#when you burn so slow you have to keep blowing on it

[starlazergazer]

Figure Something Out

Pairing: Anakin x Reader

Request: I was wondering if you could make a enemies to lover where Anakin is madly in love with reader but wont admit it since he likes to mock and annoy her but the reader doesnt, like there are but they arent as strong as Anakins. So as time passes she starts to catch feelings for him and ends in fluff but its a little angsty too yk

Warnings: Swearing, Anakin being a bit of dick

Word Count: 7.5k (sorry not sorry we love a slow burn enemies/academic rivals to lovers)

A/N: Check the blog for a little update if you want but I really hope this was worth the wait! As always please please let me know what you think!

Your eyes bounced fervently back and forth between your master’s and Anakin’s, not even bothering to hide the shock you were sure was etched into your expression. “You can’t be serious”

“Do I look like I’m joking” came your master’s quick reply, his tone alone enough to scold you for your loss in decorum, your posture snapping up reflexively as you schooled your face back to a more natural expression, unable to keep yourself from getting defensive.

“I just mean-“ the hurried deflection rolled off your tongue before you could stop it, your master’s unamused glare enough to keep the words from fully coming out. Taking a deep breath, you tried to better control yourself before you continued. “he’s a padawan, same seniority as me how could he train me?”

“He’s also standing right here” Anakin’s gruff voice proved he was just as thrilled about this assignment as you, though you barely spared him a glance, keeping your gaze locked onto your master’s, a silent plea for him to take it back.

“Padawan Skywalker is the best padawan with a saber by leagues I think he could be of great help to you” And you knew that tone your master used here, one he reserved to tell you he was done discussing the matter.

Dejectedly you finally let your gaze slip over to Anakin’s, offering him a tight-lipped smile “I appreciate your help Padawan Skywalker” you nearly choked on the words, having to force them out of your throat.

Anakin in response said nothing, his arms crossed defensively over his chest as he let his eyes rake your figure quickly, letting your words hang uncomfortably in the air until your master finally broke the silence.

“Truly padawan Skywalker we appreciate everything you do for us” He offered a small nod, clapping Anakin on the back.

“Of course master Koon” and you didn’t miss the way he offered your master a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, nor the way he was happy to return a comment to your master’s thanks but not your own. The two of you were already off to a great start to what was bound to be a very short apprenticeship.

With a small nod back in return Master Koon took his leave, leaving you and Anakin alone in the hallway, you looking up at the padawan expectantly, him pointedly avoiding your gaze as much as possible.

“Look” you drew his attention back to you with a sigh “neither of us want to be doing this so how about we just forget this and go our separate ways?”

He raised an eyebrow up at you in response, clearly unimpressed by your proposed solution “I told Master Koon I would help”

“And how noble of you to do so” you replied with a huff, crossing your arms over your chest to match his posture “but since you clearly want to spend as much time with me as I do you this felt mutually beneficial”

“I’ve seen you fight” he responded back with a small shake of his head “you very obviously do need the help”

“Believe me you’ve made it abundantly clear what you think of my fighting skills in training” you replied with a bitter laugh.

“When it takes your opponent less than a minute to get your saber out of your hand it’s hard to keep my comments to myself”

“It does not-“ and you cut yourself off before you could properly blow up, Anakin always having this weird affect on you, pushing you over the edge with little more than a tap. You weren’t letting him get to you that easily this time. With a deep breath you tried to collect yourself “Fine, when do you want to start?”

Anakin paused for a moment, doing nothing but survey you, probably curious as to why you hadn’t started biting his head off yet, but nonetheless continued “after dinner tonight, now come on we have battle strategies with master Kenobi”

“You were asked to help me train with my lightsaber, doesn’t mean you have to walk me to class from now on” you huffed but followed him down the hallway nonetheless.

“Then start jogging and we’ll call this training too” he answered with a shrug.

-

You sat back trying to listen to Obi-wan’s lecture, finding yourself for the first time ever in this class unable to pay attention to the lecture, instead your focused was solely on the person next to you.

Anakin has spent the last several years making his feelings towards you abundantly clear. If the chiding remarks, the mocking comments, the downright insults were anything to go by then you could easily say that he didn’t seem to like you that much. And you had to say by this point the feeling was mutual.

He’d spent all of his time in this class in particular sitting on the other side of the room, pointedly the chair that was just about as far away from you as possible, something you were sure the rest of the padawan’s had picked up on by this point. And that would explain why now that he not only showed up to class with you in tow but took a seat next to your usual one the entire rooms attention seemed to subtly shift in your direction.

Not that the room’s attention wasn’t usually in his direction if you were being honest. Anakin was the jedi council’s golden boy, the prophetic child that would bring balance to the force, as well as being a hell of a fighter with his light saber, and if you were being totally objective he wasn’t exactly hard on the eyes. All of this meant he had a natural sort of charisma that seemed to draw the unconscious attentive weight of a room in his direction, a weight that now sat squarely on your shoulders as well.

This new attention combined with Anakin’s incessant knee bouncing meant your focus was on just about anything but the lecture at hand.

“You know you don’t need to babysit me in every other part of jedi training” you whispered over to him, Anakin’s knee bouncing harmlessly against yours as he leaned in to listen and you fought the urge to pull your own back. Afterall this was your desk you weren’t about to contort yourself so he could be more comfortable.

“Is this why you need my help?” he responded with an annoying smirk, leaning in even more as he whispered “because you struggle to pay attention in class?”

You narrowed your eyes back at him in response “I’ll have you know-“

“Padawan Y/L/N, Skywalker” Obi-wan’s unamused voice broke through your whisper sharply, freezing you in place, your face now uncomfortably close to Anakin’s as every eye turned towards the two of you “is there something you would like to share with the class”

“no Master” Anakin answered quickly, righting himself just as you did.

“Perhaps some insight on the battle then?” Obi-wan goaded, gesturing to the holomap before him, amusement sparkling in his eyes as he watched his padawan squirm beneath his gaze.

“Well I-“ you could hear the lost tone in Anakin’s voice as he desperately searched for something to say, you having half a mind to let him sit in the hot seat before you let your eyes roam over the map, happy to see that you recognized the battle Obi-wan was walking you through.

“The republic’s army comes from behind” you offered before things could get too awkward, feeling Anakin’s gaze snap in your direction as you spoke “on that ridge over there, flanking the enemy forcing them to surrender”

Obi-wan’s gaze turned to yours with a warm smile as he nodded, no doubt knowing you would know the answer even if you hadn’t been paying complete attention, before he flicked it back to his padawan, raising his eyebrows slightly as he spoke “very good padawan Y/L/N”

He held Anakin’s gaze for a moment longer, an unspoken conversation happening between the two of them before Obi-wan continued lecture like usual, turning back to face the rest of the room.

Taking the opportunity you leaned back towards Anakin again “if there’s one thing I don’t need your help with, it’s this class”

The smirk made another appearance on his mouth as he looked down at you, but this one felt different than before, warmer somehow, as he nodded “noted princess”

-

Whatever confidence you had bolstered from battle strategies quickly left you the minute you got to saber training.

Anakin was already in the center of the room, feet planted squarely on the mat as he spun his saber effortlessly around his body, concentration etched onto his face though you could tell even from across the room that he was just having fun with it. What you wouldn’t give to be able to whip your saber around with such precision that it seemed almost careless.

“You gonna come fight or having too much fun back there enjoying the show?”

You detested the amusement in his voice as you realized you’d spent much too long staring at him from the doorway. Unable to think of much of a response, you immediately cast your gaze down to your shoes, blindly making your way towards the mat, unclipping the saber from your belt.

“What no training sticks?” You asked with a bitter laugh as you turned on your lightsaber, giving it a half hearted twirl in your hand as you set your stance.

“Don’t worry I’ll try not to hurt you” he winked back as he did the same, making you fight the urge to roll your eyes.

You waited for him to make the first attack, the two of you spinning in a circle around one another, each waiting for the other to strike first.

Not once did that stupid smirk fall from his face, frustration rising more and more within you with each step until you couldn’t take it anymore, deciding to suck it up and make the first move.

Swinging your saber down at him Anakin deflected the blow with little more than a flick of his wrist, barely moving from his original position no doubt in an attempt to show you how easily he could win if he wanted to. Fine, if that’s how he wants to play it.

You barely gave yourself time to recover before making another swing, Anakin deflecting with another simple movement, but you were back at it. Blow after blow Anakin’s saber met yours at every thrust effortlessly, but still you push forward, kept getting closer, not even noting that Anakin never bothered to take a step back. Not noticing how close you got to him until his empty hand shot out mid swing, capturing your wrist and disarming you with a twist, your saber now held tightly in his hand.

Before you could even comprehend what had happened he yanked hard on your arm, twisting you wildly until your back came crashing against his chest, one arm holding your saber and wrapping around your waist to pin you against him the other pressing his blade right up against your throat.

You could’ve screamed in frustration, at how easily he had pinned you, at how effortlessly he seemed to be able to block everything you threw at him, at how close and vulnerable you were now that he had you now pinned against him.

“What is this some game for you? Are you just toying with me?” You spat back at him, not bothering to hide the anger in your voice.

You heard a deep chuckle from behind you, could feel it ruminate up through his chest as it pressed you even further into his chest before he spoke, voice low and right in your ear, his breath tickling the shell of it with each word “I’m teaching you princess. Now use that big brain of yours and figure something out”

And you could’ve laughed at his so called advice, at how easy it is to tell someone to figure something out when you didn’t have a saber against your throat.

Instead you decided you were done fucking around.

Picking your foot up you slammed it down hard on the jedi’s left foot at the same time rearing your head back harshly to make contact with his nose, both attacks catching Anakin enough by surprise that he released his hold on you, stumbling back and releasing his grip on your saber enough that you could slip it from his grasp, pivoting on the spot and pointing the tip of the blade right at the jedi’s throat.

Anakin in response held his nose in his hand, pinching the bridge of it as he completely ignored your saber pointed at him, giving you a disappointed glare from overtop of it.

He sniffed and wiggled his nose before shaking his head and bating off your saber with his own half-heartedly “you know that trick won’t work anywhere but here”

“Good thing I don’t need it to work anywhere but here” you returned with a smirk, stepping back a few feet before dropping back into a fighting stance.

Anakin offered nothing more than a disappointed sigh before he dropped into a stance of his own, giving his nose one last check before he launched forward to attack.

You had no problem dodging each of his blows, your body always out of the way of the arc of his saber. The issue arose when it came to deflecting them. Swing after swing your saber was always there to meet his but the effort of stopping each of the jedi’s much more powerful swings had your arms shaking after mere minutes, your feet scrambling back to try and avoid the brunt of each blow as much as possible.

Anakin, however, seemed to zero in on your weakness immediately, never relenting as he swung again and again. You in response started to try and redirect each blow, hoping that redirecting the power of the swing would take the load off your arms.

That was until his saber seemed to hit yours at just the right speed, just the right angle, that the force of it reverberated down to your hands, your grip faltering for just a second but it was enough to have the cool metal of the hilt of your saber slip from your grasp.

Anakin hit immediately with another blow, effectively knocking your saber out of your hands.

You watched dejectedly as your saber slid out from your grasp and flew across the room. With a small sigh you held your empty hands up defensively ready for Anakin to sheath his saber and start listing off all the things you did wrong.

Instead you watched as Anakin stayed rigid in his position, lightsaber still held in front of you, knees still bent ready to strike.

“I get it, you win, I’ll get ‘em next time” you pushed mock enthusiasm into your voice as you started to make your way off the mat in the direction you saw your saber go when a blue column of light swung down just in front of you, barring your movement.

“So in an actual battle your plan is just to give up when you lose your lightsaber?” Anakin’s chiding voice had you gritting your teeth as your head snapped in his direction, little more than an amused smirk on his face as he talked “maybe offer your neck to the sith for an easy decapitation”

“No I’ll-“ frustrated words died in your throat as you sought an end for your sentence. You were tired, sweat had your robes sticking to your torso uncomfortably and every muscle you had burned, now was not the time for his mind games.

“You’ll what?” he pushed forwards, retracting his lightsaber so it now was held in that defensive position you were now all to used to seeing him in.

“I don’t know I’ll figure something out” you shot back, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Then figure something out” he goaded with a raised brow before striking, his saber moving slightly slower than you knew he was capable of, giving you plenty of time to side step out of the way.

“Okay I get it” you called back to him as you dodged another swing, taking a step back towards the edge of the mat “you’ve made your point”

“I’ve made my point when you stop thinking of this as just training” he shot back with another swing of his saber, pushing forward forcing you to take another step back “this isn’t just to get through training so you can advance in the jedi ranks this is about survival” another swing, another dodge and another step back “this is about making sure you stand a chance out on the battle field” you felt the floor beneath your heels start to give way, your toes balancing on the edge of the mat “this isn’t some game Y/N”

You felt your irritation grow within you with each word. You knew this wasn’t some game, you had been outside of the walls of the temple, you had been on a battle field, you knew you needed help with your fighting skills but who was he to decide after one day that you weren’t taking this seriously enough.

You watched as he set up for his next attack, as his foot landed far out in front of him as he lunged forward, the whole world seeming to slow around you as you side stepped the saber, Anakin’s hand sailing past you effortlessly. Without a second thought you seized his wrist, giving it a small twist in the wrong direction as you pulled him forward with it, effectively knocking the jedi off his balance.

Before he could realize what was happening Anakin was sailing forward, past you, to the ground below as you pivoted around to face him from atop the mat, his lightsaber now clutched firmly in your grasp.

Spinning slightly in the air so that his shoulder first made contact with the floor Anakin slid a few inches on the ground, coming to a stop on his back and looking up at you only to see his own lightsaber pointed down at his throat.

“Do you want to offer up your neck for an easy decapitation now?”

And to your surprise you heard nothing back but a laugh. A sound you didn’t think Anakin Skywalker was even capable of.

“That was good Y/N”

You felt your feet faulter beneath you, your knees nearly giving out, was that a compliment?

Your mind was still reeling as you shut down his saber and dropped it to the ground next to you, because Anakin Skywalker did not compliment you. Tease, chastise, bully sure he did all of those things but never compliment. And he certainly didn’t smile at you like he was doing now.

It was a weird sight to see, Anakin grinning from the ground below you, eyes twinkling slightly as his whole face changed with it, and to your horror you found a part of you liking the way it looked on him, as he extended his hand out to you.

Before you could even think better of it you reached out and grabbed his hand, helping to haul him to his feet, ignoring the slight tingle his touch left on your skin, blaming the way your cheeks felt hot beneath his gaze on the exertion of fighting him.

“You may never overpower your opponent but you’re fast” Anakin continued on as if nothing had changed, dusting himself off, the hint of a smile still playing on his lips as he talked “use that, dodge until you have them making sloppy attacks then strike as soon as you can”

It took you too long to notice that he was waiting for you to say something, little more coming out of your mouth than a half-hearted “yeah” that had his brows drawing in confusion.

Stooping slightly, he came down to your eyelevel, nose nearly close enough to touch your own, and for a brief moment staring deeply into each eye before shaking his head softly “that was probably too much for today wasn’t it”

Still you didn’t respond, not sure if you could’ve if you tried, for some reason unable to pull your gaze from Anakin as he looked at you, fluffy hair framing his face perfectly as if you hadn’t spent the last two hours dueling, as if you weren’t drenched in sweat.

Anakin frowned back in response, a single hand coming out to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear before he could think better of it. Then bending down and picking up his lightsaber from where you had dropped it “get some rest princess”

He spoke softly, softer than you had ever really heard him speak before he started to make his way towards the exit, leaving you standing on the edge of the mat, before he called out “I mean it, you did well today”

It was only after he left that it dawned on you, he had used your actual name.

-

Maybe it was naive of you to think that things could change so quickly.

That all it took was one decent lesson from him and the two of you could seamlessly slip into a weird sort of friendship.

Maybe you just wanted to believe you could put everything behind you so easily that you assumed he wanted to do the same.

You’d heard people gush about Anakin Skywalker before. About how helpful he could be, how nice, how charming.

You never got to meet that side of Anakin Skywalker, the man locking that part of himself from you practically the moment he met you. But you had really thought you were starting to see it these past few weeks.

The teasing comments had started to disappear, or they at least lost all their edge, coming off as more inside jokes than anything. He walked you to class every day, some days going out of his way to find you before he started to head in that direction. Your personal space found itself being invaded by him more and more, Anakin no longer going out of his way to put as much distance between the two of you as possible. Lingering touches, wandering eyes, inside jokes that had the two of you seeking out each others gaze in crowded rooms to silently revel in what was just said in a way only the two of you would understand.

Anakin Skywalker was quickly becoming your friend.

It was why when you got notified you were heading out on a mission to track down a bounty hunter with him for the first time ever you weren’t dreading the experience.

No you were actually excited.

Excited as you clipped your saber to your belt and headed out of your room.

Excited as you rounded the corner to head to your transport ship.

Excited as you stepped foot on the entrance ramp.

Excited as-

“I just don’t understand why she has to come with me”

It was as if a lead ball had dropped into your stomach. The excitement evaporating on the spot as a numbness took over and your step faltered, your body freezing in place just steps down from the ships entrance.

Because you knew that voice, but even worse you knew that tone. The anger, the contempt, the annoyance.

