked better than yesterday, like he’d had a good night’s sleep.

“Good morning,” he chuckled, bemusement clear in his voice.

You pulled back from the hug, a little embarrassed at the affection until you saw the smile stretching across his face, reaching his eyes. Suddenly the previous night, worrying you had inadvertently rejected him, seemed to be erased.

“Morning! What have you got for me?”

The studio space was cleaned, but empty. The camera stood in the corner as Tom lead you further into the room, his office door open to the side of it, and you frowned at the emptiness of the space.

There were tape marks on the floor where sets were usually assembled, conspicuous without the usual hive of activity buzzing around some piece of furniture you would be thrown onto or fucked against. There was nothing.

“I didn’t know what you wanted to do,” Tom was saying, his gentle voice booming in the empty space, “we don’t have a script or anything so… I’ll leave it to you.”

You bit your lip.

It was more freedom than you were used to, less direction, less to build the fantasy where you could forget you were ultimately in a warehouse with just your business partner. It was… nothing. Tom said your name quietly, and you nodded, stepping back to assess the space.

“I’m just thinking,” you reassured him.

Had the studio always been this quiet? You tried to remember a shoot day where it had been this silent, this calm, without the stress of lighting people or cameramen or scripts being thrown around. You could hear every step Tom took as he walked towards the camera, the wheel-mounted tripod creaking as he moved it across the floor, checking batteries and SD cards while you stood in place, your bag still hanging from one shoulder.

Noticing your frozen stance Tom frowned across at you, nothing but gentle concern in his blue eyes and the fine lines around them.

“I was thinking something kind of minimal, maybe cosy?” he offered, “Maybe an armchair? Something like that?”

You thought about it for a moment, crossing to the corner of the room to finally set down your bag.

He was finally getting into ‘director mode’, growing more energetic by the second.

“I’m thinking we just frame it on you, no distraction. Single take, if we can.”

You nodded silently as he crossed to the storage cupboard he’s overeagerly labelled a ‘props department’. It was stacked high with fabric and furniture and lingerie, tubs of various exotic sex toys near the door. Tom stepped straight past them.

There was a mattress in the props room, materials to build a bed, and you pondered on the idea for a moment.

“We could keep it really simple, maybe?” you suggested, “Find a warm background. Or just use white. Try and get one twenty minute shot, or something.”

You reached for lube without thought, collecting the near-empty bottle of body oil beside it too, as you perused the options in front of you.

“Remind me to buy more of that,” Tom mused, sparing a glance to the bottles in your arms before standing beside you to peruse the options.

You nodded silently, your free hand rifling through bagged silicone toys, slightly in a daze as you picked out a few options. There was a slight blush dusted across Tom’s high cheekbones as he turned to see your arms full of dildos. You smiled as it took him a second to find words, and wondered how the hell he’d chosen to start a porn studio in the first place.

“Colour co-ordinated,” he commented, and you smiled, picking out yet another pink toy from the pile.

“Naturally,” you smiled, “I think that’s everything? Could we drag a mattress and pillows out?”

He nodded silently, already moving to manoeuvre the double mattress leaning against a wall in the props room. You rolled your eyes before helping, knowing he was being a gentleman, or whatever he called it. You called it putting his back out.

He rejected your help, so you grabbed as many pillows as you could, following him back into the main studio, privately smiling at the dramatic grunts he made trying to move the mattress. He tossed it to the ground with a grunt, shoving it into the corner of the room, before pausing again.

You dropped everything down on to it, toys, lube, pillows and all.

And then both of you waited.

It was so strangely intimate, just the two of you in the room, the strange nature of your relationship weighing heavy after last night’s miscommunication. Suddenly there was nothing you wanted to do less than take your clothes off.

“White sheets?”

“Hm?” you hadn’t processed what Tom said, too wrapped up in your own world, frowning down at the bare mattress.

“I was thinking white sheets.”

“Oh, uh, yeah.”

He was off, assigned another task, and you almost envied his distraction as you slowly sorted the pillows how you wanted, gathered the toys absentmindedly. Before Tom came back from the props closet you made yourself scarce, catching sight of his slim outline through the doorway. Facing away from you as he rummaged.

In the single bathroom of the studio you cleaned anything that would be going inside of you, avoiding your reflection, trying to shake off the odd nervousness coursing through your veins.

Why? It had been years since you felt this way before a shoot. Before you’d met Tom, even. Sure, shoots could be exciting, exhilarating, intimidating, but this self-consciousness, this self-doubt… it had come from nowhere.

You pressed your forehead to the mirror, closing your eyes, breathing deeply. The tap running sounded like a waterfall, the silicone under your fingers felt alien, the air almost claustrophobic as you wondered what the hell was wrong with you.

Tom was done making the bed when you got back, frowning at his phone until he heard you re-enter the studio space, quick to look up and see if you were happy with his set. You felt hyper-aware of him, of every movement he made, a clean towel and toys cradled in one arm as you took in the space. It was a simple premise, just a clean fitted sheet pillows in a corner, a clear space for you in the middle. You knew it would look good on screen. You knew this was an easy job.

You felt sick to your stomach.

“Do you want to face the camera? Or kind of, not acknowledge it?” Tom asked, speaking again as you forgot to reply, too caught up in your own mind. “Maybe if you ignore it that’s more… voyeuristic?”

“Sounds good,” you responded, kneeling to prepare your space. This was autopilot, your day job. You could do this.

“Right.”

He sounded a little put out by your response, but moved the camera anyway, switching to a knee-height tripod. You stood, stepped back to give him space, and frowning at the sudden headrush. You blinked, catching yourself staring at the flex of his arms as he moved the heavy equipment. You didn’t realise how long you had been staring into space until Tom called your name a second time, crossing into your personal space.

“Are you okay?”

Tom’s voice was so soft you wanted to cry, fingers hovering beside your bicep, his gentle eyes demanding for you to meet them, daring for you to lie while his face is so close to yours.

Somehow, the guilt of his worry made you feel worse.

“No, I’m…I’m being stupid. Sorry, just tired.”

“Did you not sleep well?”

“No, I, uh, I slept fine. I’m not sure. Just not really feeling it.”

His face fell, but you knew he wasn’t disappointed in you. He thought he’d done something wrong. Immediately you were talking, doing anything you could to soften his guilt.

“It’s my job, though. I can do it. This is great Tom, I think it’ll be a good shoot.”

“Sweetheart –”

You sighed, eyes falling to the mattress, before forcing a smile.

“Let’s get this over with!”

He looked like he wanted to argue with you, but you forced yourself to move, pulled your feet from the floor with far more effort than it ought to take. There was some comfort in rummaging through your own bag, that piece of home, something private from the studio. You found the vibrator you’d brought, a pink bullet you used almost exclusively at home, fully charged that morning. Behind you, Tom snorted in amusement.

“Nothing here is ever charged,” you shrugged off his stare, knowing damn well you didn’t have to explain yourself.

You wanted to explain anyway though. Just in case, Tom thought anything he did wasn’t enough. He seemed perfectly fine with the criticism, though you knew he was making a mental note. He always did, then you had something to say.

Trying not to make a big deal out of it, you stripped to your underwear, folding your clothes neatly and being careful not to show any self-consciousness in your posture. You’d never been ashamed or embarrassed before now, and you weren’t about to start. Even if it was just you, and a very well, fully dressed Tom. Vibrator clutched in your fingers, you finally sat on the damn mattress.

He was the other side of the camera now, somehow both distant and a few feet away. You found yourself staring at your body in the monitor, just watching. Tom’s voice broke you out of yet another daze, and you wanted to pinch yourself. Why couldn’t you do it today?

“We don’t have to do this today, if you don’t want to.”

“No, it’s okay I just… I forget it’s just us sometimes, you know? There’s such a production and so many people and at the end of the day…”

Tom smiled, a relief on his face that told you he had been feeling it too. That this was weird.

“I know what you mean. If you’re uncomfortable…”

“Just give me a second to warm up, we need to make something, after all.”

You stretched, not really sure why, moving a little around the nook Tom had created, shuffling pillows and practicing where you wanted to lie back, watching a monitor as Tom played with a soft lighting, twisting and turning to find the most flattering angles you could.

As he shuffled things around, Tom nodded to the spread of toys you’d set out. You’d added your vibrator to the pink line up, perfectly organised on the white towel.

“Do you want those in shot?”

You shrugged.

“Might be hot?”

He nodded silently. You moved the toys in to the frame, trying to blink away the cloud which had settled in your mind. The world felt foggy, your arms like they were moving through treacle, and you knew Tom had noticed.

As he prepared two directional microphones, you tried not to feel claustrophobic. The audio from the microphone he was pointing towards your pussy would be almost grotesque, and you fought not to shuffle further from it as you imagined Tom listening later, headphones in, as he balanced the levels between your moans and the wet sounds of you fucking yourself.

Fuck.

Why was this so different to a regular shoot?

You’d done solo shoots before. With Tom. And half-a-dozen other crew, you reminded yourself.

You caught sight of his curls above the monitor, face serious as he set everything up.