All it took was one simple phrase and you were ripped back into the same existence of just weeks ago before you had fallen for all of Anakin Skywalkers tricks.

“I agreed to train her and I’ve been doing that why does she have to hijack my missions now”

And you wished you could say his words didn’t affect you. Afterall just a few weeks ago you would’ve expected to hear them from him, you’d practically grown up hearing this resentment for merely existing in his vicinity.

Then why did they hurt so much now?

Why did they have a painful lump starting to grow in your throat?

Why did they make you wish the ground would swallow you whole on the spot?

Why did you ever think you could be friends with Anakin Skywalker?

“Yes master”

Anakin’s final words snapped you from your daze but still you had to force your legs to move you forward slowly, making sure that as Obi-wan exited the ship you were an appropriate distance back from the entrance.

He gave you a kind smile as he exited. As easy as it would have been to resent Obi-wan due to his proximity to Anakin you could never bring it upon yourself. “May the force be with you Y/N” he offered you with a small head bow.

“Thank you master Kenobi” you responded easily, mirroring his bow.

And he looked like he wanted to say more. Perhaps apologize for his padawan, perhaps offer parting words of wisdom, instead he seemed to swallow them, giving you one more slightly tense smile before departing, leaving you with no where to go but up the ramp.

Anakin’s eyes were on you the second you came into view, his face morphing too easily into a soft, friendly smile. “Hey, you ready?”

And it was the way he could flip the switch so easily, act so flawlessly that everything was okay, so effortlessly at ease.

Weeks ago you would have bit back, would’ve offered back some scathing comment, some backhanded remark. It was one thing that kept you from outright hating the young Skywalker. For every insult he spat you always had one to hurl back at him. He could insult you, berate you, belittle you, but you always came back swinging.

Right now though you didn’t have it in you.

You offered nothing more than a small nod of your head, not missing the way his smile morphed into a frown at it.

Maybe he was expecting you to say something, maybe he was gearing up for a fight, maybe he really thought you hadn’t heard him.

You couldn’t bring yourself to care what was running through his head at this moment.

You brushed past him towards the cockpit not missing the way his eyes never left you as you did so, not missing the way his hand hovered just over your arm, not missing the way he so hesitantly followed you.

You just had to get through this one mission and you could go back to ignoring Anakin Skywalker.

You weren’t as excited for that prospect as you thought you would be.

-

An involuntary hiss slipped past your lips the second your left foot hit the ground, your weight quickly shifting back to your right to avoid the pain, overcorrecting just enough to knock yourself off balance, all weight balanced dangerously on the edge of one foot as your arms reached out half-hazardly seeking anything solid to steady yourself.

Just before you could tip over another body slotted itself beside you, shoulders fluidly depositing themselves beneath your arm as another arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you into Anakin’s slide as he swore quietly “I told you to stay put”

You laughed bitterly at that, forcing yourself to lean back away from him as much as possible even as the arm on your waist tightened, his other hand clipping his saber to his belt so that it could come up and grab the hand he had thrown around his shoulders, effectively pinning you to his side as he started to drag you back to the wall “Yeah sure so you can just leave me”

You felt him still at your words, the grip on your hand and waist slackening for a second as your words seemed to hit him physically, your position keeping you from properly viewing his face as his voice came out softer than you had ever heard him “I wouldn’t do that”

His tone caught you by surprise. If there was one thing you knew about Anakin Skywalker it was that the man was loud, the way he carried himself, spoke, hell the way he flew reeked of confidence to the point of arrogance. Anakin was anything but the soft, almost vulnerable tone that just left him.

And you felt a part of you already starting to reach out to him, ready to pull him into your side and assure him that you knew that, assure him that you knew he was a good person, to tell him that you trusted him.

But another part of you couldn’t give up the way he tried bench you. How after everything you had been through: all the training, the way he seemed to go out of his way to be nice to you lately, how everything seemed to be looking up, he still thought you were nothing more than a nuisance, a less than.

Less than capable, less than a good jedi, less than an apt fighter, less than worthy of his trust.

His motion continued after the brief pause, the two of you finally reaching the wall and Anakin taking care to slowly set you down against it, a hand supporting your calf as you squatted down, careful to keep your foot off the ground.

“You’re right that’s probably a touch too far even for you, so instead you want to what scold me for getting in your way? Tell me I’m a shitty jedi for getting myself injured? Pull my hair and call me ugly?”

Anakin only sighed in response, one hand coming up to tangle his fingers in his hair as the other planted on his hip, Anakin doing nothing but looking down at you in your position on the floor. “why are you always so determined to see the worst in me?”

Again the softness in his tone gave you pause, the sincerity in it something you had only gotten used to in the past few weeks. “Anakin that’s all you’ve ever shown me”

“not lately” his reply came out rushed, a note of exasperation crawling its way onto his voice “lately we were good. At least I thought we were good”

You debated your next words for a second, debated how much vulnerability you were ready to show to the man who has been nothing but hot and cold with you for the past few weeks “I thought we were too”

“so what happened?”

“You tried to get me kicked off this mission” your answer was quick and blunt, eyes immediately picking up on the way his brow furrowed “don’t even try to deny it I heard you-“

“No that’s not-“ he cut you off quickly, letting out a frustrated sigh before continuing “I was trying to do the right thing”

“The right thing?” you echoed back now furrowing your own brow.

“You coming here was an unnecessary risk-“

“ah so you still don’t trust me” you interjected quickly, watching closely the way his entire body seemed to recoil at your words.

“What no-“

“we’ve spent weeks training, you’ve given me good advice, I’ve gotten better you’ve said so yourself. So I don’t get why you still don’t-“

“it’s not that-“

“So then what you still can’t stand to be alone with me for that long?”

“Y/N!” he finally cut you off with a small shout, crouching down in front of you close enough that he nearly occupied your entire field of vision, physically forcing you to pay attention to him rather than let your mind run any longer. “I was just trying to protect you”

Your eyes bounced back and forth between his for a moment, trying to decern the truth, trying to find the underlying meaning. “I don’t know why you think I need your protection. I can handle myself”

Another dejected sigh from Anakin, neither of you moving for a tense few seconds before you heard a muttered “forget it” underneath his breath as he pushed himself up to a standing position.

“we need to get out of here” he offered a hand to you, helping you stand though kept his gaze planted on the back door of the building “we’ll stick to the alleyways and use nothing but blasters if we have to, the sabers will be a dead giveaway”

And though you wanted to push the subject more you knew he was right, get yourself through this mission and you could go back to avoiding Anakin Skywalker. It had quickly become a mantra for you.

You let him pull you softly out the back door, Anakin carefully checking around each corner before ushering you forward, helping you hobble on your one good leg slowly back towards your ship. That was until you heard an eerily familiar voice around the next bend.

“Find the jedi scum and bring them to me. The separatists have plans so I want them alive do you understand me?”

Anakin didn’t hesitate before pushing you back against the nearest wall, using his own body to try and shield yours from view as he pinned you against it, one arm bracing himself against it just over your head.

You looked up at him with wide eyes as the two of you listened intently, footsteps slowly drawing much too close for your comfort.

From this distance you could clearly see the set in Anakin’s jaw as he kept his eyes planted at the nearest corner, muscles tense ready to pounce at a moments notice. That was when the thought struck you.

“Quick kiss me”

Anakin’s entire body froze at your words, his eyes snapping to meet yours blown wide in confusion and shock.

“Come across two people kissing in an alleyway they’re certainly not going to expect them to be jedi so quick” You explained in a harsh whisper, giving his robes a quick tug.

Anakin, however, stayed rooted in place, elbow on his arm planted on the wall locking in place to prevent him from getting any closer to you, wide eyes cemented on your face as his chest didn’t even rise with breath.

“Ani quick” you hissed, trying to snap him out of whatever trance he was in.

The footsteps continued to grow louder, the soft drag of a heel against the pavement your only indication that they were steps away from your hiding spot.

Anakin still didn’t respond, gave no indication that he had heard you after your first command. To no avail you tried to silently beg him to move with your eyes.

“Hey what’re you-“

That was all you let them get out before you made your next decision, grabbing for the blaster on Anakin’s hip you aimed and fired, the shot hitting them square in the forehead sending the hunter to the ground before they could even finish their question.

The blaster noise seemed to finally snap Anakin out of it, a soft shake to the Jedi’s head being the only indication that anything had been wrong as he wordlessly pushed himself off of you and snapped his gaze down to the dead man before you.

“What the fuck was that Anakin?” You hissed, giving his chest a small shove.

Anakin’s eyes, however, never strayed from the unconscious body beneath your feet, his chest heaving with each breath as he kept his jaw locked in place.

“Anakin” you tried calling his name again, another push to his chest, still his eyes never strayed from the ground, his body staggering slightly as he let you push him “you blew our cover and because what? You’re so disgusted by me you can’t put up with one stupid kiss for half a second?”

Finally you got a reaction, his stark blue eyes finally snapping up to meet yours, a steel hard gaze you weren’t entirely prepared for, eyes that begged you to drop it.

You couldn’t help but laugh bitterly at his look, limping a few steps back from him as you shook your head, the heels of your palms coming up to dig tiredly into your eyes “Even after all that’s happened you really still hate me so much you’d jeopardize the mission to get out of a kiss”

“It can’t happen like that” His voice surprised you, the words in of themselves confusing but his tone throwing you off more than anything, an almost pained ring in it sending you sparling.

“What?”

A quiet swear from under his breath as he started to pace “Our first” he called louder, as if that were an  explanation, his hands clenching at his sides “It shouldn’t happen like that, it can’t”

And you could feel the frustration start to rise within you, the anger from his inaction ebbing to confusion “Ani slow down what is happening right now”

The nickname seemed to have the desired effect, his pace slowing to a soft stop, eyes snapping up to meet yours once again, an almost guilty expression on his face as he stood before you, Anakin Skywalker looking almost small before you for the first time ever “Do you know how many times I’ve thought of it?” he asked you softly, an anxious hand running through his hair as his eyes broke to look at anything but you “How many times I almost just-“ and he cut himself off with a sigh, a soft shake in his head as he looked down at his shoes, a small scoff escaping before he continued “to think that the first time it would happen was to maintain some stupid cover. That it didn’t mean anything. I couldn’t do it”

A part of your brain was lighting up with realization, another part pushing it back down with denial. He couldn’t be talking about kissing you, not now, not after sending you years of signals that said otherwise “Anakin what are you saying?”

His eyes connected with yours again, a pained expression and a small tilt of his head telling you to stop pretending you didn’t know, begging you to move past faking obliviousness.

But still a part of you was reeling back, sending a huff of air through your nose as you shook your head “How many times could you have really thought about it, you just started being nice to me a week ago”

“Years worth” the words came out on his next exhale, a small shrug in his shoulder as he answered “at least since we were nine”

But that didn’t make any sense, that couldn’t possibly be true “This isn’t funny”

A small bitter laugh escaped him in response, a soft shake of his head as he spoke “believe me sweetheart I’m not laughing”

You barely registered the words, your mind already reeling as it went over every thing he’s ever said to you since then, “you’ve been nothing but mean to me since I’ve met you” your words were soft, spoken more to yourself than to him but still Anakin opened his mouth to respond, your voice cutting him off before he could “always criticizing me in front of the masters, mocking my attempts to learn, making me doubt my own abilities”

“I’m sorry”

And some part of your brain registered that those were not words Anakin used lightly, knew the weight those words held for him. Another part knew it still wasn’t enough.

“You’re sorry?” You scoffed “you made me dread every moment I had to spend in your presence for years and the best you have is I’m sorry?”

Anakin had no response to that, his jaw visibly clenching as he fought to maintain eye contact with you, but no words came, he had no excuse, no real way to make up for it, and you both knew it.

“Why?” and the question shouldn’t matter to you, the ends didn’t justify the means, they couldn’t, but still you needed to know.

Anakin took a second, drawing in a deep breath as his gaze shifted to your feet, a small shrug of one shoulder before he answered “I wanted to get your attention”

And like that you were ready to start yelling again, because surely it wasn’t that simple, surely Anakin wasn’t that stupid, that childish. Instead, he continued on.

“I don’t think I realized that was what it was at first, just knew I liked it when you got in my face and pushed back, liked when you got so wrapped up in me that the rest of the world ceased to exist for a little bit” another pause, another deep breath “then once I figured it out I knew I needed to shut it down, the code meant I couldn’t get close, couldn’t form attachments. Pissing you off felt like a good way to keep you at arm’s length while still getting you to notice me”

A million different emotions swirled around inside of you, each trying to claw their way to the surface. You wanted to yell at him, tell him how stupid that was, berate him for having the emotional regulation skills of a child. You wanted to stay silent, let him stew in his miserly, in his guilt. You wanted to cry, the catharsis, the confusion, the mix of conflicting emotions all welling up inside of you, overwhelming you.

Instead, you spoke softly, your voice sounding almost hollow on your own ears “you know when you first came to the temple all the other kid’s thought you were weird”

Anakin’s gaze shot up to meet yours, a slight furrow in his brow as he tried to figure out where you were going with this.

“Looking back I think they were just jealous. You came in later than the rest of us but you already had a master, Obi-wan Kenobi at that, and you already had the councils attention, so they all tried to stay away from you” you took a deep breath, swallowing down the slight shake in it “I thought that was dumb and that I was going to be your friend so I went up to you and I was nice. And at first I thought you were nice. Maker I was so excited to make a new friend and then the next time I saw you it was like a switch had been flipped” Anakin’s disappointed sigh barely registered as you continued “so I tried to be funny, then entertaining, then chill. I tried everything I could to be someone who was worth your time”

You could practically hear Anakin’s teeth grinding as he clenched his fist at his side, leaning back to slump against the wall as he thought for a moment before speaking.

“When I first got to the temple I was scared.” He admitted softly, gaze casted out blankly to the wall on the other side of the alley “I had just lost Qui-Gon, the council didn’t seem to like me, I missed my mother. Then out of nowhere this beautiful girl my age came up to me, took my hand and told me that it was going to be okay, that I was going to be okay, and she said it with such conviction that I couldn’t help but believe her”

You waited with bated breath for him to go on, for him to fill in the gaps of your own story.

“Then what the council said to me about fear hit and I became ashamed of having been a coward, ashamed of needing someone to hold my hand, ashamed of being weak”

You couldn’t have stopped the small chuckle from escaping if you had tried “Anakin you are a lot of things but weak isn’t one of them”

He finally met your gaze at the sound, the corner of his lips tilting up in response “I certainly made sure it appeared that way”

Another silence blanketed the two of you as you each digested the others story, Anakin finally breaking it with a soft chuckle “you were an intimidating kid you know that?”

“I was not” you denied it with an easy shake of your head, barely giving the statement any thought.

“you were” he persisted nonetheless “you were the perfect jedi student, Obi-wan was always on me about being more like you. Listening to him better, meditating better, paying more attention in class”

“Bet that didn’t help the whole hating me thing” there was no resentment in your voice, a soft understanding if anything.

“Don’t you get it sweetheart” he smiled sadly “I’ve never hated you. I’m not sure I could if I tried”

You shook your head softly at that, eyes casted out over the alley around you, speaking after another short beat “come on Skywalker, let’s get back to the ship”

Anakin stayed leaned against the wall for another moment, giving himself a pause to study you before he pushed himself up and offered you his arm to help you walk with a small nod.

You hobbled further down the ally with his help, nothing but the sounds of your deep breaths until you spoke in little more than a whisper “you know you were so busy ‘not hating’ me I don’t think I ever got to know the real Anakin Skywalker”

There was a slight pause in his step at your words, his eyes shooting to the side to meet yours as he raised a brow “are you sure you want to?”

“If he’s anything like the man I’ve been around for the past few weeks” you answered with a small shrug “then yeah. I really do”

Anakin’s face broke out into a wide grin at your words, and you found yourself admiring it once again, for the first time your own mind remaining quiet as you did rather than chastising you for it as usual.

“I’ll try not to disappoint Y/N”

You chuckled softly at that, “Given your previous experience you’ve set the bar exceptionally low” you pointed out giving his shoulder a playful shove “ but I’ll hold you to that”

#anakin x reader #anakin skywalker #anakin x you #star wars imagine #star wars x reader #star wars x you #anakin fic #anakin x y/n #anakin imagine #anakin fanfiction #anakin skywalker fi #anakin skywalker imagine #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker x you #anakin skywalker fic #star wars fanfiction #star wars x y/n

[bridenore]

HD Party Games fic recs

Here are a few drarry fic recs in which party games play an important part. Listed in alphabetical order, as always.

Back to You by @aibidil & daisymondays [8k]

The eighth years make Harry and Malfoy go head to head and back to back in a question-and-answer drinking game. The worst that can happen is they end up drunk, right?

Boom Clap (The Sound of My Heart) by @femmequixotic and @noeeon [39k]

Post-war Hogwarts has been energized by its new teaching fellows program. Where once bitter enmity divided the wizarding community, Malfoy and Potter chummily patrol hallways together whilst Granger and Zabini seek lost parts of the castle at McGonagall’s behest and Chang supervises Quidditch when not lecturing in Charms. It’s a veritable wizarding utopia and life is predictable for the first time in years. Which is, of course, when everything blows apart as the result of a drunken dare and Malfoy’s life is ruined beyond his capacity to repair it. Ever. In a million years.

check this hand 'cause I'm marvelous by @lqtraintracks [7k]

Harry's had a crush on Malfoy for months now. But it will take a bar full of his friends, some Firewhisky, wagers made on his behalf, and Malfoy himself to get him to act on it.

Erase the Shame by FleetofShippyShips [6k]

An Inter-House unity party is the last thing Draco wants to go to. It's not long into a game of Truth or Dare when he is reminded why. But maybe his dare is worth it after all.

Exceeds Eggspectations by Elle Gray (LGray) [61k]

Eighth year. Winter. Christmas has been and gone. Harry’s just been dumped and so has Malfoy. There’s a stupid fake baby assignment to be done, and what’s the harm in doing it together, really, when life is this shit already? This is not slow burn, this is a roman candle pointed at a pile of dry twigs that represent your heart.

Games Night by @agentmoppet​ [6k]

Harry has no idea why Hermione decided that an inter-house Games Night would be a good idea, but he’s here now, and he intends to beat Malfoy, no matter what game he chooses. But, who would have thought muggle games could be full of so much... tension?

How to Handle an Enemy by who_la_hoop [7k]

Everyone knows that it’s no fun playing truth or dare with a Slytherin. But add a little Veritaserum, a scheming duo of Slytherin girls and surprising things can be revealed. Particularly about the fine line between love and hate… Turnbout Is Fair Play by who_la_hoop [10k]   After a – cough – revealing game of truth or dare instigated by  his fellow Slytherins, Draco Malfoy finds himself in possession of a).  the interesting knowledge that a certain Gryffindor horror may not be as   immune to his personal charms as hitherto suspected and b). the   password to the Gryffindor Tower. But Draco makes a fundamental error   when he decides to make use of these facts.

Love, Harry by Zzzara [26k]

Harry Potter keeps a huge secret: that scary thing he can’t tell anyone about. Until a mysterious penfriend changes his life, because he keeps a secret, too.

Never Have I Ever Thought That You Might Want Me, Too by @drarrymyheart [8k]

“When it’s his turn, Ron gives Harry an ominous look. “Never have I ever wanted to kiss any of the boys in this room.” Harry freezes. Dean, Seamus, Hermione, Hannah, Pansy, and even Blaise are all immediately lifting their drinks. Malfoy moves to pick his up as well and Harry tracks the movement as if watching in slow-motion…The ridge of Malfoy’s bottle of cider pushes against his lower lip as he takes a sip. Harry nearly groans. Steeling himself, Harry drinks.” Harry and the crew take a ski trip. Harry can’t seem to keep his eyes and thoughts off a certain blonde.

One Night at the Leaky by birdsofshore [41k]

Harry should have known better than to accept a drunken dare. Especially when Malfoy was sitting right there, looking like that and wearing those bloody tight trousers. 

A Perfectly Valid Dare by kitty_fic [5k]

“It’s a perfectly valid dare,” Pansy says, and somehow she looks like she actually believes what she says. “I am not doing that,” Draco insists. He really has no idea when daring someone to wank in Harry Potter’s bed became a perfectly valid dare?

Right Hand Red by @lqtraintracks [73k] 

Harry felt Malfoy’s breath on his lips as they came together over the bottle, hands firmly planted on the floor as though they each needed their familiar soil, refusing to cross into enemy territory. Except that Malfoy no longer felt like his enemy. Malfoy felt inevitable.

Silk Scarves and Enchanted Handcuffs by TommyLane [28k]

It was only supposed to be for seven minutes and then the blindfold would come off and he'd be free from the dark cupboard and his mystery partner - only Harry was no longer sure he wanted it to end.

Starts With a Spin by Maxine [119k]

It started with the spin of a bottle, and now Harry and Draco have gotten themselves so far into their own game there's almost no way out again. Except to keep playing.

Truths, Dares, and Love Affairs by @ronbinary [17k]

NEWTs are approaching, Mind Healing is mandatory, and something is wrong with the castle. And then, there’s Potter.

When I Put My Eyes On You by Zzzara [31k]

When a hero defeats a villain, there’s supposed to be a happily-ever-after… but when did anything ever happen to Harry Potter the way it was supposed to? Having sacrificed himself to the greater good, Harry is left alone in the darkness, blindly groping for the shreds of the life he knew. When the enemies meet, how is the story supposed to go, once they learn there’s more to it than the eye can see? A story of pain, hope and things we discover, once we stop looking for them with our eyes.

where all the veins meet by eight_of_wands [146k]

It’s the summer of 1998. The battle is over, and Voldemort is dead, but Harry still has more questions than answers. Who is he without a piece of Voldemort’s soul in his head? What is he supposed to do now? His friends try to help, but the only thing that can hold his attention—one of the only things that ever has—is Draco Malfoy, out on parole and weirdly hanging around the British Museum. As they keep running into each other, Harry sees that Malfoy is different, and he wonders if he can be someone else, too. Featuring rumpled band shirts, poker games everyone hates, fumbling sex, and a Harry going a little mental over how wands even work.

I hope you enjoy these stories as much as I did!

#my recs #drarry #drarry recs #theme rec

[theredofoctober]

The Sand Violet: A Fallout Dark Fic

Cooper Howard (The Ghoul) x Mute Female Reader fic

Synopisis: The Ghoul known as Cooper Howard kidnaps Reader in an attempt to sell her for medicine. When she escapes and humiliates him he has his revenge.

The Reader insert is female and mute. Other features not described

TW and CW: noncon/rape, violence, death, cannibalism

Words: 6,899

Read after the cut ✂️

It’s quiet in Filly, or as quiet as it gets, the afternoon so hot as to bake the earth dark and to drive its milling residents back indoors.

Store holders draw their shutters down against the sun and crouch, noiseless with exhaustion, over whatever toil pays their way in the world.

Dogs loll snoring in doorways, and bartenders find themselves elbowing old punters aside to serve the new and many stumbling in to wet their mouths and take refuge from the warm.

You and your husband, Gray, idle in one of several junk shops in town, having little else to do until the heatwave dwindles into night.

A thick-shouldered man sits drowsily at the front desk, squinting as you traipse about his wares for your fourth or fifth rotation of the room.

“Clear out if you ain’t tradin’,” he mutters, but as you loiter with stubborn aversion to the sucking heat beyond his doorstep the man does not rise to chase you out.

Gray lays a gentle hand on the crook of your arm.

“Let’s go pretend to be interested in that thing over there,” he murmurs. “Keep the old guy happy.”

Talking Gray’s elbow, you obey, looking at his turned, freckled cheek with a want to kiss it. You’re as in love as two people can be in such times, and though the days are hard and the nights harder still, with Gray they do not feel so.

You sleep rough in sand dunes together, eat canned fruit with one spoon between you over fires you put out before the radroaches come.

Tonight you’ll find a bar and drink with what stray caps you’ve each left in your satchels, and later lie as one until the sun scrapes the night away, still tasting the rum on one another’s breath.

Or so it would have been, had fate not cracked a backhand blow across your hopeful faces.

The junkshop door bangs open against the wall, setting its bells thrashing in an angry fairy chorus. As a mean silhouette moves into the light like an eye gouged from the face of God Gray steps ahead of you by instinct, his right hand grazing the knife at his belt.

“Ah, shit,” says the shopkeeper, half-rising from his seat. “You ain’t allowed in here.”

“Says who?” drawls the stranger, kicking the door shut behind him. “I know you ain’t about to get your ass up and stop me, Davey, else the taste of lead’s startin’ to sound mighty flavoursome to you.”

Davey sits down slowly, his broad face wincing and resigned.

The newcomer is a hairless man in an ancient cowboy hat and a coat whose tatters trail, wisp-like, at the spurs of his boots. His face is like that of a red moon, sunken and cratered, and without a nose to speak of, his skull gleaming with the scars of some ancient burn.

A ghoul.

You know of such creatures, so changed by radiation that some no longer think them men, though they are human, still, for all their deviance from that race.

The stranger’s dark eyes switch the store with a slow calculation, dismissing its contents before turning at last to Gray and to your shielded figure behind him.

“I heard there was two Vaulties in town,” says the Ghoul. “And lucky me: I just happened upon them.”

“We’re not Vault Dwellers,” Gray says, curtly. “Not anymore.”

Six months ago he’d gotten into a fight with another man he’d perceived to have disrespected you, and had been turned out of the Vault on that account. You had followed, seeing no life there without your husband, though you knew little then of what lay beyond.

Quickly you and Gray had learned the way of the wastes, casting much of what softness you’d had aside but that which you held for one another.

Evidently it is not enough, for the Ghoul looks at your husband with a grin full of sly yellow teeth.

“Hell, look at you,” he says. “Those hands of yours are as tender as a new-born’s. Once a Vaultie, always a Vaultie. You ain’t built to step outside those fish tanks you lock yourselves up in.”

The Ghoul turns to peer at you, his eyes narrowed to earthen slits as Gray pushes you further behind him.

“What do you want with us, anyway?” Gray asks. “We’re just minding our business trying to live up here, same as anybody else.”

Sneering, the Ghoul says, “Yeah, well, let’s see how long that lasts. Now who’s this shrinkin' violet you’re trying so damn hard to hide from me?”

He shunts Gray aside with one rude shoulder and stands over you, eyeing you up and down as he might a saloon whore, his hands resting at his belt.

You’re glad of the cotton dress that covers you from throat to boot top, allowing him nothing of the skin that restless stare likely seeks.

“Now, ain’t you pretty,” says the Ghoul. “What’s your name, sugar?”

Trembling with anger, Gray says, “Leave her alone.”

The Ghoul shifts his jaw in an irritable motion.

“I ain’t talkin’ to you, kid. I’m askin’ her.”

“She can’t talk,” says Gray, and you nod at the Ghoul, who tips his hat back from the crenellation of his brow in mock surprise.

“That so?”

With a trembling hand you sign, yes.

“Sorry, sweetie, I don’t speak your language.”

“She’s mute,” says Gray, quietly. “Has been since she was a baby.”

You echo the statement with cradled arms, and the Ghoul’s head tilts aside like a jackal watching a man die at some lofty distance.

“So you’re tellin’ me this beautiful lady right here can’t make no noise?” he asks, slowly. “Well, ain’t that convenient. See, I’m lookin’ to make some easy money, and as it so happens there’s a whole lot of folks chompin’ at the bit to buy a woman of just that description.”

The Ghoul seizes you by the arms with a motion so sudden that you do not protest, only stumble against him, feeling a sash of bullets like some torn out length of spinal cord upon your own.

“You’re comin’ along with me, darlin’,” says the Ghoul. “Hope you don’t mind.”

His breath is hot against your ear, smelling of cigarettes and some strange chemical.

“You’re not taking her anywhere!” snaps Gray, his lean frame tense with fury. “That’s my wife!”

The Ghoul looks sideways at him, his narrow lips upturned.

“Not no more she ain’t.”

Gray pulls his knife from his belt and lunges forwards, halting only at the raised snout of a gun protruding from the Ghoul’s calm grip.

Davey stands up once more, yelling and waving one arm ineffectually.

“Hey now! Hey now!”

Caught up between two men you find yourself oddly collected, as though by desperation fear has made you the sole point of calm.

Perhaps the Ghoul feels the racket of your heart against your bones; it does not matter. You cannot allow Gray to know it beats so, nor to bound, reckless, into a bullet on your behalf

Looking into the jailhouse madness of your husband’s eyes, you sign, I’ll go with him. I’ll get away. I’ll find you. I love you.

Gray flinches, and sheathing his knife, he says hoarsely, “She says she’ll travel with you. Don’t let her get hurt.”

Davey drops to his seat in palpable relief, a single vein writhing like an albino snake along his forehead.

The Ghoul tucks his gun away with a satisfied ease, his other arm still clamping you to him.

“Oh, I won’t let a soul leave a scratch on her,” he says. “’Cause if they did she wouldn’t be worth shit to me.”

He twists you ahead of him, nudging your ankle with the toe of his boot.

“Come on, Violet,” he says, as you attempt to look back at Gray over your shoulder. “We got places to be.”

As he propels you out of the store you hear Davey half-whisper, “What hell were you thinkin' pullin' a knife on him, kid? That’s Cooper Howard, for fuck’s sake.”

The Ghoul pauses abruptly, as though jerking from the dream of some sunken childhood horror.

“Ain’t gone by that name in years,” he says, gruffly. “Don’t you go raisin’ the dead.”

Then he jostles you onwards, and the sound of his spurs and the closing door become the same funeral song.

*

The Ghoul directs you through the town into a quarter of parched woodland, his gun trained lazily at your back. He speaks little, only snapping occasionally at your unrushed pace, which through dull spite you’ve no interest to change.

The shock of your abduction morphs into a watchful cunning in which you await your moment to revolt, your silence lending greatly to the effect of submission.

Still, you are not trusted to fall behind or even aside of your ruthless captor. The Ghoul has likely walked a hundred cringing hostages to their demise at organ shops or dens of ill repute, and from those journeys knows what tricks he might expect from even so pliant a charge.

In time you’re driven on into desert terrain that goes on unbroken for miles, the afternoon heat crushing strength and moisture from you like the blood of some small animal mercy-killed beneath a stone.

That land, as you have glimpsed before, is wrought of death and casual evil.

You see one man dragging another on a leash, the latter’s knees worn through to the bone from crawling so long in the wastes.

You see ferals beheaded and lashed to sun-bleached fences, only letters marked by stones in the earth denoting what, in life, they’d been.

You see a pack of dogs eating a woman’s entrails in the remains of an old shack, one of which raises its head to watch you pass with one viscous eye like the orb of some addled sorceress.

The Ghoul observes all with the same grim cynicism, smirking occasionally, as though gleaning something blackly comic from this show of ugliness.

He only stops when the sun collides with the skyline, setting up camp in what remains of an old gas station.

You loiter by an old pump, thinking that to run or to attack the Ghoul outright would not end in your favour.

Rising from his work, The Ghoul says, “Come here, darlin’. Let’s see if you have any weapons on you.”

You shake your head, thinking of the knife in your boot and the others in your satchel as the last thread by which you might escape.

Please, you sign. I need them.

The Ghoul strides across the camp and outstretches a leather clad palm.

“Hand ‘em over or I’ll pat you down and take ‘em myself. You’ll be waitin’ for the chance to gut me in my sleep. I ain’t takin” no chances with you, sweetie. “

When you hold back he snatches a handful of your dress and begins a rough search of your body, feeling you all over from breasts to groin with a scowl on his wizened lips.

It’s only when he raises your skirt to retrieve the bowie knife from the back of your boot that something of ordinary male desire crosses his face, his stare crawling the smooth plane of your calf.

He does not touch it, though from the stillness of his observation you perceive that he would like to.

“Gimme that satchel,” says the Ghoul, gruffly. “Let’s see what you got in there.”

He rifles through tinned food and RadAway until he finds the three blades sewn into the lining of your bag.

“That’s one hell of an artillery, Violet. You know how to use all this?”

You nod shortly.

“Well, at least that’s somethin’,” says the Ghoul, and he dumps the open bag into the earth. “Pays to know how to survive in this place.”

Producing a length of rope from somewhere under his coat he takes hold of your wrists and binds them, ignoring your mouthed words of dismay.

“I’ve seen you eyeing that desert,” he says, “tryin’ to figure out if you can slip past me. You might not talk, but your face sure does a lot of yappin’ for you.”

Satisfied with the knot, The Ghoul sits on an upturned barrel and hefts a flask of water to his mouth. Your cracked tongue pushes forth in hopeless want of moisture, watching beads of it run in a careless spill upon his chin.

Catching your eye, the Ghoul says, “Want something, Vaultie?”

With knotted hands you gesture to the flask. Sneering, the Ghoul takes another noisy mouthful of water and pours the rest onto a grimy rag with which he wipes his face, a waste of precious contraband.

You turn away, refusing him your despair.

“Here, sweetie,” says The Ghoul, gesturing the sopping fabric. “You want water? Come get what’s left of this.”

Still you do not look at him, attempting not to think of the liquid falling drop by silver drop upon the sand.

The Ghoul scoffs.

“Think you’re too good for it, huh? Well, you ain’t gettin��� anythin’ else all night. Maybe not tomorrow, neither. So come on, Violet. Drink while you can.”

He tugs the rope cuffing your wrists until you’re forced to your knees and holds the cloth to your lips, allowing the water to drip between them. Thirst awakened, you snatch a corner of the scrap in your teeth and suck the fabric dry, aware of the Ghoul’s eyes upon you.

“Now ain’t that a pretty sight,” he says. “Just for that I’ll give you a little more.”

He takes the flask from your own bag and again soaks the filthy cloth. This time you rip it from his hand and squeeze its contents down your throat with knotted hands as though pulping some browned fruit.

“You got spirit, Vaultie,” says the Ghoul, drying his hands on his coat. “I can see you ain’t gonna be easy to tame. But I’ve had dogs before. You ain’t no different.”

Snatching the cloth back, he shoves you into the dirt with a boot squared to your chest.

“See, I told that husband of yours I wouldn’t let you get hurt, but that don’t stop me teachin’ you a lesson, sweetheart. Just as long as I don’t leave a mark on you your value won’t shift a dime.”

You lie on your side, breathless and hateful, watching through half-open eyes as the Ghoul slouches nearby to settle in for the night.