“Speak?”

“Testing, testing,” you spouted off nonsense until he offered you a thumbs up, happy with the audio.

Then there was nothing else to do.

He stood, looming over the equipment. And you looming over you.

“What’s the plan?” he asked, smiling at your frown. “You’re in charge here, I’m just the camera guy.”

You rolled your eyes, knowing he was trying to put you at ease.

“You’re the director,” you reminded him, knowing how he preened himself under the title.

You were impressed that his eyes had only roamed down your body once as he took in the shoot, glancing at the indulgent layout of toys, double checking the monitor, one headphone in. He had that stance he always adopted when he was directing, and you knew it was his favourite moment in any of this. The moment everything was pinned on him.

It happened so quickly you almost missed the moment he knelt down, blinking in surprise as his face remerged at your level beside the camera.

“Then my direction is: enjoy yourself. Forget I’m here. Let’s show them something real.”

He must have seen your shock, because it made him smile.

“Real?” you questioned, and he nodded firmly.

“I’m serious.”

For a beat, both of you were silent, his eyes meeting yours over the body of the camera.

“If you can,” he offered, “I understand it’s not always…”

You interrupted him with a hand, smiling your understanding of what he was saying, and dismissing it in one motion. The silence dragged on, and you decided to push this forwards. If you were done by lunch, Tom would probably insist on taking you somewhere nice.

“I don’t know if I should use – ” you ghosted a finger across the biggest toy, worrying a bottom lip between your teeth, “Simplicity might be key.”

“Do what you want, darling. What feels good.”

You nodded mutely, and for just a second you saw doubt flicker across his face. This was new territory, and even you weren’t sure if this was a step too far.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah! Yeah. If I’m… actually… it might take a while. Let me know if I’m taking too long.”

“Take as long as you need, darling. I’ve got nowhere to be.”

Tilting your head at him a little, you realised abruptly just how intimate this was. Moreover, that you wanted it anyway. That you were about to make him watch you cum. Make him hear you, smell you. He couldn’t touch, but he could watch.

And that was enough for you to perform.

Tom gave you a countdown, red lights peppered your field of view, and he was recording. He had taken a seat on the floor behind the camera set up, one headphone in to monitor audio, waiting.

You stayed sat up, back arched a little as your hands began to caress you own body, keeping on eye on the monitor while your face was out of the shot. You rubbed along your thighs, across your stomach, teasing at the lace of your bra and the elastic of your underwear each time you passed them, trailing your fingertips. It didn’t really feel like anything, doing this to yourself, but you knew to tease the camera. Tom would cut out anything too slow.

Your gaze remained firmly on the screen as you began to make your touches firmer, more deliberate, dragging lines into your skin and flirting with the camera. You admired the soft skin of your breasts as you started to shift your bra, enjoying the stiffening of your nipples in the monitor until –

The screen went black, and you immediately glanced at Tom, frowning as you lost the visual of yourself. He met your questioning gaze sternly, eyebrows furrowed, and you remembered his direction.

“Enjoy yourself.”

With nothing left to look at you closed your eyes, feeling the blood rushing to the surface of your skin, the sensitivity of your breasts as your fingers idly danced across them. You shoved your bra down unthinkingly, wanting to feel more, rubbing at the heaviness of your breasts and wincing as you enjoyed the pleasure and pain of pinching at your nipples, teasing them to attention. You glanced your nails across them, feeling it in your core. You didn’t want to wait anymore. Fuck the cameras.

It was hard to let to, to stop the delicious feeling of your fingers on your own breasts, but you forced yourself to free one hand, shoving off the bra, desperate to feel yourself without it. You knew you were grimacing, it wouldn’t be sexy, but you didn’t care. That was Tom’s problem.

You needed to touch yourself.

One hand reached below the waistband of your underwear, seeking out your clit, guided by a familiar ache. It was all you could focus on, your other hand forgotten, cupping your breast, the sensation vague and lost as your fingers found your clit. The sensation overwhelmed you as you shifted the hood, your body beginning to produce wetness. The room was a little cold, the air relieving against the heat of your bare skin, making your nipples peak as you leant back into the nest of pillows behind you.

You felt your stomach tense, a bolt of electricity tensing the muscles up and down your body as you brushed across your clit a little too hard. Your middle finger probed your pussy experimentally, slipping inside of you, quickly joined by a second as you played with the wetness there.

One, two, three pumps of your fingers inside you was enough for you to gasp, your eyes still closed against the bright lights as focused on nothing but feeling. No more fucking around.

You reached for your vibrator, hand knocking against the thick silicone toy lined up beside it, writhing as you pressed it against the fabric covering your clit. You cycled through the settings as fast as you could, still desperate for more stimulation.

More. It was on the highest setting. You wanted more.

Without moving the vibrator you shoved your underwear off, huffing as you kicked them away, not caring where they landed. The tip of the toy nudged against your clit exquisitely, and you froze.

There.

There.

You thought about Tom watching you. The hot blood coursing through your body, the line up of toys just waiting to be shoved inside of you. The sensitivity of you clit as you held it against that perfect point. The air against your dripping, aching pussy. The muscles starting to clench, the rhythm of your body. Building, building, you didn’t fight the feeling.

This was what you wanted.

That warm familiarity of the vibrator on your clit, the runaway train of your thoughts, it was enough to drive you over the edge. You hadn’t realised the keening, groaning noises you were making until you heard them, pleasure leaving your lips as an afterthought.

You felt empty.

Blindly you reached out, sticky fingers finding the shaft of a toy you wanted, a smaller one you could take right now. A dollop of lube in the palm of your hand was all it would take, a few pumps of the toy enough to coat it, the excess lubricant smeared on the sheets. You didn’t care. Not your problem.

Without conscious thought, you were still rubbing yourself, two fingers absently making circles against your clit as you fidgeted to be able to take the dildo. You didn’t bother preparing yourself anymore. You were wet enough, and you wanted the stretch.

Needed it.

Needed to feel full.

You shoved the toy into yourself, gritted teeth and your spare hand grasping at your breast, giving the nipple a sharp pinch to interrupt the overwhelming feeling of that silicone pushing inside of you. Your walls were stretched open, a gasp reaching your ears as you felt a nudge against your cervix.

It wasn’t enough. You felt wild, desperate, as you sloppily pulled the toy from yourself and shoved it back in, clenching down and still needing more.

Your fingers found a larger toy, arousal and lubricant smearing across your body as you discarded the dildo which you had just been fucking yourself with, leaving it somewhere on the mattress, forgotten in favour of the bigger option. It was thick. Maybe, in your right mind, you wouldn’t have considered it. But instead you coated it in lube, squirting the clear liquid on to the tip and rubbing it down the toy, focusing on nothing but the need pulsing through your pelvis.

On the emptiness inside you, begging, pleading to be filled. It hurt, how much you wanted to be stretched out, to feel something pounding into you. You felt animalistic, desperate for anything. The last of your conscious thought was occupied by the need in your clit, the demand for friction, and you just didn’t have enough hands. It was impossible to think. When you finally sank down on the fake cock, leaning back, legs apart, gaze focused on nothing but your own swollen pussy, it was a relief. You gasped, then sighed, pushing another inch of the toy inside you. You felt stretched already, split in half, but you kept going. With each thrust, you took the silicone further inside of you until you felt the dull ache of the toy going too far.

Finally, that emptiness felt sated, and you stayed still, too stuffed to risk moving and too blissed out to care.

But you needed more.

Each bear down made the toy threaten to shift, and you didn’t have the brain power to thrust and pay attention to your aching clit. You moved gingerly, grabbing a pillow to straddle, holding the toy inside you as you hunted for your vibrator.

You couldn’t even lean too far to reach it, you were so full it ached. And it was delicious.

With the smooth plastic finally in your hand you leant back, ready to bring yourself to another orgasm. With a blink, you realised there was a tear tracking its way down your cheek, and you smiled to yourself.

And then you accidentally looked forwards. Your eyes met Tom’s. The camera. The lights. The switched off monitor.

You wanted to cry.

He was watching you directly, with those sharp blue eyes, one finger resting along his jawline, his usual calculating, wide stance replaced with one knee hugged to his chest as he sat on the concrete floor. He was watching you.

You. Stuffed full, straddling a pillow on the bed Tom had fucking made, covered in a mix of lube and your own arousal. That strange feeling from earlier came back full force.

God. He had seen you actually come. Without acting or cheesy lines or clever angles to hide the worst of your O-face. You could pretend to come, tell your male co-stars what a good time you’d had, follow direction, anything. But this was too real. And it was just you and Tom. In the corner of a huge studio, bright lights and cameras and –

Had he called cut? You wouldn’t have heard. Did he realise you’d lost control? That you had forgotten you were supposed to be acting and been so desperate and –

“You’re doing amazing.”

You smiled at him weakly, gasping as the toy inside you nudged your cervix as you fidgeted. You didn’t realise that you were awaiting direction until he spoke.

“Another one?”

His voice was a little throatier than usual, though you supposed he’d been quiet for a while. His eyes kept drifting from your face, and you wondered if he felt as uncomfortable as you did.

You nodded silently, closing your eyes, listening to the increasing pitch of the vibrator as you turned it up to its maximum setting.

The minutes stretched on as your orgasm built, little raises and falls of your hips accompanying that insistent buzz of your favourite vibrator, the toy inside you starting to ache as it stretched you apart. It was impossible to forget that Tom was watching you now. That his piercing gaze was on you. As a matter of professionalism, you tried to avoid looking up. You ignored the camera, fucked your body in the way you knew it would respond to, only half-faking it as you came a second time.

You moaned and groaned and gave the camera an indulgent few seconds of overstimulation, the vibrator pushed against your clit to make you writhe and shake. You pulled yourself off the dildo in a mess of arousal, played with yourself, showing off how stretched out you were.

Fingers swirling in the arousal inside of you, you sighed in relief when Tom called, “cut.”

Dropping the toy, you pulled your legs together, ignoring him for a second as you took deep breaths. Taking stock of your body, the residual pleasure and pain and stickiness. A lot of stickiness.

Tom took pity on you, shifting a softbox so you had a clear path out of the corner you were hemmed into.

“Go and have a shower,” he told you, the most softly-spoken command you’d ever heard.

Nonetheless, you followed orders. On weak legs, you indulged in as long as shower as you dared, cleaning up and then just… waiting. Trying to avoid the real world. When you finally opened the door, wrapped in a robe, you found your clothes folded outside. Tom was nowhere to be seen, but you thanked the universe for him anyway.

When you re-emerged you were fully dressed and feeling a lot more like yourself again. And, actually, quite proud of yourself. Tom’s busyness told you everything had been recorded properly, equipment moved and the mattress bare, leant against the wall.

“All good?” you asked, more to announce your presence than anything. He stopped moving, offering you a gentle smile.

“Perfect! I think it’ll be great. Do you want to go get lunch somewhere? To celebrate?”

Predictable as anything. The thought made your heart swell with fondness for him, his head tilt and excitement, his strange place here.

“I think I’ll just go home,” you tried to smile apologetically, but you could still feel the ache inside you, the dull oversensitivity of your clit against your underwear.

The embarrassment and excitement fighting in the fit of your stomach.

Tom nodded, clear understanding on his face. He held the door for you on the way out.

“Are you coming in tomorrow?” he asked, quietly, like you might run off if he asked.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’ll see you then.”

*

Your bedroom fell silent as the vibrator stopped, the battery finally flat. You whined in disappointment, desperate for another orgasm. Your fingers replaced it instantly, rubbing, desperately pulling more wetness from the arousal weeping from you, but you were too oversensitive.

Panting, vision blurry, your thighs aching, you blinked away tears. You glanced at the nightstand. Tom hadn’t text you.

*

When you woke up the next morning your phone was dead. You’d forgotten to charge it last night, and leaving it in your room to charge offered a strangely peaceful morning. You had a few hours before you would be expected at the studio, and no work to do before then.

You indulged in spending time getting ready for the day, making a decent breakfast, doing a few chores you’d been putting off.

Processing what had happened yesterday.

In the clear light of day, you wondered if you ought to be embarrassed for the way you’d completely lost yourself at the shoot. The more you thought about it, the more you thought about it, the more you rationalised at you’d just followed Tom’s direction. Done what he’d asked. It had been intense, for sure, but you’d done what he’d asked. If anything you regretted the moment he’d had to speak, losing your nerve. You hoped he didn’t want pick-up shots today, you weren’t sure your body could take any more.

You thought about the night before, clearing up the scattered clothes and charging the vibrator you’d left strewn beside your bed, more ashamed of the images which had been conjured by your overactive imagination in the late-night privacy of your bedroom. You hated that everything you imagined was involved blue eyes. Distinctive curls. Pulling buttons from smart shirts and kissing along sharp cheekbones. Poor Tom. He didn’t need you overstepping that mark. And yet when you had closed your eyes, imagined you were under those lights again, all you could imagine was Tom. His creative gaze. Listening to the smoothness his voice leant to everything he said as he instructed you even more intimately than usual.

As you switched your phone back on, you forced the thoughts from your mind. They couldn’t follow you to the studio. The two of you had built something good. Something successful. The studio was doing well, you were both saving money away for the future, building your brands. You couldn’t screw that up now by imagining him like that. He trusted you. You trusted each other. Relied on one another.

You wondered if he ever fucked other actresses.

#lord forigve me for i have have rpf x reader #13atoms #fic #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston fic #tom hiddleston imagine #this is a weird one #i think 2 more chapters maybe #lmk what you think!

[yikesharringrove]

hi heres me projecting a sad thingy on steve. he secretly has a BIG thing for being called annoying, throughout his entire childhood his parents werent afraid of saying he was annoying or a bother, his friends growing up didnt hold back either, nancy said it too, even when she meant it in a cute way it still hurt. then the first time billy said it, except Billy was the only one who was able to catch the sudden switch, the switch from happy loud steve to quiet and dull.

“-and that’s when Tommy H. tried to pass the ball to George, but he wasn’t looking at it hit him in the head, and George started crying, and Tommy had to write him a note and now he can’t play outside during recess all week.” Steve was swinging his legs under the dinner table, sitting with his parents as they ate quietly.

He was recounting the daily second grade stories, pushing mushy vegetables around his plate.

His parents kept passing looks back and forth, looks Steve didn’t quite understand.

“And George doesn’t like Tommy, so I think that he-”

“Steven, I would like to enjoy my meal in peace, please.” His dad didn’t even look over at him.

“Uh, okay. Sorry, Dad.” He set his fork down, suddenly didn’t want to bother pretending eating his veggies. “May I be excused?” It was easier to simply retreat, go play in his room for the rest of the night.

Steve doesn’t like the way his dad looks at him sometimes.

It makes him feel bad inside. His dad simply waved a hand.

Steve took his plate into the kitchen, carefully placing it on the counter.

“He’s such a bother sometimes. Going on about the other children like it matters.”

“Richard, he’s a child.”

“And I don’t want him to grow into an adult that thinks it’s okay to annoy me people to death.”

Steve didn’t know what annoy means.

He asks his teacher the next day.

“To annoy someone means to irritate them. To bother them and make them angry.”

So, he irritated his father. He bothered him to the point where he was angry.

Steve didn’t speak the next night.

Or the next.

-

“Tommy, come on.”

Steve was not above whining.

“I wanna try it.”

Tommy had snuck a beer out of his dad’s stash in the fridge in the garage.

Tommy and Carol had each tried a sip, grimacing at the taste.

“I don’t thin you’re ready for it, Stevie. Still acting like a baby.”

They were fourteen, going into high school at the end of summer.

“Man, I am not. Just let me try it. I gotta get used tot he taste before we start going to parties.”

“No one’s gonna invite you to parties if you’re this annoying.”

The words stung, but Tommy passed him the beer while he said them, grinning lazily.

The beer tasted like shit.

Steve couldn’t discern it from the sour taste in his mouth that word left.

Annoying.

-

“Nancy,” Steve sang.

He was laying on her bed, his head flopped over the side, looking at her upside down. “Nancy.”

“Steve, I’ve gotta finish this.”

“Nancy, that essay’s due in like, a week.”

“I’ve got to finish this draft. Mrs. Lorraine said she’d read over it tomorrow and give me any pointers.” Steve rolled his eyes.

“You don’t need any pointers. You know she’s just gonna tell you it’s perfect.”

She was quiet.

“C’mon, Nance. Just lay with me for a little while. It’s been such a shitty week. Did I tell you my parents came home?”

“Yes. A few times.”

“I just always ask them to call first. If’ they called before going to the airport, I’d have like, a day or so, or at least a few hours before they get here depending on where they are. But they never do and they get on me about the house being a mess when it’s not, I’ve just left like, a pair of shoes out or something and-”

“Steve, I have to finish this. God, you can be so annoying sometimes.”

The words hit Steve like ice.

He sat up quickly, tugging on his shoes from next to the bed, yanking his sweater back on.

“I’m just gonna go then. Annoy my parents at home.” She didn’t say anything.

He rolled his eyes.

-

“Bill, where are you goin’?”

Billy was trying to get himself out of bed, gonna go make them both some coffee.

“I need some fuckin’ caffeine. Don’t know if you realized this, I didn’t get much sleep last night.”

Steve stretched lazily, finally letting Billy slid out from under the covers and pull on a pair of shorts from the floor.

He was smiling lazily, looked so perfect in the soft light of morning.

“Bring me a cup?”

“Yeah, Baby.”

“With a little bit of cream, and two scoops of sugar and-”

“I know how you take it, Pretty Boy.”

“And would you do some toast, too? I’ve got the good jam in the fridge, that fresh raspberry stuff from the old couple down the street. Will you do sourdough? It’s in he pantry, not the breadbox, and just a little bit of that Amish butter and then a layer of jam-” Billy flopped onto the bed, letting his weight press into Steve.

“I got an idea. You could come make yourself your high maintenance toast before I get annoyed to death.”