“Get some shut-eye, Violet,” he says. “We got another day or so of walking ahead of us.”

You keep sentinel for hours, not trusting his appearance of sleep. Once, when you inch away from the Ghoul across camp, the rope at your wrists is tugged smartly taut as he reels you in across the sand.

“Stay close,” he says, opening one eye to squint at you through the dark. “I ain’t riskin’ somethin’ eatin’ you out here. What the fuck would I sell then?”

*

You awake to the Ghoul’s hand on your shoulder, turning you onto your back as though to identify a cadaver. From the luggage draped on his shoulder you guess he’s keen to leave, compelled by some urgency not yet detailed.

“You hungry?” he asks. “I ain’t openin’ the cans till we need ‘em, but I’ve do have this.”

You glance at the strips of dehydrated meat hung from his bag and shake your head, thinking how easily it might be the flesh of a man, being that the eating of them in the wastes is not uncommon.

“Don’t say I never offered,” says the Ghoul. “I’d wager you’ll be beggin’ for it in a couple of hours.”

As he pulls you to your feet you reach towards him with your wrists, mouthing a plea to be released.

“Now, you know I can’t do that, sunshine,” says the Ghoul, not without humour. “I must have heard that one a hundred times.”

Just one. Please.

The cowboy hums under his breath, thumbing the knot that joins your arms in a display of consideration.

“What do you need a hand for, Violet?”

You shift in discomfort, and to your relief the Ghoul gets the message.

“Alright. You get two minutes to do your business. Then we’re on the road.”

Slipping your dominant hand free of the lasso he turns in the other direction, whistling as you squat in the dirt. You’re coldly surprised that he allows you this dignity.

Once both arms are unified by the rope the Ghoul nudges you before him into the desert again, uncaring of the limp you’ve developed in your fatigue.

On your way you pass a church, repaired after the bomb by some follower of that old religion, or else inherited by the new.

Beyond it lies a boneyard, brittle skeletons set up like headstones across the plane.

There are wandering salesmen naming their wares in croaking shouts as they wheel forth shopping carts before them. There are hardened men and women the Ghoul claims are bandits, firing warning shots before they get close enough to attack.

“They’d eat you up, doll,” he drawls, cleaning off his gun. “Right down to those pretty white bones.”

You cross paths with groups of whores who lift their low-cut dresses and holler at your captor, who tips his hat, but otherwise ignores their attempts to woo him. Families stagger along with children whose faces are like rotting taxidermy, mutated, or else merely warped by whatever horrors they’ve encountered on their endless walk.

At the bottom of a sloping dune you come across the remnants of a massacre, bodies cut down into gelatinous morsels afloat on a lake of blood. When you halt, trembling, at its edges the Ghoul spits at your feet.

“What’s the matter, Vaultie? Don’t you know your Great-Great-Grandpappy and Grandmamma had a hand in making the world the way it is? Your ancestors didn’t give two shits what happened to the rest of us. That blood’s on your hands, darlin’.”

You stare at him without comprehension, thinking how closely his visage resembles the dead.

Suddenly the Ghoul bends over in the throes of a coughing fit, one hand scrabbling in his bag for a vial of liquid he decants into his mouth with a feverish need. He stoops, gasping, for some time, his lashes fluttering helplessly.

As you stare on it occurs to you that you know of this illness, the thing that chars the minds of ghouls away with its dread madness.

It makes Cooper weak, and thus you know what you must watch for in him to slip his hold.

*

That night, camped out beneath a blasted tree, the Ghoul coughs again, a wheeze like that of some punctured machine at work. As he falls sideways, his hands spidering for his pack, you see the precious bottles of elixir skid across the dirt out of his reach.

Starving, half-crazed with tiredness and thirst, you drag yourself up with aid of the tree and approach the Ghoul, watching his face upturn in desolate recognition of what you mean to do.

First you snatch the bags from him, finding a knife to cut your tethers. You spread your hands, gasping at their stiffness as you roll the joints.

Being untrained in the use of firearms you carry his gun to a patch of scrub and throw it amidst the foliage, far from sight. If he turns feral he will not think of it; if he survives the fit it will at least take him time to recover.

The Ghoul’s eyes prod your back with bleak resentment as you work.

Returning to the fallen man, you point your boot at the three glass bottles left of his supply.

You want them? You sign.

The Ghoul nods; you see that he expects nothing, and that lends you a cruel edge of power.

Taking care to look into his browless gaze you raise one boot and smash the vials beneath it, letting their contents leech away into the sand. Still the Ghoul inches forward in an attempt to lick it from the dirt, forgoing his dignity in the face of survival, as is surely his habit.

You draw back a foot and kick sand into his raddled face, burying the last of his medicine in its spray.

Fuck you, you tell him. You son of a bitch.

Then you turn and begin the long walk back to Filly, and to Gray.

*

You march, bow-legged with muscle cramp and blistered ankles, both day and night, pausing only to take your RadAway or drink from the flasks the Ghoul had filled at a well the day before. The dried meat you devour in segments, knowing that you must make your food stock last, or else starve before you reach civilisation.

You no longer care where the strips came from, or tell yourself that you do not. Guilt will inhibit your survival, and you’ve seen enough of the land to acknowledge that all men here are for themselves.

On the second day of solitary travel you are followed by a grinning stranger attracted to your stumbling vulnerability. He whispers as though to a lost love as he shadows you, licking at his mouth with his cracked tongue, one hand in his pocket, upon his cock or a blade, their end all the same to you.

You have not killed before, but from what you’ve known in your six months beyond the Vault you are sure in your knife hand as you turn on him and slit his throat. It is as though some sun burned doppelganger commits the act, so little do you feel as he spills, gargling, into the earth.

Only later, taking rest in a rundown cabin, do you look at your killing arm and wonder that it has taken you so long in the desert to have spilt your first blood. You are not sorry for the stranger, knowing from his mutterings what he would have done with you beneath him.

Still, you feel yourself altered, knighted by death as its champion.

In the morning the man’s body is gone, dragged away from the road by animals, or else by people so like them that their differences are irrelevant.

You begin to ask passers-by if they have seen your husband, all of which shake their heads, or send you on false leads that weary you to the point of sickness in their length.

There is no doubt that Gray would have followed you here; his overzealous sense of morality would not abide the notion of remaining behind. Yet there seems no trace of him in this thankless land, and through your savage tutelage in its ways you doubt that you will find him.

The miles are eaten by your splitting boots, and yet more come, as though in some sequence from nightmare they will never conclude, only expand into a formless frontier. You’re in such pain from walking that you can think of nothing but its grip upon you, raising one foot after the other only through the terror that in resting you may never rise again.

It’s afternoon when you come upon the old church once more, pale as a dead tooth in the gum of the horizon. You lope towards the double doors and knock, hankering after the cool shade within.

An elderly man answers, peering out at you without expression. There is a gun in his hand, aimed in a discreet fashion at your stomach.

Raising your palms, you mouth, Safe. I need shelter.

The old man lowers his gun without apology.

“I see. Come on in, sister. I’ll see about finding you something to drink.”

You are led through a hall in which rows of dirty wooden pews face the carved figure of a martyr nailed to a cross. His carved eyes seem to dog you as you sit and accept a cup of water as though judging you for the sin of taking a life.

You look back at him, dispassionate, untouched by He you do not worship.

The priest asks, “You’re troubled, sister. What is it you’re looking for out here?”

Taking a notepad and the worn-down stub of a pencil out of your bag you write, I’m looking for my husband. His name is Gray Freeland. He’s tall. Blue eyes. Freckles. He’s from a Vault. You’d know him.

The old man reads slowly, following the text with his finger.

“Well,” he says. “I haven’t seen many living folks pass through here in a long time. Mostly I keep my doors locked, since the only people I do see are man eaters. Wildmen.

“Just the other day I chased a few of them off a body they were dragging along, thinking to cut pieces from it whenever they were hungry, I suppose. I brought the poor man into the crypt so as I could give him a decent burial.”

Again you glance at the man on the cross and see that he is weeping. Your own eyes are dry, raw from the sand winds, a travelling cynic’s.

Take me to see the body, you write, and the old priest leads you down a narrow stairway like the coil of a shell into a cool basement of stone.

On a slab there lies a corpse, the ribs opened out and plucked clean of organs, the face half devoured, marks left on the skull from scraping teeth.

The other eye, the sloping cheekbone. These, intact, you know.

“You recognise this man?” asks the old man. “Is he your husband?”

You don’t answer, just look at the body as you did the massacre, stunned beyond grief by the cruelty of the wastes.

In the notebook you write, I want a funeral for him. A burial.

“You weren’t parted from your husband by the hand of God alone,” says the priest. “Someone came between you two.”

Yes, you say. The Ghoul. Cooper Howard. He wanted to sell me for caps, or medicine, I think. I ran away.

A twitch tugs the old man’s eye like a fishing line.

You write, you know this Ghoul.

“Yes. Everyone around these parts has heard of him. He’s a brutal man. He’s killed women, children, anyone to get what he wants. If he has any sort of code at all then it’s not one I know of.”

You stare into the eye of your dead lover and inherit from it his resolve to go on.

I should leave. If the Ghoul survived, then he may come here.

Placing a veined hand on yours, the priest asks, “What did you do to him, sister?”

Not enough.

*

You stay at the church overnight, given a meal of salted meat and hard bread, and a bath in a vast tin tub. You sleep on a palette bed in a back room with clean sheets, and drink cool water that tastes only of minerals, and not the filth of the wastes.

Yours is a slumber like that of the sick, or the long dead.

Then at first daylight you’re back on the road again, forced to leave your husband’s body to rot in its chill crypt.

With no purpose but to live you trundle forth past the grotesque landmarks that distinguish each stretch of earth from the other, walk until your boots are blood soaked and your hips ache like a crone’s.

Only when your knees give out do you resign yourself to set up camp by a defunct railroad, warming a tin of soup over a pitiful fire. You think almost of nothing as you drink, beaten flat as an ancient coin by the afternoon sun and the grinding nature of your suffering.

Slumped on an old box, you look at the fire, like some offshoot of your skyward enemy, and yearn for the cool of the Vault.

Footsteps crunch in the sand at your back, and a soft male voice says, “Now there’s my shrinkin' violet. Sittin’ out here all alone.”

Before you can dart away a weight strikes the middle of your back, pitching you into the dirt in a clumsy sideways roll. Winded, you find yourself peering up into the ravaged features of the Ghoul, and think that Death in his ragged coat could not appear so cruel.

“You’re tougher than I gave you credit for, sweetie,” he says, conversationally. “Meaner, too. Where’d that holier than fuckin’ thou Vault attitude go to?”

He must have hidden some vials amidst his clothes, enough to revive him from his lunacy. You had not thought to check his pockets, absorbed as you were in your revenge.

The Ghoul strips you of your weapons, tutting at the banality of routine. Then he looks down at how you’ve fallen, legs apart, your prairie dress gathered up like a tangled net about your knees, and notices the undergarments cupped with sweat to the cut of your cunt.

You see, then, a stain of thought spread through him like a thirst for blood, his eyes as black as the charred stumps of headless ferals you’d seen roped to fencing on the road.

“Well, now,” says the Ghoul. “Least I’ve figured out a way you can pay me back for all them vials you stomped on.”

His voice is low, a purr of heated malice.

With the nose of his gun he lifts your skirts up to your thighs and nudges the barrel against your cunt, Vault regulation underwear done away with in one taunting motion.

“Get up, doll,” says the Ghoul. “I’m gonna do something that dumbfuck husband of yours probably never did and teach you how to ride.”

He sits down on the wooden crate and gestures with his weapon for you to rise.

“Come on, Violet. Get that old dress off and take a seat.”

He pats his thigh, and you shake your head, signing with frantic hands.

No. No. Not this. I’m married.

He doesn’t yet know of your husband’s death, it seems, for when you gesture to your wedding ring the Ghoul’s expression sours.

“I had a wife like you, once,” he says. “Soft skin, and real beautiful, like a movie star. And just like you she screwed me over, so pardon me if I don’t take the sanctity of marriage too seriously no more.”

He moves the gun again, his fingers approaching the trigger.

“Now do what I said. If you make me shoot you I’ll be sure to hit you some place it’ll hurt. You want that, sweetheart?”

You glance over your shoulder at a universe of sand, contemplating how far you’d get before the Ghoul put a bullet in your back. Perhaps he’d let you run a bit for idle fun before he shot you down.

It’s as you’re thinking this that a weight falls about your neck and the Ghoul yanks you to him by a lead of rope, half throttling you in his malice.

“Damn it, Vaultie, you ain’t runnin’ out on your payment,” he says, coolly. “I ought to whip the skin off your hide for what you did.”

You’d be nose to nose with the Ghoul, if he still had one. In his irises you see your own face, still human, so unlike his. The beauty of it has taunted this man like water the many thirsting in the Wasteland, a mirage made real, and now owed to him through your slight upon his person.

It scares you, that bitter lust. He might kill you through the thing he means to do.

Stilled by one gloved fist on the lasso, you daren’t struggle as the Ghoul peels your dress up over your head, blinkering you with the fabric. His free hand trails from your quivering throat to both breasts, taking his time with the exploration.

He wants the glove off; you feel it in the labour with which he draws a path between your thighs, near awed by the delicacy of you against him.

You wrestle the dress off your head and glare with a spiteful terror into his scarred carapace.

“How’d a pure little Vault dweller like you change so fast?” asks The Ghoul, almost in admiration. “The Wasteland ain’t barely started with you yet. Maybe you loved that boy so much it drove you crazy. Used to be songs about that, as I recall. Songs about men like me, too, and what we do when we’re crossed by snakes like yourself.”

You sign you deserved what I did to you with expressions and hard gestures he understands.

“I admit I played with you a little,” says the Ghoul. “’Cause when I see a green, pretty girl like you I want to screw you into the dirt like a smoke. Just about the only way you’ll learn how things really are when you’re in a tough spot in the Wasteland.”

He spits on his gloved fingers and bars them between your folds, watching with his head inclined as you stiffen up in pain and disgust at his entry.

“Well,” he says. “Now I know what I ought to drink when I’m runnin’ low on water.”

You think to strike him, but the lasso is braided across your windpipe merely at the flash of your eye.

“Don’t be stupid now, Violet. I know you’re a smart girl. I’d hate for you to prove me wrong.”

He takes his gloves off with his teeth and spits them in the sand. With one bare palm he touches you all over, the rasp of his strange skin like grit against your own. The other hand struggles with the opening of his pants, starving to have them open.

“What’s the matter?” asks the Ghoul, as you look down at his cock, which is as coarse as the rest of him. “Ain’t nothing to be scared of.”

He tests your opening with two fingers, and you convulse with a silent agony at their insertion, and the betrayal.

“Aw, now come on now, sweetheart. It ain’t that bad. Still, I’d use that mouth of yours instead, only I know you’d bite like a mare.”

His skull-like features press close to yours. He smells of smoke, of sweat, as most men do in the Wasteland.

“Now open those legs of yours and sit,” says the Ghoul, “before I pick some other hole.”

When you merely stare in sickened mutiny he forces you up onto his lap. You cringe as he punctures your cunt with his length, twice that of your husband’s, breaking you upon him like the bones of an enemy.

The Ghoul looks at you from under half lids, his lashes as lush and beautiful as black reeds, a surprising feature amidst such ruin.

“Hurts, don’t it?” he asks. “That’s what you get for crossin’ a fella in these parts.”

He ducks down and licks the sweat off your tits up to your neck, smacking his lips with a pop.

“Salt and tequila. Making me miss the good old days.”

You grip his tattered coat for stability as he jounces you on his cock, thinking of the sinewy flesh under his collar, wondering if your blunt little white teeth could prise out a vein. Wondering if he still bleeds like a man, or gives but dust.

“Come on, now, little lady,” says the Ghoul. “Why ain’t you putting in no work? Get to it.”

He slaps your flank, but you don’t move, in too much pain from walking and the girth of him to do much but wince as in the rhythm of his arms you fall and fall upon it.

“Hope you ain’t tired already,” says the Ghoul. “We’re just warmin’ up.”

You mouth ‘ugly’ into his face, emphasising the syllables.

Your attacker leers.

“That may be, but you’re still wet for me, ain’t you? Maybe you ain’t so opposed to fuckin’ a ghoul as you let on.”

Enraged, you try to spit at him, cannot rally enough moisture to defile the smirking cheek.

“Don’t waste your water, Violet,” says the Ghoul. “I sure won’t be loanin’ you any.”

He turns you on his lap, one arm across your breasts, another at your hip, squeezing the meat there with lusting appreciation. You struggle in his hold, your joints like troughs of magma, and the Ghoul laughs against your neck.

“Still want to fight, huh? Ain’t no skin off my back.”

The Ghoul shoves you forward into the earth, and you roll there together like men. With ease he could overpower you, yet he allows you your digs and attempts to inch out from under him for the sake of some bastard fairness.

His heat, his heaviness upon you incurs a panicked need to buck him from your back. You almost succeed, except the Ghoul yanks you to him through the dirt and stones like a prisoner drawn and quartered.

Then, turning you under him, he casts a palm full of sand into your face, watching you choke and fight to rub the grains from your eyes with a vindicated pleasure.