Billy meant it cute.

As cute as he can mean things while still making fun of Steve.

His idea was to get Steve in the kitchen with him. They could turn on the little radio down there and make breakfast together. It would be nice.

But it was alarming.

He was watching Steve’s face as he said it, and the second he let slip annoyed to death, Steve’s eyes went blank.

He stopped talking, smiling benignly up at Billy.

“What’s up?” Steve just shook his head. “No, something’s wrong, I can tell.”

“Nothing’s wrong. I’m fine.”

Steve’s words were clipped.

“You’re not fine. Tell me what’s wrong? What’d I do?”

“You didn’t do anything. I just-” he sighed. “I know I can be annoying sometimes. I’m working on it.”

“Why?”

“Because, because,” Steve wasn’t looking at him, “because it sucks, being around someone that just makes you mad because they won’t shut up.”

“Baby, you never make me mad. I’m sorry I said that, it was a joke. I don’t actually think you’re annoying. I just, I thought maybe we could make breakfast together.” His cheeks were hot, admitting that to Steve.

Billy doesn’t think it’ll matter how long they’re together, he’ll always get flustered admitting his feelings, or even getting close to doing so.

“No, Billy. It’s fine. I’ll try to keep it in mind. When to shut my mouth.”

“Steve, I fucking never want you to shut your mouth. I want you to talk to me forever and ever. I wanna hear about your fucking toast every single morning. I wanna hear about your day every night, and I wanna hear what pisses you off, and what makes you sad, and what makes you happy. Never stop talking to me, okay? Just love hearing your voice.”

“I, alright.” Steve’s eyes were bright again, but he still looked unsure.

“Come downstairs. Tell me about the fuckin’ Amish butter and why in the hell you have it.”

“It’s hand churned.”

“Yeah? Why’s that make it special?”

Steve appraised Billy.

He tried to keep his face open, tried to make sure Steve knew he wanted to know.

“It just makes it taste better. I think it’s because they use really fresh butter milk. I get it at the farmer’s market and the woman that sells it says they have a farm. They have goat cheese, too, and I’ve always wanted to try it because they have ones made with different herbs, and they all look so good.”

Billy was still on top of Steve, watching him intently as he spoke.

It made Steve warm. Washed out that sour feeling in his throat.

Because Billy wanted to hear him.

And Steve doesn’t know anybody that’s ever wanted that.

#yikes writes #steve harrington #billy hargrove #harringrove

[like-the-wings-of-butterflies]

Ruin (Din Djarin/The Mandalorian x Reader)

Summary: Amongst tragedy’s ashes, little remains

Word Count: 767

Warnings: ☆Major spoilers for Episode 14: ‘The Tragedy’ ☆

A/N: It’s been a little while huh? I was finally blessed with a little inspiration that broke my six month run of writer’s block so without further ado, here’s my first Mandalorian fic. I’m a bit rusty so it’s not my best work but episode 14 fucked me up and I needed to write something to cope :’)

I’m also hoping to finish off a few drafts in the next couple weeks and get back into the swing of things soon enough. Thank you as always for your patience!

Feedback is always appreciated!

The Razor Crest, your home for the past six months and Din’s for who knows how long before you, completely decimated in every sense of the word. The fire you’d built amongst the remaining rubble kept you warm while Din planned your next movements with your newfound allies. Night had long fallen and in your solitude you found the events of the day were catching up to you, chest aching as you relived each moment.

How a day started off so light and ended in such tragedy was beyond you. It was mere hours ago that you were blessed with the rare gift of hearing Din’s laugh for the first time, as the two of you took turns calling out to the child using his real name, delighted by Grogu’s responses.

“You’re like a father to him,” Ahsoka Tano had stated just a few days earlier, looking at Din softly. “And you his mother.” She added while turning her attention to you, a small blush dusting your cheeks at her confession. Despite the nomadic lifestyle you’d been leading, the concept of domesticity had become more and more appealing to you as time went on, as the walls that protected the Mandalorian began to fall and the man beneath the armour - Din Djarin - began to appear, as did your feelings for him. Following Ahsoka’s revelation, for a moment you thought that perhaps a life together with just the three of you wasn’t so impossible after all.

But oh how wrong you were; the child had been taken from you, and you were completely powerless to stop it from happening. Only being able to watch as his small form faded from view, his tiny cries echoing painfully in your ears.

You were brought out of your thoughts by the sound of Din’s heavy footsteps behind you, stopping only a few feet from your grief-ridden form. He stood silently for a few moments, suddenly unsure of himself before attempting light conversation, if only to relish in the comfort your voice provided.

“You found something?” He queried, taking notice of your fidgeting hand around the unknown object, glistening ever so slightly in the light.

You nodded softly, eyes glued to the flames, “Amongst the ruin,” You rolled the metal ball around your fingers for a few moments longer, wishing it was in your son’s hand instead of your own; a piece of home to comfort him in whatever hell he was currently experiencing. You stood and turned your body to face Din, eyes downcast in attempt to shield your tears from his knowing eyes.

“Although I suppose none of that really matters now.” You whispered hoarsely, managing a sad smile as you pressed the joystick handle into his palm before walking away in search of more firewood in a desperate attempt to make yourself feel useful. A small gasp escaped your lips as a gloved hand reached out and caught your wrist, holding you from leaving his presence.

In an unexpected display of intimacy, the Mandalorian pulled you into a sudden warm embrace; arms wrapped tightly around you, holding you against his beskar-plated chest. If the situation wasn’t so dire, wasn’t so inconceivably harrowing for the pair of you, a crimson hue would’ve dusted your cheeks at his actions.

“I’m so sorry.” He said simply, the modulator failing to mask the emotion in his words. Beneath the helmet, you knew that Din was hurting just as much as you were, the same immeasurable guilt clawing at his mind as he endlessly wondered what he could’ve done to change the outcome.

“It’s not your fault Din,” You promised, shifting your arms to hang loosely around his neck so you could peer into the t-shaped visor, past the point of caring whether or not he could see the tears flowing freely down your face, “It’s nobody’s fault.”

He nodded solemnly, wishing he was better versed with words so he could pull you from the dread that consumed you, “We just have to get the kid back.” he concluded, shifting to wrap his arms around your waist and pulling you impossibly closer to him. Both too tired, too guilt-ridden to care that the pair of you were confessing your feelings for one another without words in the most perilous of situations.

“Our kid.” You corrected, standing up on your tip toes to place a teary-eyed kiss on the top of his helmet.

“Our kid.” He agreed without missing a beat, silently vowing that he’d stop at nothing if it meant getting his little family back together and safe again.

#the mandalorian x reader #mandalorian x reader #din djarin x reader #pedro pascal x reader #x reader #the mandalorian #mandalorian #din djarin #pedro pascal #grogu djarin #grogu #fanfiction #fanfic #angst

[queenlegacyproductions]

The Dark Side of The Light

Pairing: Mustafa Ali/OC (Riley Carter)

Summary: Mustafa has acquired a new attitude on Raw with RETRIBUTION but his fondness for a certain returning Gangsta has not...although he has a different way of showing it.

Warnings: Violence, Praise kink, Spanking kink, Breeding kink, Choking kink, Daddy kink, Dom!Mustafa 

Author’s Note: I LIIIIIIIIIVVVEE! Yes, your girl is back at it again for the first time in months, and I come bearing the smut! It’s been a while since I wrote something like this so let’s hope I can knock off some of the rust from being M.I.A for so long. Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy!

~///~

‘Even the brightest of lights has some darkness in them.

These were the last words Mustafa remembered hearing her say to him on the night she was drafted to Raw from Smackdown last year. The last night the WWE Universe would see Riley Carter.

The last night The Heart of WWE would team with The American Gangsta. 

And within the time they’ve spent separated, Mustafa became more of a martyr in the name of the light. To be that beacon of positivity. To give hope to the younger generation that you overcome anything by being good.

And what has that gotten him?

Injured before Elimination Chamber.

Screwed at Money In The Bank.

And overlooked by management for every overly muscular, uncharismatic MMA reject.

Well, he’s had enough. No longer will he or anyone else for that matter be overlooked because they don’t fit the mold.

And with that new mindset, he formed RETRIBUTION who has been causing havoc on WWE, a team of abandoned misfits whose dreams were left in the dust by the business.

He finally decided to follow Riley's advice and let the rage and anger consume him.

She would be so proud of him…

...if he hadn’t did the dumbass.

Not a shocker there.

In the midst of his conquest of fighting the corruption within the WWE, he targeted the Fiend with RETRIBUTION but was unsuccessful when The Fiend disappeared with Alexa. When the lights came back on, The Hurt Business’ music started to play.

“And now, here comes the group that has had some problems with RETRIBUTION the past few weeks. The Hurt Business.” Tom phillps said as Bobby, Shelton, Cedric and MVP stood at the top of the ramp. 

“MVP said that The Hurt Business would deal with these masked cowards running roughshod in WWE and he plans on making good on that statement right now.” Samoa Joe said when they marched to the ring.

 “And it appears that Mustafa and RETRIBUTION isn’t backing down. They’re still in the ring.” Bryon addressed as RETRIBUTION stood their ground in the ring, taunting them. But before The Hurt Business could get into the ring, they were attacked by three masked assailants on the outside.

“What the hell? What’s going on?!” Michael yelled from the commentary table as one of the attackers threw Bobby over the barricade.

 “Looks like The Hurt Business is getting the hurt put on them.” Bryon said when another attacker threw MVP into the ring with RETRIBUTION who stepped back when the attacker followed him in as the rest beat up the others on the outside. The mysterious assailant picked up MVP, setting him for a small package driver.

“Wait! That move...looks familiar!” Mustafa heard Michael say as the masked figure hit the driver on MVP before they popped up to face RETRIBUTION head on. 

“Oh, ho. And now it looks like they’re turning their attention to Mustafa and RETRIBUTION.” Joe chuckled as the other two attackers slid into the ring, joining the other figure. T-BAR and MACE stepped forward as if to attack them but the masked person stepped forward with their hands up in surrender. 

“Wait. Looks like the masked attackers want no problem with RETRIBUTION.” Bryon said while the masked individual gestures towards their face covering. Ali steps forward, pushing T-BAR and MACE back to approach the individual. The three individuals reach behind their head to snatch the masks off their faces.

“Oh, my god! It’s the Carter triplets!” Bryon said as the two people that fell back were revealed to be Jordan and Michelle Carter, the youngest siblings of Riley, who stood in front of Mustafa with a cute mischievous smirk.

“It’s been a year since we last saw Riley Carter on Monday Night Raw but it’s been even longer than that since we’ve seen Ali be reunited with The American Gangsta.” Michael said as Mustafa looked Riley up and down, his eyes wide before he matched her smirk. He steps closer to her, pushing her silver highlights out of her face before he brings her closer to kiss her.

“And the more things change, the more they stay the same.” Joe said as Riley breaks the kiss, resting her forehead against his and the lights go out.

~///~

“The gangsta is back, baby! I. Am. Back!” Riley cheered when she got back to the hotel with Mustafa. He chuckled at her little victory dance.

“Yeah…” He scratches the back of his head, moving his hair out of her face. “And you didn’t even tell your boyfriend…” He feigned hurt which made Riley slap his shoulder.

“It’s not like I didn’t want to.” Riley laughed. “But I wanted to surprise you.” She steps closer to him, biting her lip as she looks him up and down. “Besides, you can’t tell me that you didn’t like it.” She teased.

Mustafa chuckled, shaking his head when he looked down at her. “That’s where you’re wrong.” His tone seems to get deeper, almost as if he was trying to intimidate her. “I didn’t like it.” He stepped up closer to her, making her take a step backwards.

“I didn’t like the fact that you returned to Raw without telling me.” He continued to step closer to her.

“Mustafa-.” Riley said as she kept backing up away from him. He shushed her.

“I didn’t like the fact that you got into RETRIBUTION’s business tonight just to make a statement.” He continued as the back of Riley’s knees hit the edge of the bed, trapping her when he stepped into her personal space.

“Baby, I-.” She gets cut off again when Mustafa puts a finger to her lips. 

“But you know what I really didn’t like?” He asked as he ran his fingers to her chin to tilt her head up to make her look up at him. He leaned closer to her when she shook her head. “I didn’t like that you always feel the need to put yourself in danger to protect me.” 

Riley swallows as she goes to say but she gets cut off with a gasp when Mustafa suddenly wraps his hand around her throat. “B-Baby, please. You’re starting to scare me…” She whispered, her chest heaving fear and growing arousal.

Mustafa then smirked. “Oh, kitten..” He squeezed a little tighter, encouraging a moan to slip from her lips. He leaned closer to her, almost kissing her lips. “I haven’t scared you yet.” 

Mustafa then kissed her aggressively, pushing her down on the bed without letting go of her neck. Riley’s eyes rolled into the back of her head as she gave him a choked mewl when Mustafa squeezed her neck again. He lets her go to stand up straight to look at her breathless form laid out before him. She whimpers, closing her legs as if she was shying away from his intense gaze. 

“Uh,uh…” He tutted, grabbing her legs to pull her closer. “Don’t shy away from me, babygirl.” Mustafa teased, pulling her panties off her before he spread her legs again. “This is what you wanted huh, Riley?” He continued to tease her as he kissed up her calves. “Wanted the dark side of me, right?” Riley squeaked and squirmed as his kisses grew closer and closer to her core. “What was it that you always used to say?” He kissed her inner thighs.

“Ah! UH, fuck!” Riley shouted as she balls up her fists in the sheets. “Ah!” She yelped when he slapped her on her pussy. 

“Answer me, Kitten.” He commanded when he guided his fingers up and down her pedals slowly. “I won’t repeat myself.” 

“I said-uh!” Riley stammered when he teased her clit. “I-I said...I used to say...that...even the brightest of lights had some darkness in them.” She panted when he grabbed her neck again to make her look at him again.

“Good.” Mustafa kissed her lips, swallowing her moans. “Good girl.” He moves his hand down to her shirt collar. “I think you deserve a reward now, don’tcha?” 

“Mmhm…” She nodded, toying with the fingers of his other hand which made him laugh. 

“Love how submissive you get when you’re horny…” Mustafa teased before he kissed her. “That little innocent look on your face...makes me want to ruin you…”

“Mustafa…” Riley whines as she claws at his shirt. “You’re still completely clothed…” She bites her bottom lip when she manages to rip open his shirt, sending buttons flying across the room.

Mustafa laughed and grabbed her hands, pinning them to the bed above her head. “Kitten,”

He gives her a pointed look as if warning her. “Behave.” 

“But Daddy…” She huffed, pouting up at him as she writhed on the bed. Mustafa groaned underneath his breath at her ravenous behavior before he moved off the bed to remove the rest of his clothes. He then got back on the bed to attack her neck with kisses and aggressive love bites.

“You’ll be lucky if you can even walk after I’m done with you.” Mustafa growled in her ear, giving her right thigh a rough squeeze. Riley lets out a light giggle.

“Who said I wanted to?” Her tone giving away mischievous intentions as she wraps her legs around his. Riley bit her lip to stifle her giggles when he groaned again, this time in annoyance. She then let out a soft keen as Mustafa slowly slipped his dick inside her. “Oh, fuck…” She claws at his back.

“Kitten...Watch your claws.” He warned as he rolled his hips at a slow pace.

“Or what?” Riley continued to taunt him, chuckling before she cursed as he began to move his hips faster as he grabbed her jaw firmly.

“You must really miss me if you want me to put your pussy on life support.” Mustafa said before he pushed her knees towards the headband, making her scream over the sounds of the headboard smacking against the wall.

“Ah! Ahhh, fuck! Mu-Mustafa!” Riley’s eyes rolled into the back of her head, biting her lip to stifle her loud moaning.

“Uh-uh, baby..” He tutted before he pulled out to turn her onto her stomach. “Don’t go quiet on me now.” Any other time, you’re running your mouth, talking shit.” He grabs her by the hips, raising her ass to pull her back to his dick. “So don’t be silent when I show you your place.” 

Riley keens at his aggressive backshots as she pushes up on her hands to throw her head back in euphoria. “Oh my fucking god, baby! Fuck me just like that! Fuuuucccckk…” She bites her bottom lip as she starts to move her hips back against his. Mustafa then pulls her hair back into a ponytail before he yanks it back hard, turning her whining to shrieking. 

“There you go…” He rasped into her ear, moving his other hand to her throat. “Scream for me. Scream my name. I want the whole roster to know whose pussy this is, kitten…”

Riley breathes a wanton moan as she balls her fists into the sheets as Mustafa continues to hit her spot dead on. “Mustafa…” 

“I’m sorry.” He panted. “What was that?” He tugged on her hair again which resulted in a sharp yelp. “Say that again.”

“Daddy...please…” A strangled cry escapes her as Mustafa tightens his grip around her throat, her orgasm right on the edge. 

“Don’t play with me, lil girl…” he practically growled before he let her go. “Give me what I want.”

“Daddy, please!” She lets out a broken scream when he smacks her on the ass again, thrusts hitting a little harder before he suddenly stops. “Nononono, Daddy, please…” She collapsed on the bed, quivering as her orgasm remained on the edge. 

“F-Fuck…” Mustafa stutters, feeling her clench down on his cock. “How...t-the fuck are you this wet?’ I’m almost tempted to just give you a baby..” He breathed as he took ahold of her hips to stop her hips from moving.

“Do it…” Riley mewled at his words. “ I want it…”

“Yeah?” He purred again, kissing her temple. “My baby girl wants a baby, huh? Want a bunch of little ones running around?”

“Uh-huh!” She looks back at him with a smile as she notices the feral look in his eyes.

“Then take it.” He begins to roll his hips slowly, knowing that she’s right there on the edge.

“Mustafa-.” Riley shrieks as she finally reaches her peak, her body shaking violently as her pussy squirts, soaking the sheets beneath them.