“You know, Violet,” he says, “I may not speak your signs, but I can read some. There was a deaf fella out in Truth or Consequences I used to have dealings with, and I picked up plenty from him. I know you’ve been cussin’ and cursin’ me since the day we met. Makes it all the better knowing I can fuck you.”

Again he fills you with the rot of his existence, growling as he does so, a gleeful torturer at work. You kick at him with your boot heels as you might some mad horse, but he keeps at you, unrelenting, his grinning teeth like the cracked plains of soil after drought.

The friction of the Ghoul within you, rough skin to the soft, builds a cave there in which pain shambles out as something else.

He groans as he feels that change around him, wetness in a land so absent of it. Not once in this attack had he intended your desire, had expected only your abjection on the pumice of his want. His hands go back to your body then, to your breasts, your outstretched neck, and he touches you as a husband might, as he did his own bride, long ago.

You bury your fingers into the burning sand and pray to what God, if any, rules the wastes. By now you know Him as a man, not the weeping idol of crucifixion but one of greed and brutal caprice.

Climax—yours and the Ghoul’s—ride together like two prey animals grown to hunt in symbiosis, his just ahead of yours. He fucks you with his half-hard cock until you cease motion around him, and still does not pull loose.

The way he looks at you no man ever has, not even the rough ilk of Filly.

The Ghoul’s eyes are hellfire and tenderness; he had loved a woman like you, and hasn’t forgotten who he’d been when he’d done so. But he can love like that no longer, and though there’s something nearly gentle in the way he moves to cup your face in his hand you are only appalled by the radiance of his desire.

The fight snaps free of you in a bracing instant, and the Ghoul watches it go. Watches your face in all the motions of defeat.

“Those lips of yours,” he croons. “Even cherry pie ain’t sweeter. Now I’ve got to have me a taste.”

Then he kisses you, softly, at first, after the ripping winds of his fucking, and then with a grunt like some rooting boar he sets at you with the aggression of before, consuming you with tongue and borderless mouth until what thought there was of past romance is chipped from the gravestone of him.

The Ghoul’s hat fell off sometime in the scuffle; as he rises again you see that the weird planes of his skull are beautiful, as the rest of him must once have been.

Like some Martian fiend he appears as he crouches over your quivering nakedness, tugging your gown back on over your head as though dressing a stiff little corn doll.

“Now we’re just about even,” says the Ghoul. “And if you put even a foot wrong I’ll keep on evening that score.”

He sets about tying the lasso about your neck to a stake of wood in the dirt. That done, he sits back on the box and looks at you again, dusting his hat off absently with one hand.

You stare through him and up at the bile of deities that is the golden afternoon sky.

“Now you’re gettin’ it, Violet,” says the Ghoul. “The Wasteland ain’t no place for a Vaultie housewife like yourself.”

Later, one of your hands outstretches to pen letters in the sand.

I-A-M-A-W-I-D-O-W.

The Ghoul blinks.

“Well, shit. And there I was thinkin’ I’d wrecked a decent home.”

S-H-O-O-T-M-E.

“After all the fussin’ I’ve been through to get you back you ain’t goin’ nowhere. And don’t try to kill yourself, neither. I sleep with one eye open. You’re worth more to me alive, and I ain’t about to forget it.”

The Ghoul lies down beside you, arms folded under his head, content in the desert’s justice.

Only when the night slaps like a dripping cloth over you both does he speak to you again.

“I ain’t gonna sell you, Violet. You better learn to earn your keep.”

#the ghoul #the ghoul x reader #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard #fallout tv series #fallout fic #darkfic #dead dove do not eat #tw cannibalism #tw noncon #tw rape #tw violence #inspired by Blood Meridian #angst

[fairy-hub]

𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐭, 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐧𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐲

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: quiet nerd!pleasure dom!choso, heavy praise/light degradation, dacryphilia, choso has a size kink, choso’s pov, oral (giving and receiving), knife play/no blood, light pain kink, pussy drunk/obsessed choso, squirting, fingering, light begging, light choking

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 @vampress7; Hi baby girl I hope you’re doing well, I have an idea: nerdy, loner, and unassuming freak choso who absolutely wrecks reader after class during a study session ((I need this so badly))

‘He is wearing those sweat pants, I keep sneaking glances at his cock, I wanna see it. No need to see it, I'm dying of thirst! He can feed me his cum! I don't really care much for giving blow jobs but something about Choso makes me wanna gobble his cock till he is a whiny mess.’

‘Damn ily but you’re down too bad for a man you haven't even touched.’

‘I cant help it! Have you seen Choso?! I want to hear how he sounds when he cums.’

‘Aren’t yall supposed to study for friday’s exam you can’t fail this one!’

Writen in your text bar; ‘its hard to focus on what he’s saying. Choso’s thick arms in his black muscle t-shirt’

Choso’s cheeks are burning, his ego swelling, nerves churning, and disbelief whispering. Sliding his fingers through his hair, there is no denying you want him.

Glancing down at his cock, perfectly outlined by his thin sweats. His cock is getting warmer, longer, and thicker with each soft pulse. If you want his cock, you can have it any way you’re willing to take it.

You come back holding the fuzzy stripped criminal. “He broke my lamp, got it cleaned up but he’s ground.” You bend over for Jasper to jump to the floor, running away from you with his fluffy tail in the air.

Your shorts rising up your soft ass. “I’d hit ya from the back if I didn't want to see the face you make when you take my fat cock first the first time.” Your beautiful eyes widen, locking onto your phone in his hands.

Grabbing his hard cock, stroking himself through his sweats. You glance down. “Im torn between wanting to fuck that bratty mouth outta ya and eating you out till you’re trembling.” Your mouth looks so sweet and fuckable. You’d look so beautiful sucking his cock with tears running down your face.

“For me to be a good teacher I need to help you focus. If I help you cum will you pay attention more. We can snuggle while we study.” Holding your phone out for you to grab. Quickly discarding it on the coffee table.

His heart beating faster when you get on your knees in front of him. “If you were paying attention to the text then you’d know,” tugging his sweatpants down, “I won't be able to pay attention until I hear what sounds come out of that pretty mouth of yours.”

Moaning when you grab his cock, your hand soft, in your hand his cock has never looked so big before. “You can hear me moaning in your soft cunt. I don't think you understand nnn!” Loudly moaning when you take his cock into your hot wet mouth.

Bobbing your head, taking him deeper with slow strokes soothing the uncomfortable tighteness building in his of his cock. “Honeybun I jerked off to the thought of eating you out before comin’.” Cupping your cheek, jerking hips fucking your soft wet mouth.

“Been slutting you out in my head since ya walked into class.” Choso leans his head back, sliding his fingers through his soft dark hair. “We can do both, Im dying to taste ya sloppy cunt. I'll gag you with my fat cock nnnn oh fuck that’s iiittt! Grabbing a handful of your hair, fucking your soft mouth till spit is dripping down your chin.

Choso is getting off on your beautiful eyes sparkling with tears that trickle down your cheeks. “Are ya gonna be my whore help me take care of my fat cock?” Pulling you off his cock with a soft pop. His too heavy to stand up, hitting his cock.

Grabbing his cock, smacking his tip on your lips. “Wish it stood up, but what can ya do?” He knees wobble when you cup his balls. Lovingly kissing along his cock, easing the ache and tension, with sweet soft pleasure.

Your hand feels so good, his cock softly tingling. Smiling up at him. He can feel his heartbeat in the quickly pulse of his cock. “You’re so perfectly thick and heavy that you hang, nothing wrong with that handsome.” Licking up his cock, swirling your tongue around his fat head. He groans when watches himself slip inside.

Letting go of your hair, slipping his hands beneath your shoulders. Picking you up, you wrap your soft thighs around his waist. He feels strong holding you close, keeping you safe. “Gonna take good care of you, and your sloppy cunt.”

Squeezing your ass, carrying you with one hand. You grab a handful of his hair, and a tingle shoots down his spine when he feels your nails. “Bedroom is the last room on the right.” Taking you down the hall. “Please all I want is you. Wanna be your whore, ruin anyone else for me with your fat cock.” Trailing loving kissing along his jaw, his cheeks burning.

Opening and shutting the door behind himself. “Ill show you how badly I've been needing ya.” Gently setting you down, closing your curtains. Taking his shirt off, dropping it on the floor.

You’re making quick work of taking your shirt and shorts off. Admiring your beautiful body Choso forgets everything he’s doing. You give him one thought when you spread your legs showing him your soft wet cunt.

He needs to make you cum.

Kneeling, grabbing your soft thighs putting them over his shoulder. “So so so beautiful.” Kissing your soft clit, gently sucking, steadily stroking you with his tongue. Making sure his barbell rubs your clit with his swipe.

Nudging a thick finger into your tight cunt. You’re perfectly soft and wet, clenching his finger. Slowly pumping his finger, he’s going to find your g-spot. Clenching his head with your soft thighs. Grabbing his hair tugging, he groans from the sweet pain.

Focusing on your sweet spot. Taking pride in how easily you tremble because of his tongue and finger.

“They say the quiet ones are freaky, what about you? What do you think about when you're touching yourself?” Choso doesn't want to take his face out from between your legs. He’s found heaven, but he can't ignore your question.

Rising up, causing you to fall on your back, your legs over his broad shoulders. His cock hangs, his tip lightly grazing your soft, wet cunt. “Wanna take you to mine, get you high, give you a safe word,” trapping your head in between his hands, “tie you up, drag a knife across your skin, see you squirm, help you cum, hear you cry and beg to be my sweet little whore.”

His cock aches from having you folded up beneath him. “I wouldn’t mind trying some freak shit, get a knife from the kitchen.” Kissing your forehead, cheeks, and soft cunt. Carefully slipping your legs off his shoulders.

Choso is quick to grab a large knife from your kitchen.

Leaning over you, “Safe word is red.” Lining his cock with your soft cunt, rolling his hip. Dragging the knife up your side, gently kissing your soft lips. Groaning, grinding his thick cock on your sloppy cunt.

Squeezing your neck, pinning your hips with his, keeping you from squirming too much. Slipping his tongue past your lips, deepening the kiss. You’re so needy, and desperate, digging your nails into his back.

Loosening his grasp on your neck. “Ya good sweetheart?” Dragging the knife over your soft nipple, pulling his cock away. You’re so sexy, stuffing two thick fingers in your sweet cunt. “You’re getting so sloppy for me.” Curling his fingers, remember where your sweet spot is.

Smirking with pride when you moan, “Chooo please please please!” Gliding the knife down your stomach. Marveling at how you squirm, your cunt getting so tight around his thick fingers.

Your cunt’s lips and puffy clit wet, soft and beautiful. “I’m obsessed with how sexy you are begging’ for me, clenching my fingers.” Pressing the side of the knife to your clit, lightly rubbing your clit.

“I’ve been waiting long enough please please fuck me. Need to feel your fat cock in my cunt!” Choso’s cheeks burn with how you’re looking at him. He wants to remember the look of adoration, lust and pleasure on your beautiful face forever.

Lifting the knife off your clit, kissing her. “I didn’t prep ya enough yet sweetheart.” Dragging the knife along your thigh, adding more pressure than before testing what limits you have.

Stroking your clit with his thumb. “Nnnn oh fuck.” Pumping his fingers faster. - the pain- pleasure-I didn’t think!” You trail off moaning louder, biting your bottom lip, closing your eyes.

Holding the knifes to your neck, “Look at me or I’m stopping, look at whose making your tight little cunt feel so good.” Smiling when you look at him. “That’s it beautiful, lemme see the sweet look into your eyes when you cum. Whose slut are you?”

Rubbing your soft clit faster. “Your’s! All yours my tits, mouth, ass and cunt are all yours.” Dragging the knife down your neck, between your collarbones and swirling around your nipple.

“What are you? Need to hear you say it beautiful.” Messaging your sweet spot at a steady pace. You’re quivering, your cunt squelching, making his cock ache with how hard he is. His pulse quickens, making his head throb.

Swiping your nipple with the knife. “I’m your sexy good lil’ slutttt!!! Nnnn!” You’re squirting on his fingers, fingering your soft, squelching tight cunt. Playing with your puffy clit.

Jerking your hips away, he drags the knife down above your belly. Forcing you to have to keep still, your thick cum trickling from your spasming cunt. “There are so many nasty things I wanna do to you. I’m gonna ruin you, make your cunt crave my cock.” Gliding his fingers out.

Sucking your thick cum off his fingers, groaning from the flavor. Dragging the knife to your sloppy, sensitive cunt, sliding the knife around your sweet cunt. Groaning when your soft cunt clenches around nothing. “Beg for my cock.”

Oreo creampie’s m.list

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk smut #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x you #choso smut #choso x reader #choso kamo x reader #kamo choso #choso kamo smut #choso kamo #choso x y/n #choso x you #jjk choso #jujutsu kaisen choso #choso kamo x you #choso kamo x y/n #kamo choso x reader #kamo choso smut #kamo choso x you

[crimsonbubble]

cw. nsfw, afab!reader, oral, overstimulation, sex toys, face sitting, mentions of squirting, inappropriate use of sento/powers, temperature play *not proofread, just pure horny

[the horny got to me,, can you also tell who my favs are🛐🛐🛐]

kinktober masterlist

MINORS DNI!!

Johnny is a clit kisser. A pussy eating menace. You will not be able to push him away from you. He’ll happily drown himself in you if you let him. An avid enjoyer of face sitting. He has a nice nose, so you can sit on it if you want to. His face and lap are your personal thrones, sit where you want. He'd have a full-blown make-out session with your pussy, it's insane. But seriously he lives to eat you out. Always makes you cum at least twice with his mouth and fingers. Also loves to press a bullet vibrator to your clit while he tongue fucks you. And everyone's a squirter if you try hard enough.

Kenshi seems like one to be impartial to giving or receiving oral. If you offer him head, he'll happily let you blow him. If you want head, he'll kneel before you. Anyway, this is about you. I'd say he wants eye contact but given his current situation, I'll refrain from it. Has used Sento's ancestral guidance to aid him tho. As long as he can feel your eyes on him, then he'll give you the most toe-curling head. Once fucked you with the handle of Sento while his mouth worked on your clit. He doesn't want to admit how much he liked to use the ancestral sword on you.

Bi-Han makes great use of his powers. Pressing a cold tongue against your clit, sucking the nub into his mouth. Cold hands are pinning your hips down to the bed when you attempt to squirm away from him. Grinding the pad of his thumb into your clit while he fucks you open on his tongue. Can't help but laugh as you struggle against him.

Kuai Liang struggles to maintain his composure as he lapped at your slit. His restraint is wavering as you writhe and twitch under his ministrations. His body is radiating more heat than needed, leaving you sweaty and out of breath. His hands feel like they're going to burn you, the pain coming off in waves. Kuai would press a hand flat against your stomach, keeping your hips on the bed while his other hand held your thigh up. He'll leave nail marks on your skin before he dares to use his powers on you but sometimes he loses himself in you a little too quickly.

Tomas wants you to sit on his face more than anything. Don’t worry about if he can breathe, just sit on his face. He gets really handsy. Like he’s moving from your thighs to your hips, to your waist, to your ass and up to your chest. Loves to grab any and every part of you because he loves how you shudder and squirm under his touch.

Syzoth has an interesting tongue. Thin and forked, perfect to wrap around your sweet clit and flick over the sensitive bud as he pulls orgasms out of you. If you really want it, let him fuck you with his tongue. He'll hit every sweet spot that he can while grinding his nose into your clit. Savors the taste of you on his tongue for as long as you'll let him. He'll lick, suck and bite your thighs as he does so.

Raiden is pretty straightforward but that doesn’t mean that he doesn't like to spark things up a little. Toys with your clit using his thumb and sends you little shocks here and there. While Johnny is a teasing and arrogant clit kisser, Raiden is a kinder and more loving clit kisser. Holds you down by your hips or by pressing his hands flat against your stomach. Enjoys eye contact so he can see how your face contorts in pleasure.

Lui Kang is much stronger than you, so it’s easy for him to take over once you start getting tired. So when the speed of your grinds against his tongue slows down, he immediately takes hold of your hips and moves you himself. He devotes all his time to focusing on your pleasure, he wants to see you lose yourself before he even considers giving himself some relief.

#bubbly writes <3 #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #mortal kombat smut #mortal kombat x reader #mortal kombat #mortal kombat x you #mortal kombat 1 #mk1 #mk smut #johnny cage smut #kenshi takahashi smut #lui kang smut #mk raiden smut #mk reptile smut #bi han smut #tomas vrbada smut #kuai liang smut #johhny cage x reader #kenshi takahashi x reader #lui kang x reader #bi han x reader #kuai liang x reader #tomas vrbada x reader #reptile x reader #sub zero smut #scorpion smut #scorpion x reader #sub zero x reader #mk x reader

[oharababe]

STRESS RELIEVER | MIGUEL O'HARA

⋆𐙚₊˚ premise: you're struggling to keep your focus with the stress and miguel offers to ease that worry off you.

⋆𐙚₊˚ cw: explicit content, finger f*cking, dirty talk. 18+

⋆𐙚₊˚ tags: modern + college au. afab reader + playboy miguel.

⋆𐙚₊˚ wc: 3,573

a/n. this is long overdue for @spikedhe4rt who requested miguel to finger fuck reader as a stress relief. i aged reader and miguel to between 22-23 in this oneshot since they're college students. this fic is longer than intended but hey, we like to take it slow burn here.