“Shit, babygirl. You’re-You’re fucking-. Ah!” Mustafa cuts himself off, letting out a roar as he cums deep inside her, hands gripping her hips tight to the point of near bruising. “Shit, you are something else, baby doll.” 

“So what...people...tell me.” Was her response. Mustafa popped her on her sore ass. 

“Don’t sass me, woman.” He gently pulls out, laying down next to her. “I still have energy to go another round without taking a nap unlike you.”

Riley manages to give him a little giggle as she rolls over onto her back. “Never took you to make idle threats, my love.” 

A sigh was heard from beside her.

“You must really want to be in a wheelchair for the week, huh?”

“A week, huh? That’s the best you got?”

tagging: @retro-rezz-the-est @gold--gucciempress​

#wwe smut #WWE #Mustafa Ali #mustafa ali smut #mustafa ali x oc

[tomtenadia]

A Little Braver - Chapter 2

I think I will be brave as well and post chapter 2.

In the chapter when Rowan muses about his call sign he uses the term FNG - it literally mean Fucking new guy. In US military it describes a newcomer.

Enjoy the chapter!

--------

The next morning Rowan was on his way to the fire station. He had left the house a bit early to allow for traffic or getting lost. In the end he had arrived with ten minutes to spare. He parked the car along the road and walked to the main area in front of the station and stopped. 

The tall training building was on fire and a few people were outside in front of it as if in waiting. He searched for the captain but she was not there. He wanted to go and ask to the team about her whereabouts but did not want to interrupt the training session. So he just decided to lean against a wall of the fire station, arms folded at his chest and just watch the drill. 

He was curious about why they were not using the truck or water and wondered if they were following a specific exercise.

Being a fighter pilot was full of risks but by looking at the raging fire and thinking that there were people willingly putting themselves through that inferno made him shiver. He’d rather been strapped in a metal cage than in a house on fire.

All of a sudden a figure ran out of the building carrying what looked like a dummy and two more followed.  He gasped when he recognised the captain. The dummy she was carrying on her shoulders must have weighed a ton and he was impressed. He followed her, dumping the dummy on the ground and joining the tall blonde man and pat him on the shoulder looking happy. His lips turned up in a hint of a smile.

Her eyes met his and she gave him a huge smile and Rowan straightened up and pulled away from the wall. She walked to him while unbuttoning her bulky fireproof jacket.

“Morning Captain,” she brushed her hair away from her face and Rowan’s heart started to race.

“Enjoyed the show?”

He cleared his voice while he tried to gain some sense again “That was fascinating.”

“Can you give me twenty minutes to have a very quick shower and get changed? You don’t want to be in a meeting with a stinky woman.”

Captain Whitethorn nodded “Take your time.”

“You can go and meet the guys. They are a friendly bunch.” She offered “just ignore the lewd jokes.”

“Thank you for the head’s up.”

Aelin ran away and he gathered some courage and walked to the team. He was not the best around people he did not know, but he wanted to play nice.

He took another step and the tall blond man noticed him and walked with purpose toward him and offered him his hand “Captain Whitethorn isn’t it?”

Rowan nodded.

“Aelin told us you were coming. I am Lieutenant Ashryver.”

Rowan nodded and studied the man in front of him and noticed that his posture and attitude screamed military. After he had spent all his adult life in the force he had gotten used to spot one of them. He had the same feeling at the base during the fire. 

“Can I introduce you to our team?”

“Gladly.”

Aedion turned to the red-haired woman “Ladies first. This is Ansel. Never leave her and Aelin alone because then you are in trouble.”

“Hey, I’ll tell her you said that and she will put you on truck cleaning duties for a month.” Aedion ignored her and continued “then here we have Brullo, Nox, Ress, Ren and finally Luca.” He grabbed the young man’s shoulder “he is our probie. He finished the academy and he joined us a few months ago. For now he is coming to the less serious calls but we are planning on coddling him a bit less and make him see the real stuff as well.”

Then the man turned around, scanning the area in search for something or someone “we also have two EMTs, Elide and Lysandra but they must be around the station doing something. You will meet them anyway.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you all.”

“Everyone, clean up and don’t leave everything to Luca. All of you haul ass. Nox, Ren you are on equipment duty. Ansel, Ress you two are on uniform checks. Brullo, take Luca with you and go over him some truck procedures for before and after calls. Now away all of you.”

Rowan chuckled. The man was definitely ex military. 

“Where did you serve?” He asked the man taking a chance.

“I was in the army. I was an artillery specialist. Once I retired Aelin called me saying her station was looking for recruits and I applied for the job. Guess my experience with explosives and such was a plus. Many years later I am still here and still loving it.” Then he studied the Captain “how did you guess?”

“Your posture. It’s the stick up your arse, as Captain Galathynius would say, that gets drilled into you from day one. The way you give order, again, very familiar.”

“Call her Aelin, Cap or Captain. She hates being called Captain Galathynius.”

Rowan raised a eyebrow with curiosity for that statement.

“I usually call her brat or menace.” Aedion chuckled “she is my cousin. I have known her since we were little. I have earned that privilege.”

Aedion started walking back into the station and Captain Whitethorn followed him.

“She has the bas habit of not filtering what she wants to say, can be brash and very vocal when she is mad at something or someone, but she loves her job and her team. She loves being a firefighter. She might be young be she is extremely capable. She is the first female captain. Absurd to think that before her it was just a boy’s club, eh?” The man joked, and lead him into a big spacious room with a lone table and chair and a kitchen at the bottom of it “If she keeps likes this I can see her climbing up the ladder pretty quickly, although I cannot imagine her in a desk job.”

Rowan knew very little about the woman but he had the same feeling.

“This is where we spend most of the time when we are on shift, all tasks are done and just wait for a call. We have books, video-games, tv… you name it. And like all families we fight for who controls the remote.”

Aelin joined them a moment later “Are you giving our Captain the tour?”

“Yes, just the cheap tour for now. You can give him the proper one later.” Aedion winked at her.

“I guess that after our meeting, the Captain will be more than happy to get rid of me.

“I gave you a tour of the base, I would love a tour of the station.”

Aelin’s mouth almost fell open in disbelief.

“If you are not fed up with me we can think about it.” And she turned around and walked away the same way he did the day before. 

Aedion gestured with his head to follow her and Rowan ran after her.

“I am sorry for the delay. Once I got back to work yesterday I had an email saying that our annual performance review is due in three weeks. I did not have a way to contact you otherwise I would have pushed the meeting forward a bit.”

“It was actually interesting watching you guys train.” He followed her to her office and took the seat she offered “we have performance reviews as well. What do you guys have to do?”

Aelin was caught off guard by him being talkative all of a sudden “We get tested on our abilities. We usually go to the academy, are given a scenario and the whole team has to work as if that was a real call. We also get to perform some individual tasks and those are timed. It’s a very stressful period.”

“You can leave our project to me until you are done with your review. I am happy to give you an update and you can come once a week to check how things are progressing if you are too busy.”

“Are you trying to get rid of me, Captain?” She smiled at him, leaning back in her chair.

He shook his head and she noticed him finally relaxing and sitting more comfortably in his chair “we have those review as well and they are always stressful for the team and I am aware how much of my time, preparing drills takes me. I am offering you to concentrate on your mission ahead for now and then catch up in three weeks.”

Was he actually being nice to her?

“I will be fine captain, but thank you for the offer. I appreciate it.”

“If you change your mind, my offer will still be on the table.”

“So,” she said quite abruptly changing the subject. If he even thought she needed his help because she was a woman he was in for a tough ride.

Aelin grabbed a folder with her plan. She had spent the entire previous day working on it. “These are the copies for you.” And she passed him a pile of papers “they are the ideas and changes I would like to suggest. I believe that is the part you will have to discuss with your CO. the biggest and probably most time consuming change is the extra door. All the other suggestions are repairs and perhaps replacements of old parts. I would like to explain again that these changes are not up for discussion. They need to happen.”

Captain Whitethorn nodded “I have discussed the matter with my CO after our meeting and he understands that and agrees. He promised me that he will fight until the last ditch if they start blocking him with budget bullshit, his exact words.”

“Please tell Air Commodore Salvaterre that I appreciate his cooperation. It goes in the interest of every single person who works at the base. Him included.”

“This pile here is a draft of possible training sessions for both your squadron and the ground crew. I want basic fire prevention training, fire extinguisher training, reviews of fire drills. I would like to do some training, especially with the ground crew on fuels handling, fuel storing and clearing spillages. Your squadron will be welcome as well. I think it will benefit everyone.” She flipped through her notes “I would like to nominate a couple of people as Fire champions or any other name we can come up with. Their role would be to perform monthly deep inspections and weekly spot checks. The idea is that by doing this, you are always on the ball with any problems. Of course we will provide training on how to do all this.” She kept explaining and the man in front of her listened to her with great interest, never interrupting her. 

“Needless to say that fire prevention is everyone’s job. See it, report it. And if you can, fix it.” She jotted down a few things “of course all of this depends on our rosters. I don’t know how it works for you guys but we work in shift patterns.”