Sometimes you contemplate why you put yourself in this kind of situation. 

You were aware that you have exams coming up in the next few weeks. But you were focused on making sure that you got your assignments done before the deadline. So it was natural for you to prioritise those. You wish you had paid more attention to the dates because just when you thought that you would have more time to revise, you didn’t. Leaving you with only three weeks until your exam. And now you’re struggling to get information into your head. 

“Fuck,” you mumble. The machine makes a soft drilling noise as it pours coffee into your mug. You rub your forehead with your hand as you wait for your drink to finish. Thinking about what topics you need to revise for the exam. Mentally planning how you would organise and plan yourself for another long session of studying. It’s going to be another long night.

When your drink is ready, you stride your way to the dining table where all your notes and books are set. With not enough desk space you have in your room, the dining table has turned into your second desk to accommodate all the reading materials and your laptop to work on. You strap yourself in your seat, ready for another torturous session of studying for the finals. 

All the caffeine from the coffee, tea and sugary energy drinks didn’t last long in your system. At first, you feel the buzz of the caffeine that helps you go through two hours of reading and answering mock questions without a proper break. You feel yourself pushing through, feeling motivated that you can do this. But then, the effects wear off, and now you’re struggling through short video clips on your laptop after two hours into your study session. 

Your mind battles. Reminding you about the consequences of you losing more time. But you can’t be bothered at the moment. You are convincing yourself that you deserve a break from studying for fifteen minutes which turned into a two-hour rest and procrastination. 

At this rate, you know that you won't get any studying done. You’re going to have to face the consequences of that but you can’t be bothered about it for now. Staring mindlessly at your laptop with headphones on as you watch a reality television adaption to pass the time. 

“Dios, you’re still here this late?” 

Your eyes look up from your laptop to find your roommate in the dining area. Miguel stands at the entrance in his black leather jacket, red shirt underneath and dark-coloured jeans. His black helmet rests on his left lip and it looks like he’s returned from wherever he went or did. You didn’t realise that he wasn’t in the house you both shared all this time. “When was the last time you looked at yourself in the mirror? You look shit.” 

“Thanks, Captain Obvious.” You say. Your relationship with Miguel O’Hara is rather tricky, to say the least. Sometimes, the two of you get along and have a decent conversation with each other about careers, and personal experiences and share similar interests. Though other times, it’s not necessary. It’s mostly when he would bring people over to the house and then take one girl up to his room. Having to hear moans from the girls he fucked and Miguel’s growls and dirty talks. 

It annoys you to no end, especially the one incident when you walked into the bathroom with him getting a blow job in the shower. It’s still his fault for not locking the bathroom or even putting a sign on the door to say that he’s busy getting pleased.  

Even after that, your subtle attraction for Miguel still resonates with you. 

You realise your mug is empty, another drink that is supposed to keep you going has gone to waste in your system. You can’t be bothered but you know that you’ve wasted time not studying when you’re supposed to. So, you get up from your seat, walk into the kitchen and do the same routine that you’ve done the past few weeks when you’re cramming for finals. Either make your coffee, or tea or grab an energy drink. The caffeine from the coffee is too much for you to handle at the moment and tea isn’t strong enough for you. So you settle for an energy drink where it’s in between enough caffeine to maybe help you go through for another three hours for now. 

“Are you thinking of studying again?” Miguel sounds a bit disbelieving, but not surprised. He’s now in the kitchen with you as you take your energy drink of choice for the night—or early morning. You don’t want to look at the time “There’s no point. You’re not going to remember anything at this rate.”

“Can we just… not do this?” You warn, holding your hand up as a sign for him to stop talking. Stop creating conversations that would lead to an argument because you know it would happen. Especially with your emotions all over the place.  

Miguel stares at you, his eyes roaming up and down. Not long after, his lips curl into a smirk. Leaning his side against the frame of the long, rectangular entrance arch. “You’re stressed out. Miss Perfect finally breaks down for finals.”  

A tired sigh escapes out of your mouth. You focus to proceed on opening up the can, hearing its fizziness before pouring it into your mug. “You could say that.” 

The kitchen falls into silence. What he says is certainly true and you feel that you brought this on yourself. You were off-tracked with your assignments and didn’t check the right exam dates. It’s an error on your part but you are trying to do your best to make it through another year of college without failing. At this point, you’re willing to accept a passing grade just to make it to another year.  

“I’ll study and keep you company,” Miguel declares. “Only to make sure you stay focused and get on track. No more messing around. Got that?” 

You blink, unprepared for his words. You’re not sure why he’s doing this to you but what he said made a rush of warmth fill your chest. Despite his words, you guess that he thinks it’s better to have someone to study with rather than doing it alone. But you don’t ask Miguel if that’s his intention, in case he decides to rethink his offer.

“Thank you.” 

Miguel unfolds his arms and lets it drop to his sides. His hands are in his pockets as he’s about to leave, but then he looks over his shoulder to you. “And also; nadie bebe su bebida energética de una taza.” He says before disappearing elsewhere. 

You blink and look down at the mug in your hand, guessing that Miguel is talking about how energy drinks are meant to drink from their can, and not from a mug. 

* * * * * 

You did manage to push yourself for another two hours before you came crashing again. 

“I can’t focus on anything else right now. My mind has gone blank.” You sigh, slumping on your seat. That’s another study session that failed.

“Hm,” Miguel responds. Focusing on his study materials. “I think you’ve studied too much. That’s why you’re burned out.” 

There is some truth to his words. You have been pushing yourself to the bone for this exam and now your mind is haywired. Everything feels numbing in your head. The feelings of exhaustion, guilt and unbotheredness are jumbled in you. 

“I’m just really stressed out. I want to do well on this exam but my brain just… can’t grasp anything that I’ve studied.” You say, sounding a little disheartened. “I can’t focus, I can’t concentrate.” 

Miguel couldn’t help but glance at you. Taking in the way you’re slumped in your seat and how hollow your eyes are, filled with fatigue and emptiness. You look stressed out. He wonders when was the last time you had rest – a proper break. Not the stupid Pomodoro breaks where you take five to ten minutes of break time before getting back to studying. 

He wonders when was the last time you had taken care of yourself? 

Miguel turns his attention to you when he hears you close one of your heavy books. You let out a sigh, “I can’t even relax without being so much on edge. Fuck.” 

He thinks you’re right as he sees the way your body tenses in stress and anxiety. Miguel’s expression stays unfazed though he does feel sympathy seeing you in such a state. “Hey, you should get some rest. Go to bed early or something.” 

“I will after I attempt to get this lesson done. Then, I’ll go to bed.” 

Miguel gives you a solemn look. Your determination is one of the things he admires about you. Your willingness to do whatever it takes to get your points across. It made you endearing in his eyes. But at the moment, it’s making you look stubborn and somewhat prideful. The last thing you need is a bad experience of burnout before your exam, and he knows that you know this as well deep down.

“Let me help you to relax,” 

“Huh?” You shoot him a confused look. As if he’s said something unusual to you. “Help me… relax? How do you plan on doing that?” 

Miguel nods, “You are tensed up and you’re not getting anything remembered in your head. Your mind can’t focus.”  

You raise a brow at him, unsure where your roommate is coming from. Miguel is right, you do need to take a proper break since your productivity is rather counterproductive. But his words still puzzle you about how he can help you relax. “And how do you plan on doing that, exactly?” You ask curiously. “What do you do to relax when you’re stressed out?” 

“You know, go to the gym. Take a walk, drive around.” Miguel says it casually. “Sometimes masturbating helps to wire your brain to relax.”

You stare at your roommate before burying your face in your hands with a groan. Not only is the suggestion embarrassing but you have to imagine Miguel playing with himself. How his hands would stroke his cock, hot and pulsing in the palm of his hands. Envisioning the grunted breaths and deep groans he makes. It isn’t as if you haven’t done that to yourself either, pleasuring yourself. You’ve done that on the nights where you could hear the headboard of his bed from his room moving as the girl Miguel brought for the night kept moaning. 

You shake your head, dismissing the thoughts immediately. Or try to. “I’m not in the right mindset to do that.” 

Miguel raises an eyebrow. “I’m not saying you should do it. I’m offering to do it. It’s on the table for you.” 

“What?” You stare at him in shock and confusion. You think you heard him wrong but from the unfazed look on his face, you know that he is serious about this. Serious about giving you an orgasm, or maybe multiple orgasms. Because you know from the women and girls he brings over to fuck, Miguel has them moaning more than three times. 

When you open up your mouth, you can hear yourself stammering your words. The thought of it is disgusting but at the same time, arouses you. “Miguel, I–” 

“Do you trust me?” He asks, his red eyes piercing into yours. Captivating you to stop talking. To stop denying the offer of pleasure. You give Miguel a look of uncertainty, unsure how to respond to his offer.

“What’s it gonna be?” Miguel asks. The corner of his mouth curves up to a tiny smirk. “No pressure, chica. I want you to think about it and let me know if you’re up for it or not.” 

Miguel goes back to reading his study notes with a neutral expression as if the conversation didn’t happen. He doesn’t look at you and the silence in the room speaks volumes. Leaving you to think about the offer. You’re not sure why he is even offering himself to give you pleasure. Miguel is your friend, for goodness sake. The guy is out of your league and he has been with other people, you know this. Is he doing this out of pity or could there be more to it? 

The two of you have lived together for three years of schooling, and have known each other for that long. He doesn’t give you attention in a lustful way or lustful like he does with other girls; the kind of interest in starting a sexual relationship with you. It’s a blessing in disguise yet at the same time, you want a connection more than just being his friend. 

You have a crush on Miguel but he doesn’t seem the type of guy who isn’t ready to commit to one person just yet. Especially when you’re both still young and exploring life ahead.  

“Okay,” you closed your book with a thud. You catch his eyes when you fully turn to talk to him. This idea is already as insane as it is, but you’re desperate to stop feeling like a lost cause about your exam. You just want to forget about your test for a few minutes. Maybe a couple of hours at most. “I’ll take up on your offer. What I’ve been doing is not working, and I need some sort of break before I go insane.” 

Miguel grins and then puts his reading materials away. You always think that he looks so handsome when he smiles. “Well then. Move your books and laptop aside and sit on the table for me.” Miguel looks at you when you stare at him. “It will be a lot nicer like that, trust me.” He adds. 

“Okay, I’ll get my stuff out of the way.” You say and begin picking up your books and laptop. Miguel does the same, putting his things away, then turns his attention to look at you. 

You’re sitting on the edge of the table, waiting for his next words. The beating of your heart thumping is the only thing you can hear as you watch Miguel. He stands in front of you in between your thighs. Tall, built and handsome. His red eyes look down on you as they shine under the lights in the dining area. 

You feel his hands on the sides of your waistband shorts, his fingers brushing against your clothed skin and hips. “May I?” Miguel asks as he looks at you. 

“Sure,” you say. You’re not one to be nervous around easily but your roommate seems to have that effect on you. When you lift your hips slightly, Miguel curls his fingers on the waistband and pulls down your shorts. Discarding your clothed item you notice that he’s taken off your panties too. “Miguel–” 

His stare made you pause, his red piercing eyes keep you quiet. You’ve always known what Miguel’s eyes are like but in this moment of what you’re letting him do to you, it stirs feelings in you. The gaze in his eyes is fiery in desire; so focused and enraptured. He looks at you in silence – keeping his eyes on you – as he slowly pulls down everything and discards it somewhere in the room. 

“Open your legs a little for me, pretty,” Miguel tells you. “Yes, that’s it.” 

The heat on your cheeks burns you as your heart thumps in your chest at how intimate and vulnerable the situation looks. Never in your dreams you would be in this situation, much less doing it with Miguel O’Hara.

 “It’s not too late to change your mind and tell me no.” He says. Standing between your legs, his calloused fingers on your inner right thigh. “I won’t hate you for it.” 

Your breathing is soft and steady. “Shouldn’t you have asked me that before you took my panties off?” You chuckled with a small smile. You feel a little more relaxed about what you and he are starting. 

Miguel grins, “I probably should have.” His expression becomes serious. “I’ll start slow.” 

You watch as he puts two fingers in his mouth with a gentle suck. When he pulls them out, his digits are glistened wet under the lights. Lubricated and wet against his tan skin. Miguel catches you dazing at him, his intense expression stays on you, as he brings his fingers between your thighs. They find themselves between your flaps, tracing your inner folds with his fingertips. 

“You’re already wet before I touch you.” Miguel hums in approval. “That’s good.” 

His fingers move slowly like he promised. You feel him gather your sleek arousal with a gentle swipe of his thumb and move up to the hood of your cunt. You moan softly when you feel Miguel play with your clit, circling and putting just the right pressure that has you tingling in sensation. Your hands grip on the edge of the table as you brace yourself. 

“Gosh, that feels nice.” You sigh. Your eyes are closed, indulging in the pleasure, finding your body relaxed and mind in tranquillity. Focusing on feeling his fingers touch and tease your folds and clit. Maybe this is what you truly need for a break from intense studying. 

“I like the look on your face,” Miguel tells you. You can picture the smirk from the tone of his voice. “This is just the beginning of your stress relief.” 

You didn’t get to open your eyes and ask him what he meant when you felt something push inside your cunt. Your walls are wet and warm, feeling one of Miguel’s digits sliding into your pussy with ease. It has you gasping and moaning softly, your back arches and hands gripping tightly onto the table edge. Miguel has his index finger in you and he slips in his middle finger, stretching your pussy open. His thumb is still circling your clit as his fingers thrust in and out of you. 

“Stay still, bonita.” His voice deeps, almost growling. “And don’t think. Just focus on the feeling of my fingers. Relax for me.” 

You can’t help but tighten around his fingers from the command. Hoping that he didn’t feel the way your clit throbs from his command. You never heard him speak like that before – maybe not to you – but it sounds hot. All you could focus on is the way his fingers rub and massage your pussy. 

You can tell that Miguel is certainly experienced with the way he can tease your vulva and play with your clit, letting your breathless sighs and moans guide him. It’s completely easy to forget about anything else but being finger fuck by the guy you liked. 

“Oh, oh.” You softly moan, putting the heels of your feet on the edge of the table. Your hands clutch onto his forearms as Miguel fingers you. It has your head spinning with the way he alternates between fingering and rubbing your slick folds. The pace is not fast or slow-- just perfect, as it eases you off and you forget about what you're stressed about in the first place. 

And when he pushes his fingers into your pussy, it has you tilting your head back in ecstasy, moaning his name, as you feel him going deeper.

"So tight around my fingers. You definitely need this." Miguel smirks, his breath warms your neck. “Need a good stretch, don’t you, bonita?” 

You groan as you feel him continuously plunge his digits in and out of you. Miguel doesn’t stick to one way to pleasure you; he would rub your wet folds, flicker your clit up and down and sideways with his thumb, and circle your little pearl. At the corner of your eye, you see the corner of his mouth curve up in a smirk when clutching onto his forearms for dear life. 

“Miguel,” you mewl. The knot in your lower belly tightens when he plunges his whole fingers into your slick pussy, thrusting them in and out. Your body moves in a sudden, forward thrust when Miguel continues to come hither inside your pussy, having his fingers rubbing your G-spot. He doesn’t stop to flicker and circle your throbbing clit and a sultry gasp catches in your throat as your thighs begin to quiver. “Oh, fuck!” 

“That’s it, beautiful. Oh, you really do need this, don’t you?” Miguel asks almost mockingly. You arch your back in his embrace and let out another moan, feeling his two fingers flicking inside your pussy walls. He knows exactly what he’s doing, drawing out more noises from you as your lower body still trembles, and your cum spilling out of your folds and onto his fingers. 

It feels as if Miguel is toying with you and pussy for a long time, even after being overstimulated and sensitive. He slows down his ministrant but still has his fingers gently rubbing circles on your clit and wet folds. You relax in his arm, head on his shoulder as you regain your senses from orgasm. All thoughts cleared up in your head and you couldn’t even remember what you were thinking or doing earlier before being finger-fucked. 

Miguel’s voice sounds a little raspy and distinct, still toying with your cunt, as he whispers:  “Wanna continue this elsewhere?” 

#꒰📍꒱﹕my writing #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara smut #miguel smut #miguel atsv #miguel o'hara imagine #the miguel effect #fic: stress reliever

[faith369]

what if… what if dbf!sugardaddy!price takes readers virginity????

A/N: I am so sorry for the delay, I had so much stress the past few days, which has settled now.<333

You were nervous, not just because you were standing in front of him, expensive lingerie hugging your body, but also because you had never gone this far with anyone. You tried to just let yourself relax into the kiss, but the thought of making a fool of yourself or him finding out that you were still a virgin pulled you away from it.

"What's up with you, love? D'you want me to stop?"

He noticed, of course he did; he notices everything—the smallest shift in your posture, or your eyes, and when you lied.

"I've never, you know..." You kept your head down, scared to see a form of disdain on his face.

"Baby should have told me, want me to go slow?" His timber voice caused heat to spread through your body. The nod you gave him as an answer was enough for Price to press you into the soft mattress, his lips kissing their way from your throat to your navel, his eyes never moving from yours, not when he slid down your panties not as he dug his fingers into the flesh of your thighs to keep them down. You felt exposed, vulnerable your mind racing with unpleasant thoughts, but all of those vanished the second he laid his mouth onto your heat to latch onto your clit. You only noticed you grabbed his hair to compensate for the overwhelming feeling as you felt its softness under your fingertips.