“My squadron and I, we work Monday to Friday when we are ground-side. Ground staff such as engineers for example, they tend to follow shift patterns as well. I can talk to the supervisors for the mechanics and engineering team and see if I can get a roster from them. They are aware of the fact that extra training is on its way.”

“Please do. I have a feeling that will be the biggest job.”

“Do you have any questions for me so far?”

“Which venue will we use?”

Aelin tapped her pen on the table “I was thinking here if it’s okay with you. We have the equipment, also we don’t have maximum security checks.”

“Speaking of security…” he extracted something from his pocket “`I have your badge.”

Aelin took the badge he offered in surprise.

“I imagine we will be working together quite a lot and you will need to visit the base as well on a regular basis. You have now the badge with consultant clearance. It’s not a lot, but it will grant you access to all the are you will need. And no more forms to fill.”

“Thank you, captain,” she was speechless “Thank you for trusting me.”

She smiled fondly at him and Rowan realised he’d do literally anything to see that smile. It was intoxicating.

They worked for a few hours and Aelin realised it was not as bad as she had feared. The captain had been very keen to listen to her plans and making suggestions according to his knowledge of the base and his team. He had also looked a bit less uncomfortable and more willing to have a full conversation instead of monosyllables. At least it was progress and since it looked like they were going to work together for a while it was a good thing. 

When her stomach grumbled loudly she coughed embarrassed to try and cover it but the very faint hint of a grin on the captain’s lips told her that he had head her.

“We can stop for lunch, captain.”

Aelin almost blushed “I guess so. I think I have a black hole forming in my stomach. Those drills always leave me famished.” She stood “there is a lovely diner very nearby. Can I interest you in lunch? It’s on me. But no shop talk.” She was ready for a refusal but the captain stood and nodded.

“I’d like lunch.”

When they left the office they met Elide and Lysandra carrying boxes full of supplies to stock the ambulance. As soon as Rowan noticed he jumped forward and offered to help Elide.

“Let me carry them. They are quite bulky.”

“Thank you,” said the woman flashing a smile to Aelin then showed the captain the direction to the ambulance.

“Where do I place it?” He asked once they were arrived. Elide opened the back door of the vehicle “just here. Lys and I will sort through everything. Thank for the help.”

Lysandra dropped all her stuff and turned to the two captains.

“These are Lysandra and Elide, they are our two resident EMTs.”

“Ladies, this is captain Whitethorn.”

Lysandra mouthed hot to Aelin and the woman rolled her eyes. 

“The captain and I were going for lunch. Could you please tell Aedion to man the fort for me while I am away? I am just going to Emrys and I have a radio with me if anything happens.”

The woman nodded “I know the drill. Go, enjoy lunch.”

The two captains left “we are walking. The place is just down the road. We are all regulars there.”

Five minutes later they reached the small diner and Rowan thought the place looked cosy and felt like the good old fashioned family run restaurant.

“Emrys and his husband Malakai have been running this place since forever. It’s an institution in the neighbourhood.”

“Aelin, my girl.” A very smiling Emrys walked from behind the counter and went to hug the woman “Are you keeping well?”

“Of course.”

“Two today?” He asked looking at the Aelin’s companion.

“Yes please. Can we sit anywhere?”

“Go ahead.” He gestured pointing at the tables.

“Quiet today?”

“Not at all. You just missed the rush. Until twenty minutes ago we were full. Malkai is delivering an order to the police station.”

Aelin walked to the table near the window and invited Rowan to join her.

“Here’s the menu for your friend. Let me know when you are ready to order.”

Rowan took the menu, opened it and lowered his head to start reading it.

Aelin studied him for a moment while he was distracted. Stared at his hands and noticed the hint of a tattoo sneaking from underneath the uniform. Interesting, she would have never pinned the man as someone who would have a tattoo. A smile tugged at her lips. A part of her wanted quite badly to get to know him a bit more. “Your hair,” she asked “has it always been silver or it became like that with age?” Then she stopped embarrassed “I mean I am not saying that you look old. I just meant as if it got like that as you grew up.”

He lifted his head from the menu and his piercing green eyes settled on her “I was born like this. Apparently it runs in my family.”

“I am sorry, I didn’t mean to pry. I was just curious.”

He gave her a half a smile. It did not linger. It was quick and for a second she thought she had imagined it “I am used to it.” He tapped on the plastic menu “you haven’t decided yet?”

“Oh no, I don’t need a menu. I know it by heart and I know what I want.”

Emrys came back and both placed their orders and Aelin enjoyed the shocked expression on the captain.

“You can’t possibly eat all that stuff.”

“Watch me.”

The silence grew uncomfortable again. It looked as if he was chatty only when it came to work.

“Why did you join the airforce?”

For a moment he looked stunned at her question “I was eighteen and fresh out of high school. Happy I was done studying. My parents wanted me to go to uni, but the idea of spending four more years on books was not for me.” He explained and noticed she had he hands folded under her chin “One day I met Lorcan. We knew each other from before already, being both from Wendlyn and all. It was nice to see a friendly face in a new place. Anyway, he told me he had moved here to Terrasen with the TAF. He told me they were recruiting and I went to the base during an open day. The day after I had signed up and a month later I was starting pilot academy.”

“Where in Wendlyn?”

“Doranelle.”

“I was there once. On holiday with…” no, not time yet “with a friend. We loved it very much.”

He nodded “It’s a nice place, but I must admit that after so many years I feel like an adopted citizen of Terrasen. Orynth is quite a gorgeous place.”

Emrys came with their food and Rowan noticed how skilfully placed all the plates on the table. As if he was used to have all those orders from her.

“You can’t be serious and actually eat all this food.”

Aelin tackled her first plate “watch the pro at work, captain.” She gave him a smile and Rowan shook his head and tackled his food.

“Why firefighter?”

He noticed her still for a second and the happiness wash away from her face in an instant. Fuck. Wrong question already.

“I was eight.” She said playing with her food for a moment “I was out playing with some of my friends. I was on my way home when I saw two massive fire trucks in front of my house and my home on fire.” She placed the fork on the plate “I ran toward the house but this fireman stopped me. I was crying and calling for my parents. He hugged me, he told me they were working to try and save my parents. I remember trashing in his arms to get free but he held me tight.” She took a bit to keep herself busy while telling the story “he took me to the back of the engine and showed me some of the tools and explained to me how the engine worked. He distracted me while his colleagues worked to stop the fire and save my parents.” She finally met his gaze “it took them almost two hours to kill the fire. After that there was nothing left of the house and of my life. My parents had been found dead in the house. The gas boiler has suffered a fault and basically exploded. They stood no chance.”

“Aelin I am…” his hand moved slowly closer to hers and brushed it gently “I am so sorry.”

“When I grew up I decided I wanted to be like the firemen who attended my fire. I wanted to rush into a house on fire and try to save some person’s parents of spouse and help them avoid the loss I suffered. I wanted to be like the man who stood with me and distracted me.”

Her finger lifted a little and met his almost in acknowledgement “Aedion’s family took me in. As soon as I finished high school I was like you. I had no interest in uni. So I signed up for the fire academy.”

“Sorry for ruining lunch.”

She shook her head and flicked his finger playfully. That had been the first contact between them. He had always kept his distance and that little flicker of affection made he heart flutter. The man was a puzzle. He could go from stone cold bastard to this in a small amount of time.

Aelin finished her food and noticed the captain staring at her with curiosity.

“I cannot believe it.”

“Told you,” she smiled at him with a smug expression “and I am even going to get cake.”

“No you are not.”

In defiance she stood and went to the counter and ordered chocolate hazelnut cake from Emrys. She came back and sat down again and ate the whole slice.

“Remind me to apply for a mortgage if I ever take you out for dinner.” At those words Rowan froze. He did not mean to do say that. It was supposed to be a joke but he should have learned by now that he was bad at making jokes.

“I’ll keep that in mind, Iceman.”

His head shoot up and looked at her. She had used his callsign. Something that only his squadron members would ever use. They all had one. It was a tradition. But it also meant something. It was always the other pilots in the team who choose the callsign. Never the pilot himself. It was a rite of passage that welcome you in the squadron. In a family. He got his one because of his hair. Everyone thought it was because he was cool and calm under pressure but no. When he was still one of the FNG he went through his naming ceremony like all the others FNG and they had decided he was going to be iceman because with his hair he reminded them of a creature from the snowy glaciers of the Staghorn mountains, hence iceman. Hearing her calling him like that made his heart skip a beat.

“We don’t have call signs. We got nicknames but nothing official like you guys.” She polished the plate from the chocolate left from the cake “the guys usually call me Captain or Cap. Aedion is the worst. Because he is my cousin he takes the liberty to call me brat or menace. I should really write him up for insubordination.”

She tapped his hand “come on grampa, let’s get back to work.” And stood. Rowan had wanted to grab that hand and hold it for a moment. It felt as if a small shift had happened in their weird work relationship.

Aelin paid for the meal as promised and they walked back to the station “are you sure you will be able to concentrate with all that food in you?”

On the way back Aelin looked up at the sky and noticed a few flakes that had started to follow. “Looks like it’s going to snow.”

She turned her head and caught Rowan sniffing the air, the eyes closed and a relaxed expression. The hard lines of his face had disappeared and the faint smile on his lips changed him completely. Yes, the man was hot but there was more to it. The very rare times that his face softened his eyes lit up as well turning a deeper green and made him stunning. She had a feeling those moments were rare and was glad that she had caught at least a couple. Like right now, his body relaxed enjoying the first flakes of snow. That was a precious insight in the man at her side.

“You like winter?” She broke the magic.

His eyes snapped open and his face turned hard again as if he hated being caught enjoying something.

“I do.” He said softly “I love the snow and winters in Terrasen are incredible.

Aelin smiled. His scent. His scent reminded her of Terrasen. Pine and snow. She had smelled it the other day while she was inside his plane and he was quite close to her. He smelled like winter and realised for a second that the nickname Iceman was perfect as well for that reason and not just because he could be a cold hearted bastard. They got back to the station and she found it quiet apart from Brullo and Luca near the fire engine. Apparently the man was explaining the youngster some of the routine checks they performed. He was their resident engineer and mechanic so he was the best one for that type of training.

“Nice lunch, Cap? Did you eat all the food at Emrys?”

“The vegetables are still there. They are safe.” Aelin turned when noticed that the joke came from Rowan.

Brullo and Luca burst out laughing “oh he is good.” Added the older man.

“My eating habits are the joke of the station.”

“Cap, they are insane.” Added Luca.

Aelin turned to Rowan and he lifted and eyebrow as if to say I agree with them.

She turned again on her colleagues “one more joke from the two of you and I’ll have you scrub the station from top to bottom with a toothbrush.” Then she turned on her feet and walked away to her office. 

Rowan tapped his hat in salute to the two men and followed her. He found her in the kitchen making coffee “Do you drink coffee?”

“I don’t think I could function without it.”

“Good. We basically drink it by the litre. It keeps you alive on a night shifts.”

She made some coffee and offered him a mug “milk, sugar?”

“Black, thank you.”

He watched her as she dropped two spoonfuls of sugar in it “All this sugar is not good for you.”

“Shhh you heathen.”

He rolled his eyes and took a sip of his coffee “Thank you for lunch by the way.”

“My treat, for working with me.” She apologised, while leaning against the counter and drinking her coffee.

“You are not as bad as I thought. I agree with Aedion, you are a brat and a menace but I can work with that.” Bad idea. Rowan noticed anger flash in her eyes.

“I am not having you calling me that.” She slammed the cup on the counter “you barely know me and I have been professional, sure if cracking a joke or two makes me a brat it’s your problem you need sense of humour. I have been busting my ass to fix the shit that went down in your station.” She took a step toward him and Rowan braced himself “I know how I run my station. I am aware of every single problem or fault that happens here. Your fucking hangar went down in a blaze of glory and you had no idea of the shitstorm about to happen.” She was now a few mere centimetres from his face and a foolish part of him wanted to push her against the counter and kiss her senseless. She was mad at him and all he thought was how her lips would feel. What was wrong with him?

“Don’t ever call me that again with that smug face of your because I have no problems removing that smirk with a punch.”

Rowan kept staring at her in silence, not risking saying a word while she was that mad at him. Damn the woman had fire in her. And it did not matter he was getting a well deserved lashing down from her, he could not stop thinking that she was beautiful. Not just physically, she was fierce, brave and passionate and he was irremediably drawn to her.

Which it was totally crazy since they had met the day before.

“Now get the fuck out of my station. We are done for today.” And she stepped back.

“Captain, I did not mean to offend you.”

“I said out.” She repeated through gritted teeth “I have your contact. I will let you know when I am in the mood to meet you again.” She grabbed her coffee and walked away from him.

Rowan stood still and stared at the spot where she had been. He ran a hand through his hair and cursed himself for his stupidity. They had finally set aside the bad start they had, and messed up everything again.

He picked up his cap on the counter and then realised he had left all the documents in her office. He was about to walk to her but then changed his mind bad idea. So he just left the station, got back to his car and drove back to the base.

Aelin was furious. Why did he have to go and ruin everything with his bloody mouth of his?

That beautiful mouth of his.

She paced the office for ten minutes then she left, went to changing room and changed into her training gear. Some exercise will do her good to clear her head.

Aedion found her twenty minutes later “here you are,” he shouted as she ran back and forth in the yard with a dummy on her shoulders.

“Aelin!” He shouted when she did not stop. When she ignored him again he went in front of her and stopped her “Aelin.”

“What?” She growled dropping the dummy on the ground with a loud thump. She was breathless.

“I thought you were with the captain.”

She ignored him and grabbed the dummy again but Aedion stopped her and grabbed her hand “did something happened?”

“Yes, he happened. He is an arsehole and I don’t know why I am bothering to help him.”

“Because it’s your job.”

“Well, he can go and ask west station for all I care.”

Aedion shook his head “they are in our territory.”

Aelin ran a hand through her hair.

“Did he do something to you? Because if he did I am very good at hand to hand combat. I’ll destroy his stiff arse.”

Aelin chuckled. Aedion had always been very protective with her.

“He called me a brat and a menace. He said that I am not as bad as he thought and that he agrees with you for my nicknames.”

Aedion laughed “that’s why you are mad at him? Ace, I love you but you can be both.”

She sat down on the dummy “I know. But if you say it it doesn’t bother me. We grew up together. You know me better than anyone. He instead…” she punched the dummy’s face “he had this smug face and he used this tone like a condescending prick.”

She groaned “you can be a brat and a menace but I can work with it,” she repeated in a mocking tone “I am the one doing him a favour to help him. Idiot.”

“You just want to find an excuse to hate him and push him away from you.” He sat down on the dummy beside her “Ace, could it be that you like him but you are still too scared to allow another man in your life?”

“No. I have known the guy for two days. And no, I do not like him.” She protested.

“Would it be that bad?”

Aelin stood and faced him “I am not interested in getting any closer to him than what works dictates. Lie. Lie. Lie. Lie.

“You are overreacting and you are behaving like a brat and proving him right.”

She pushed him off the dummy “you are on truck duty for the whole week.” Aelin grabbed the dummy and went back to her training.

Rowan finally made it back to the base and went straight to his office but Lorcan intercepted him.

“You are back early. I thought you were going to be at the station all afternoon.”

Rowan ignored his CO and plopped on his chair and closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“That bad, eh?” Joked Lorcan at the man’s reaction.

“I opened my damn mouth. That’s what I did.”

Lorcan sat on the chair on the opposite side of the desk “What did you do? I thought you were the guy who counted till ten before opening his mouth. That’s why I gave you this assignment. I need this to go smoothly and fix all the shit that the old CO messed up. If I wanted to piss off the TFD’s captain I would have sent Moonbeam.”

Rowan snorted “probably would have been better. Far more charming than this cranky old bastard.”

“I have seen the woman. Fenrys would end up fucking everything. Literally.”

Lorcan sat back relaxed “I am coming to the station tomorrow and I will talk to her and bring her back into our good books.”

“You?” Rowan scoffed “if there is someone who has a worse temper than me is you, Lorcan.”

“I’ll be my charming self.” The man joked.

“The gods save us all.” Rowan joked standing and pacing the office “trying to scare her will not work either.”

“I noticed that. I wish some of our men would have that level of balls. Quite amazing for a woman.” Rowan’s head snapped at his CO’s words.

“Don’t even dare say anything like that in her face or you are a dead man.”

He and Lorcan would go along on most of the days but on some concepts, Lorcan still followed the good old fashioned ideas that for example females were not suited for the military, a topic they had many fights on. Rowan had tried to open up the ranks to a few more females in the squadron but Lorcan had rejected the idea every single time.

“You know how I feel about those things.”

“Yes, our very progressive man. Equality and all.”

“You can be such an arsehole.” Rowan stopped at the window “even the Navy is accepting women. Their recruitment for female officers is up by 40%. We are still to celebrate when we will have our first female officer.”

Lorcan growled “well, then move to the Navy.” He stood annoyed “flying a jet is not like service on an aircraft carrier!”

Rowan turned furious “you are not seriously telling me that you don’t believe a woman could fly a jet.” He slammed his fist on the table “I have seen Aelin in action and during drills. I have seen her jump into a building on fire without any second thought to save one of our men. I have seen her drag a dummy twice her size off a burning building while wearing the fire suit and an oxygen tank on her shoulder. She could probably do a vertical, pull 9G and then get off the plane and have a dance in our face. She is definitely not the fragile thing you think she is just because she is a woman.”

“What is your point?”

“Stop being a misogynist prick.”

Rowan phone went off and Lorcan moved away “if you are coming tomorrow, you leave that attitude behind.” Lorcan left and Rowan took the call. Once he was done he sat back down on his chair and looked outside noticing the snow falling and a gentle smile tugged his lips at the memory of the moment they had shared at the restaurant. He had to apologise. And quickly.

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