He shoved two fingers inside you moaning at the way you hole sucked him in, the sounds that filled the room were filthy, your continuous whines and moans only slightly covering the squelching sound that clung in the room every time John moved his fingers inside of you, his tounge lapping at your clit as if he were a starving dog to the poin where u could feel the orgasm only a blink away. He stopped out of no where leaving you whining at him, only the sight of him unbuckling his pants shutting you up.

Hoovering above you, you could feel his hard length against your thigh.

"Gotta relax for me now, yeah." One of his hands came to stroke away a strand of hair that made itself on your face. He gathered some slick before positioning himself in front of your entrance.

It burned when he first started pushing the thick head of his cock into you; he didnt stop instead kissed you to distract you from the stretch. To your surprise, he didn't start moving right away and instead opted to let you get used to the feeling that could only be described as overwhelming. You felt him inside of you, nudging your cervix, filling you in a way that knocked the air out your lungs. You could feel his body over yours, the way he smelled burned into your nose, hear his breath above you it felt as if you became part of him and you wouldn't change it for anything.

You searched for hold by gripping into his arms the second he started moving. His strokes were strategical, mind-blowing. You knew there was a small chance that it only felt this way because it was your first time, but you had friends, and what they told you about having sex did not compare to this experience at all. It felt good, almost too good. You could feel yourself reaching, that sweet release every time he hit that spot again, leaving you a moaning mess.

"Yeah, that's my girl; there you go, come for me."

His timber voice rippling through your body was what made you go to a place that felt like heaven. Price didn't stop, his pace now picking up while his thumb found its way to your clit circling the swollen bud, he ignored the little yelps you let out in overstimulation only stopping once your spasming pussy became too much and filled you up.

Taglist: @fruitymoonbeams-blog @thera-daydreams @kittycawn @buckybarnessweetheart @katzarantos@mitrr @cummunistcat

#I am back guyyys #cod mw2 #cod mwii #cod x reader #john price x you #captain price x female reader #captain price x you #captain price #captain john price #captain john price x reader #captain john price x you #john price smut #john price x f!reader #john price x reader #john price cod #call of duty modern warfare #faith writes #dbf!sugardaddy!price #dbf!price #captain price fluff #price x gn reader #mdni #18+ mdni #18+ only

[emjayewrites]

Lil’ Crush (Lewis Hamilton x Black!Fem Hairstylist Reader)

SYNOPSIS: Lewis has a huge crush on his hairstylist.

PAIRINGS: Lewis Hamilton x black!fem hairstylist reader (Y/N)

WARNINGS: cursing, slow burn at first, obvious sexual tension, sexual content. RATED R (minors DNI/18+)

TAGLIST: @queenshikongo3 @cocobutterqwueen @httpsserene @mauvecherie-writes @pausmoon @a-moment-captured @yeea-nah @melodichaeuxx-lacritquexx @lewisroscoelove @hxneyclouds @questionable-behaviour @lovebittenbyevans @tian-monique @alika-4466 @saintslewis @cherry2stems @planetmimi @woderfulkawaii @d3kstar @liamundi @trinitoldyouso @scorpiobleue @pharaohanubis0 @certifiedlesbianbaddie @serpenttines-library @peyiswriting @royallyprincesslilly @motheroffae @hrlzy @sinflowersugar @hopefulromantic1

A/N: Just something cutesy/nasty to hold everyone over as I take a step back from writing 🤗 This will be the only part.

Lewis tolerated your occasional tardiness at appointments, despite his dislike for waiting on others. Time and time again, you apologized, citing car troubles or traffic or double booking as the reason. But Lewis didn't mind; all that mattered was that you always showed up and delivered exceptional work.

You were skillful at your job, always in a chipper mood, explorative, and knowledgeable about your craft. You taught him the basics on how to take proper care of his hair, telling him what products to use for his specific hair pattern. You were licensed, a continuous learner of the industry, but most of all you weren’t afraid to put him in his place.

Although he hated to admit it, he enjoyed how straightforward you were, telling him off and letting him know that all of his championships, his celebrity, you couldn’t care less about it. Now, if that was anyone else, of course that will be the last time they will be within his inner circle, yet it was you.

They dubbed you “Lewis’ girl”, not meant disrespectfully but because there were rumors that Lewis forbids anyone else from pursuing you. He would never admit it openly, but you were special to him - his confidante. And he wasn't willing to let anyone else have you.

It wasn't possessiveness, just a desire to keep you all to himself. So he came up with a plan, vowing to be honest with himself and stop playing games. But knowing Lewis, it would probably take a while.

Until then, he continued pining - casual flirting here and there that goes under your radar, small gifts, giving you his undivided attention. The works. It was you after all.

Once again, you joined Lewis for another race weekend. Despite your growing fame and clientele, you made sure to schedule around Lewis's busy racing schedule. He always spoke highly of you and his fans loved every hairstyle you created for him since becoming his permanent hairstylist toward the end of last season.

Lewis only gave you the best: from hair tools to flights and hotel rooms, whatever you needed, you received it. After all, you were his girl.

Another race in another country. This time you found yourself in Japan. A first time for you whereas a countless number for him. Lewis flew you out first class and booked you a suite with a view. It was your first time, so you had to have a great experience.

Your hair was in its natural state, perfect spiral curls from your flexi rod set. Lewis loved your hair like this, how it framed your face beautifully and reflected your personality. You were always experimenting with different styles - silk presses, bohemian braids, wigs - and they all worked flawlessly. Despite claiming to not be into fashion as much as Lewis, he couldn't help but compliment your impeccable outfits.

You were in your own world, moving around freely as you listened to a song from one of your many playlists. You just finished washing his hair and was now in the midst of detangling his curls before blow-drying.

Lewis had always prided himself on being a disciplined and focused athlete, but when it came to you, he was powerless. Every time he saw you, his heart raced and his mind went into overdrive, imagining all the ways he could make you moan and scream his name, especially with the outfit that you wearing.

He had a preference for skirts over pants on you, admiring how they showed off your long legs despite being a few inches shorter than him. Your ass looked amazing whether you wore pants or skirts, but there was something about you in a skirt that drove him wild with desire. Many nights, he dreamt of bending you over, reveling in how the skirt would rise up to reveal your thighs and perfect backside. He imagined taking you from behind, delivering mind-blowing thrusts and relishing in the sounds you made when you were near climax. You bent over in a skirt, wet and willing for him - it was one of his favorite fantasies. Another was listening to your sultry voice praising him, a kink he didn't know he had until you comforted him after a tough race. As you paused in the middle of braiding his hair to hold him close and speak softly, it aroused him more than he'd like to admit.

The sight of you in that skirt today distracted him like no other. The way the fabric clung to your thighs, subtly emphasizing your hips and drawing attention to the gentle curve of your waist, was nothing short of intoxicating. He could have spent hours just watching you move, the hem of the skirt brushing against your calves as you walked, offering fleeting glimpses of skin that sent a shiver through him. But he knew he had to control himself, or risk losing all restraint and giving into his desires right then and there.

Lewis sat in his seat, stealing glances at you and attempting to distract himself from thoughts of confessing his feelings. He had been keeping them hidden for months, fearing that revealing them would destroy the strong bond of friendship that had grown between you over the past year. Before meeting you, Lewis was known as guarded by his close friends and family, but your presence had slowly broken down the barriers he had constructed after his breakup with his ex.

“Any ideas on what you want to get done today, or are you open to trying something new?” you ask as you part his hair into four neat sections.

Lewis winces as the comb glides through his tight coils, causing him to shift in his seat and prompting you to gently guide him back.

So tender-headed, you thought to yourself. But it was always worth it for the end result - styling Lewis' hair was one of your favorite things to do. You talked about everything and nothing - work, family, hobbies - and each time, Lewis opened up a little more. Plus, he was easy on the eyes.

He hummed thoughtfully before answering, "Hmm, let's go with the usual fade on the sides and maybe some blonde in the braids."

"Okay, I see you, Lew Lew," you exclaimed, causing him to chuckle.

As you worked on his hair, Lewis couldn't help but admire your skill and grace. You had always been artistic and creative, but watching you braid his hair was simply mesmerizing.

"How's it looking so far?" you asked, holding up a mirror for him to inspect the back of his head.

Lewis tilted his head to the side, admiring your handiwork. "Perfect as always," he replied with a smile.

"Good," you said with a satisfied nod before returning to braiding.

"So how have things been going for you lately?" He asks, breaking the comfortable silence between the two of you.

You pause for a moment before replying, "Pretty good actually. I've been busy with work. I got a lot of new clients."

"That's great to hear," Lewis smiles warmly at you. "You deserve all the success that's coming your way."

Your heart flutters at his words and you feel a warm flush spreading across your cheeks. Lewis often showed such overt affection towards you, but it still made you giddy.

"Thanks," you reply with a shy smile. "And what about you? How's everything been since your last race?"

Lewis hesitates for a moment before answering, "It's been...strange. But good." He reaches up to rub at his neck nervously. "I've been feeling different lately. I was in a sour mood about the car this season, but I’m just trying to enjoy the rest of the races."

"As you should, King," you say, making him grin widely. Lewis closed his eyes in relaxation as you worked on him, massaging oil into his scalp as you continued to section off his hair. He enjoyed feeling your hands on him, how gentle you were. "Don't fall asleep on me now," you reply with a laugh as you catch him dozing off.

"I'm not sleeping, just resting my eyes," he responded, trying to play it cool.

"Mmmhmm," you said skeptically, remembering the last time he had said that and ended up snoring away. "You said that last time and your ass was out like a light."

Lewis chuckled sheepishly. "Well, don't be so good at your job," he teased playfully.

"Bye, Lewis," you quipped in a dismissive tone, rolling your eyes. "Flattery will get you nowhere,” you shoot back with a wink before continuing to massage his scalp.

After a few minutes, you finish applying the hair oil and begin braiding the remaining sections of Lewis' hair. You work quickly and efficiently, your hands moving in sync as if they were made for this very task.

"You never cease to amaze me with your skills," he says sincerely.

"Well, I have a pretty amazing canvas to work on," you reply with a smile, referring to Lewis' hair.

He chuckles before getting serious again. "But seriously though, thank you for always taking care of me."

You pause in your braiding and look at him with concern. "Of course Lewis. You know I'm always here for you."

"I do know that," he says softly patting your arm.

Your heart races at the intimacy of the gesture. Lewis clears his throat and sits straighter in the chair.

"Alright, enough of that," he says, "what are your plans for the week?"

"Well, I was going to hang out here for another day or so then head back home to rest before I travel for another client."

"What do you mean 'stay for a day or so'?" Lewis asked incredulously. "Y/N, the suite is reserved until the end of the week. This is your first time in Japan; don't leave so soon."

I want to spend more time with you, Lewis thought to himself. But he couldn't express those feelings out loud, at least not yet.

"I have to rest, Lew," you stated, trying to sound firm.

"You can rest here," was his response, making you frown slightly. Although you didn't mind spending more time with Lewis, you didn't want to intrude on his personal space.

"What are you trying to do, convince me to stay longer so that you can bother me?" you teased half-heartedly, trying to hide your true feelings.

Lewis chuckled and shook his head. "No, I just don't want you to miss out on all that Japan has to offer. Plus, I would love for you to experience it with me."

His words tug at your heartstrings. You couldn't resist that charming smile and pleading look in his eyes.

"Fine," you finally relent with a smile. "But only if you promise not to bother me too much."

"Deal," he says with a grin before pulling out his phone. "I’m texting the guys now to tell them that you’re coming with us to dinner."

"Of course you are," you say as you finish up the last braid and give it a final spritz of hairspray. "All done."

Lewis rises from the chair and swivels around to face a mirror, examining his new hairstyle with a satisfied grin before turning his attention towards you. "Looks amazing."

"It was my pleasure," you reply with a warm smile.

The moment feels charged with unspoken tension, and for a moment, you both just stand there looking at each other until Lewis’ phone dinged with a text.

He checks the message and his grin widens. "It’s Miles," he informed you. "Looks like they're already waiting for us at the restaurant. You good to go?"

You glanced down at your outfit. You freshened up earlier and was currently wearing a mini cargo skirt and a black bodysuit. Simple yet stylish nonetheless. You nod, gathering your purse and other necessities then slipped into a pair of heels. You followed Lewis out of the suite and into the elevator. The ride down was quiet, but you can feel Lewis' gaze on you, making you shift slightly under his scrutiny.

As soon as the elevator doors open, Lewis leads you through the hotel lobby to one of the hotel’s restaurants.

Lewis fills you in on some interesting facts about Japan and its culture as you walk to your table. You find yourself hanging on to every word he says, enjoying not only his knowledge but also his company.

The rest of the guys are already seated, chatting animatedly amongst themselves.

Miles jumps up from his seat when he sees Lewis and rushes over to give him a hug. "Hey, bruv! Glad you could make it," he says before turning to face you with a warm smile. "Y/N, how are you babygirl? Looking as gorgeous as ever."

"I’m doing great." You greeted Lewis' best friend with a warm smile and leaned in for a hug. The embrace lingers longer than you expected, with Miles holding onto you tightly before finally pulling away. You don't think anything of it, as Miles is just as, if not more, flirtatious than Lewis. However, you can't help but notice Lewis's scowl from the corner of your eye. You then greeted Andrew and Tim, engaging in light conversation with them.

"Seriously, cut it out," Lewis whispered to Miles as he watched you talking to his friends.

Miles looked confused. "I just said hi, I can still talk to Y/N, right?"

"It's not about that, man. Just tone down the hugging and all that." Lewis was trying to keep his jealousy in check, but he didn't appreciate Miles being too touchy-feely. Miles was a hugger by nature, but sometimes he could be excessive.

"Relax, bruv," Miles said quietly so only Lewis could hear. "You need to be honest with her and stop messing around. If you keep dragging your feet, you'll end up losing her to someone else."

"But she--"

"Lew, are we going to eat or are you two going to have a private conversation all night?" you interrupted playfully, causing Andrew and Tim to laugh.

Miles nudged Lewis towards the booth. "Go sit next to your girl and quit being a dickhead."

Lewis chuckled and playfully swatted him away before doing as he was told and sitting next to you. He placed an arm around the length of the seat, engulfing you with his closeness and the addictive smell of his cologne. "Get whatever you want, Y/N."

"Oh okay, big spender," you say as you peruse the menu, your eyes stopping at the wagyu. "What if I want this?"

Lewis made a face of disgust at your choice. "You know how I feel about meat, but if you want it, you can have it."

Smiling mischievously, you pointed out another expensive option. "And this too?"

Lewis shrugged. "Anything you want."

You raise an eyebrow at him and put the menu down. "Are you sure? Because I can keep going."

Lewis laughs, knowing exactly what you’re doing. "Okay, okay. Let’s not bankrupt me. You can get things within reason. I don’t want you to become a little brat."

"I’m almost there with the way you’ve been spoiling me lately," you said. "I mean, who flies out their hair braider in first class?"

Lewis chuckled as he leans in closer, whispering in your ear. "Well, I can't have my girl flying in economy."

"Your girl?" you scoff, rolling your eyes as you continue playing the game with him. Lewis has always been a flirt, and sometimes the two of you engage in playful banter, but it never goes beyond that. A small part of you can't help but wonder if all the rumors about him being great in bed are true, and the thought briefly crosses your mind to take things further. However, your professionalism always took precedence, and you kept a decorum between the two of you. "So what’re you? My Sugar Daddy?"

"If that's what you want, I can definitely make it happen." He wiggled his eyebrows playfully, causing you to laugh and shake your head.

"You wish," you teased, knowing that Lewis was not one to shy away from spending money on those he cared about.

The conversation continued to flow easily between the two of you, with Miles and the others occasionally interjecting with their own comments and jokes. You couldn't help but feel grateful for this moment of normalcy amidst the chaos and hectic schedule of race weekends.

As the night went on and dinner came to an end, Lewis insisted on paying for everything before escorting you out of the restaurant.

"Thanks for dinner," you said sincerely as Lewis walked you back to your suite. "I had a great time."

Lewis smiled warmly at you as he watched you open the door. "Anytime, Y/N. Can’t have my girl out here starving."

"There you go with the 'my girl' bullshit," you say. "I bet you say that to every woman you’re around."

"Nah," he replied. "Only to you. You’re my girl."

You gave him a quick examination, noting how his frame filled out his clothes. He appeared to have bulked up since the last time you saw him; clearly, he had been spending some serious time in the weight room. You were fully aware of Lewis' reputation as a womanizer and didn't want to be just another conquest, yet you couldn't deny his attractiveness. And with him staring at you with such intense focus, you felt yourself on the verge of giving in to temptation.

"Why are you so quiet?" he asked you, pulling you out of your reverie.

"Honest answer?"

“Of course.”

"Just admiring you," you boldly stated, catching him a bit off-guard. "I’m surprised that you never tried anything with me. I mean, we flirt, but it never ends in anything."

Lewis looked at you with a mixture of surprise and curiosity, his eyes searching yours for any sign of jest, but the serious expression on your face told him otherwise.

"Well, to be honest," he began, "I didn't want to overstep any boundaries. You’re my hairstylist and I respect you."

"Is that all it is? Respect?" you inquired, unable to keep the hint of bitterness out of your voice.

Lewis hesitated for a moment before reaching out to tuck a wayward strand of hair behind your ear. "Of course not," he said softly. "I think you're an amazing person. It's just... I don’t want to ruin our friendship or make things awkward between us."

"We're grown adults," you told him. "Trust me, I wouldn't be even considering this if I thought it was going to fuck up everything."

Lewis searched your face for any signs of hesitation or doubt, before finally nodding in understanding. "I know…and you have no idea how much…fuck Y/N…you have no idea how bad I want you."

"Then show me," you challenged.

Without hesitation, Lewis leaned in and captured your lips in a heated kiss. The passion and desire between you two was palpable as his hands roamed over your body, pulling you closer to him. You eagerly responded, your own hands roaming over his muscular frame, feeling every inch of him.

After what felt like an eternity, you pulled away slightly, both of you gasping for air. "Wow," you breathed out, looking into Lewis' dark eyes.

"Yeah," he agreed, his voice low and husky. "I've been wanting to do that for a long time." Lewis rested his forehead against yours and whispered, "Let's take this somewhere more private."

Nodding in agreement, you grabbed his hand and led him inside your suite, shutting the door behind you.

Once inside, there was no slowing down. He lifted you up effortlessly and carried you to the bedroom, gently laying you down on the bed before crawling on top of you. His lips found yours again as his hands continued to explore every inch of your body. You moaned into his mouth as he kissed and nipped at your neck, sending shivers down your spine.

Lewis' hands traveled down to your hips where he began to unzip your skirt. "You don't understand how bad I wanted to do this, especially with how you kept teasing me with these fuckin' skirts," he groaned, tossing the skirt aside before trailing kisses down your chest.

You let out a breathy moan, arching into his touch as his hands found their way under your shirt before he removed it and the bra you wore. His touch was electric, sending sparks through your body and igniting a fire within you. You ran your fingers through his hair as he continued to leave a path of kisses down your body, finally reaching the waistband of your panties.

He looked up at you with dark eyes filled with desire and need before sliding them off of you. You couldn't help but feel self-conscious under his intense gaze, but he leaned in to press a soft kiss against the inside of your thigh, leaving a trail of wet kisses along the way to your womanhood.

"Look at how wet this pussy is for me," he commented as he glanced at your glistening mound. "You’ve been craving a nigga badly, huh?"

You couldn't even form a coherent response as Lewis dipped his head between your legs, his tongue expertly finding all the right spots and sending you into a frenzy of pleasure. You moaned and writhed under his touch, your hands gripping the sheets tightly as he brought you closer and closer to the edge.

When you finally came undone, it was with a loud cry of his name. He didn't stop there though, continuing to lick and suck at your sensitive folds until you were begging him to stop.

"You taste so good," he murmured, licking his lips before crawling back up to kiss you again.

You could feel his hard length pressing against your thigh and couldn't wait any longer. You reached for the waistband of his pants, but he stopped you, shaking his head.

"So impatient," he whispered against your lips.

"Shut up," was your response, making him chuckle. He stood up from the bed and quickly undressed himself before returning to hover over you.

"Tell me what you want," he demanded, positioning himself at your entrance.

"I want you inside me," you moaned without hesitation.

Lewis didn't waste any time thrusting into you in one smooth motion. The feeling of being filled by him was almost overwhelming as he started moving in a steady rhythm. You wrapped your legs around him, urging him on as your nails dug into his back. He groaned as he felt your tight walls clenching around him. He had been waiting for this moment for what felt like forever. He had imagined it a thousand times in his head, but nothing could compare to the real thing.

Lewis started moving faster, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room. Your moans and whimpers only spurred him on as he chased his own pleasure.

You couldn't believe how good it felt. You had been with other guys before, but none of them could compare to Lewis. He seemed to know exactly how to touch you, how to make you feel like you were on cloud nine.

"You're so fucking tight," he groaned, his thrusts becoming more erratic. "So fucking wet."

He leaned down and captured one of your nipples in his mouth, swirling his tongue around it while still pleasuring you. You wrapped your arms around his neck, wanting to feel even closer to him. The intensity was building inside you and you knew you were close to another climax.

Lewis must have sensed it too because he reached between your bodies to rub your clit while still thrusting into you and sucking your nipples. It was too much and you screamed his name as you came undone again, your body shaking with pleasure.

He followed closely after, his hips stuttering before finally stilling as he spilled himself inside of you.

You both stayed in that position for a few moments, catching your breaths and enjoying the afterglow of sex. Lewis rolled off of you eventually and pulled you close against his chest.

"Damn," he murmured into your hair. "That was amazing."

You smiled contentedly, feeling more connected to him than ever before.

"I can't believe I waited this long," he continued, placing soft kisses along your forehead. "I should have made a move on you ages ago."

You laughed softly and snuggled closer to him.

"Well I'm glad you finally did," you replied, feeling completely happy and satisfied in that moment.

The two of you spent the rest of the night tangled up in each other, talking and laughing until you both fell asleep in each other's arms.

The next morning, you woke up to the smell of coffee and the sound of Lewis moving around. You stretched and smiled, feeling content and at peace.

"Good morning," Lewis said, walking into the bedroom with a mug of coffee. He handed it to you before sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Morning," you replied, taking a sip of the hot drink. "Thank you for this."

He grinned. "Anything for my girl."

Your heart fluttered at his words, still not quite used to hearing him call you that, but it felt right and it made you smile even more.

#emjayewrites #sir lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton fanfic #sir lewis hamilton x black!reader #lewis hamilton x black reader #lewis hamilton x black oc #f1 x black!reader #formula one!black reader #formula one fanfiction #lewis hamilton fanfiction

[assassinsblade]

In the Blood

Eris has been subjected to Beron's physical punishments his entire life. But now a new form of punishment forces him to live through his nightmares, and the heir to the Autumn Court finds himself fearing more than just a punch to the jaw: you.

WC: 4k

Warnings: Oof, we've got a lot. Blood, violence, injuries, death, gore, angst, suicidal thoughts, and domestic abuse.

Eris stared at you from across the table, his amber eyes alight with fire. It was not a look that held contempt or hate but instead one of observation, as if you were an animal he was enjoying learning about. You tried to tamper down the nerves such a look ignited in your chest, instead averting your guys to your high lord.

Rhys spoke with a calming voice. "We wished to meet with the Autumn Court to discuss the threat of Koschei."

Rhysand was no fool. He knew of Beron's misdeeds—of the way the man schemed in his own court, swearing loyalty to those wreaking havoc on Prythian. And the high lord eyed the ruler of Autumn, ready to track each and every one of his lies.

"This is not a threat the Night Court takes lightly. We do not wish to have another war like Hybern, so we want to be proactive. Have you seen what could be coming to our lands, what destruction is threatened?"

Beron leaned back in his chair arrogantly. "I've seen some."

"Then you know that we should have allies to ensure Koschei does not infiltrate our courts. I assume you would like to keep the Autumn Court safe, no?"

Beron grunted. Eris tensed at the sound, as if he were holding himself back from reacting, from responding to Rhysand's question himself.

"The Autumn Court is strong enough to defend itself," Beron finally responded.

A slow smile grew on Rhys' face, and you couldn't help the thrill that went through you as you watched your friend in his element. Power drifted off of him in waves, daring Beron to deny him. Violet eyes gleamed with confidence. "I think we know by now that is not always true."

Sneering, Beron pounced forward, slamming his palms onto the table. You flinched at the sudden movement, and you caught Eris' body slanting toward you out of the corner of your eye. You willed your rapid heartbeat to slow, reminding yourself of the reassuring presence of both Cassian and Azriel behind you.

"The Autumn Court does not need help from bastards like the lot of you."

You sensed Eris swallow at his father's words. A hesitant clearing of his throat followed, but his voice was surprisingly confident when he spoke. "Father, perhaps we should consider their offer. The Autumn Court can only serve you as long as there is an Autumn Court and High Lord to serve."

"You will not speak out of turn, boy."

The booming voice had you tensing once again, and the Illyrians behind you stepped closer on instinct, hands resting on their weapons. Eris stayed unnaturally still in his own chair. The previous fire in his eyes smoldering as if he did not regret speaking up but knew it was a poor decision nonetheless. You tried to remain expressionless despite the tension in the room.

It was difficult when you couldn't stop wondering how Eris fared in his own court. When he had tried to help and been immediately scolded.

You thought of that moment hours later as you sat at the dinner table in the House of Wind. How Eris had tensed as if preparing for a blow of some sort. How his eyes burned out, looking toward the future. How he had not spoken again for the rest of the meeting, only lifting his eyes to your own in small moments of quiet.

As you picked up your fork and pushed your food around your plate, you fought the thoughts of the auburn haired male away, wondering why he seemed to keep seeping his way in.

Eris knew when his father had come in with a witch that his punishment would be worse than normal. He had already taken ten lashings for "siding with the enemy" during the meeting with the Night Court, and as he prepared to be released to go tend to his wounds in the privacy of his chambers, his father had escorted an Autumn Court witch into the room.

Beron had claimed he would learn faster with a mental punishment to pair. He had claimed Eris would bite his tongue the next time he thought about questioning his High Lord. That the next time a word went to leave his mouth, he would remember his time in this room, of the nightmares that plagued him.

Eris hadn't understood what his father had meant. Not until the witch was chanting and his head was throbbing in pain.

Then his vision was gone and he was standing on a beautiful rooftop, stars shining above his head, and the moon bright above the mountains. Velaris, he reminded himself. This was the home of the true Night Court. Your home.

And you were there. Your beautiful eyes twinkling from the night sky and from the joy of being among your friends and family. Your olive colored dress flowed whimsically with each of your movements, and his eyes floated between the fabric and the open skin revealing itself in the slits near your ribs and leg.

The dress was Autumn Court colors. He swallowed hard at the observation.

When he reached your eyes again, they were no longer twinkling with happiness. Instead, they were hardened, angry, and they were looking into his own. Your smile was gone, and you were quick to dismiss yourself from your friends to march over to where he was standing, placing your glass of champagne on a nearby table on the way.

"What do you think you're doing here?"

As disheartening as it was to hear your voice so terse when directed toward him, his heart still skipped a beat. He had never spoken to you directly before. Instead, finding it safer to keep his distance and interact with the other members of the inner circle. That way, he could still keep up the cold front.

"I'm . . . " He tried to think of an excuse as to what he was doing in the Night Court. During Starfall of all times. "Rhysand invited me as a way to show trust in our alliance."

Your brows furrowed with irritation. "I highly doubt that. He knows. He knows what you are to me and how I feel about it."

Eris' stomach dropped, his mouth suddenly going dry. Since when did you know?

Heels clicked on the ground as you took a step closer, looking up at him with your chin up. "We both know the Mother was cruel to pair me with you as a mate. Did you honestly think you could make us forget about everything you have done? Did you think you deserved a mate after everything you have done?"

His heart beat hard in his chest, and he gritted his teeth as he attempted to breathe through the pain in his chest. Each of your words struck harder than the last, stabbing deep into his flesh and twisting at the space his soul was tied to yours.

When he finally spoke, his voice was hoarse and shaky, so unlike the heir to the Autumn Court. "I never thought—"

"—That you would have to face the consequences of your actions? That a female might not feel safe being mated to the male who left her naked friend for dead with a sign nailed to her womb?"

Eris tried to take a step back, tried to distance himself from each of your cruel but truthful words. He couldn't bare it, he had kept his distance all this time so that he wouldn't have to. But he deserved this, he knew. All of your hatred, disgust, anger. At both the Mother and at him.

When you followed his step backward, he braced himself on the railing pressing against his lower spine. You leaned in and your sweet scent of vanilla and the cold air of night hit him like a wall.

"I will never want to be with a male like you."

He nodded. He nodded despite the tears starting to flood his eyes, despite the feeling of his throat closing, despite the nausea threatening to upend his last meal.

But you ignored his acceptance, his willingness to accept your choice, and made sure he knew exactly what you were saying. "I reject this bond in every form. I will reject it in front of your court, in front of my own, and in front of the Mother herself. I will call her a sadist for bonding me to you, and then I will spit on the Cauldron for making such a mistake."

Then you were strutting away, your dress flowing all around as you disappeared down the stairs to the streets below.

It took every ounce of self control and rationality left in Eris' body to stop himself from tipping over the railing, from ridding himself of the agony festering in his chest and ridding you of the burden of him.

Instead, he turned his body to face the railing and gripped it tightly between his hands, hanging his head and trying to breathe.

He knew this day would come eventually, but nothing could have prepared him for the pain of living through it.

You hated him. Thought he was a monster. Rejected him.

And he deserved it, didn't he? Had he not done awful things in his past?

He swallowed harshly. He had only ever tried to do his best given the circumstances he was born into, but his best would never be good enough for you.

When his shaking minimized and he felt as if he was getting air in his lungs, he raised his head once again.

The sight might have given him whiplash.

What was previously a starry night with twinkling lights and flutes of champagne was now the Autumn Court throne room with towering statues and the evil High Lord himself waiting to be worshipped.

Eris barely had time to question how he got there before he was spotting the red pool of liquid to the right of the throne, a body laying in it.

A female body. One with faint bruises and bright auburn hair. One that had given him a smile when it had nothing left to give. One that sang him songs when he wanted to give up.

His mother.

Beron sat on his throne with a smug grin, and Eris felt rage burning in his veins.

He moved forward, palms tingling with the need to erupt, but Beron held up a hand nonchalantly, his face morphing into one of boredom.

"I didn't think my eldest son to be so impulsive."

Confusion rushed through him, but then he heard a strangled cry coming from the door to the right. A familiar cry. And the rage and sorrow that had been flowing through him from seeing his dear mother dead was then compounded with panic and fear.

How?

How had Beron found out? How had he gotten you away from Velaris?

Two Autumn Court guards dragged you into the throne room, kicking the backs of your knees until you were kneeling in front of them. Bruises lined your beautiful face, and your lip was split with a deep gash. Eris nearly growled at the sight.

"Ah, she does seem familiar, son. One of the Night Court whores, yes?"

Eris didn't respond. He didn't even move. Not with your life on the line.

"I caught your mother trying to help her escape. Despite what your mother insisted so foolishly, I cannot have my son having stronger ties with another court."

Beron grinned a slimy evil grin and then he was flipping his hand in a small wave, gesturing at someone unseen to Eris. That someone--another guard—brought forth a beautiful handcrafted sword. It gleamed under the lights of the throne room, and Eris' hands twitched with inaction as he studied the sharpened blade.

His father's footsteps echoed as he descended the throne and made his way over to you. His sweet mate, always brave, lifted her chin in defiance as the High Lord studied the sword in front of her.

"I apologize for the Mother leaving you with such a fate, my dear. But of course, you must understand."

Eris was frozen. Frozen as he watched the light leave your eyes as you realized this was it. Frozen as his father tilted his head, savoring your acceptance of defeat. Frozen as the sword was raised high, sparking with light. Frozen as you lifted your head to the ceiling as if sending your soul to the Mother herself. And frozen as the sword came swinging down in a heavy motion, cleaving through your neck with barely any resistance.

Eris was choking. He couldn't breathe. He might have been screaming.

He fell to his knees, barely catching himself before he fell fully over. And then he was heaving, emptying his stomach on the pristine marble floor beneath him, and trying to breathe through his sobs.

No, no, no, no, no.

Not you. Not his mate.

His eyes squeezed shut as he willed a different outcome. Willed the last twenty seconds to go back in time so he could have done something.

The thought of your blood spilling from your neck, of your beautiful beautiful face now rendered in permanent fear, of your body split in two had him nearly self-combusting.

This couldn't be real. This wasn't real. This wasn't real . . .

He didn’t know what he thought, why he lifted his head in some last hope that you had somehow been able to get away, to dodge that death blow. He had seen the sword slide through your skin as if it was nothing, but maybe it was a trick? Some ploy to torture the Autumn Court heir?

But the bond in his chest was dark. It was dark and hollow and empty, and when he lifted his eyes to where you were kneeling, he saw only your torso laying in a large pool of blood, nearly identical to the one surrounding the body of his mother.

He cried. He sobbed and he yelled and he heaved. He reached for your body, wanting to be closer to you, wanting to apologize for being your doom. His fingers reached out, desperate to feel the warmth of your body before it was drained.

But then Beron was stepping in his path. The High Lord towered over where Eris kneeled in pain, and the way the male was standing put your severed head directly in Eris’ sight. It hung from his father’s fingers like it were something as trivial as a lantern.

Eris was going to kill him. He was going to burn this entire court to the ground and was going to savor doing it.

As the blood dripped from your cut neck to land directly in front if his knees, though, Eris realized it would all be for nothing.

He had no one.

His mother was dead.

His mate was dead.

He stared at the dripping blood, waiting for his father to kill him too. Begging the Mother to bring the sword onto his own neck as well.

When the motion didn’t come, Eris found himself looking up once again, ready to face his father and death itself.

But the throne room was gone. His mother’s pale body, your decapitated body . . . both gone.

You now stood in front of his kneeling form, your back to him as you surveyed your naked body in the mirror. Your alive body, completely in tact and breathing.

“I thought you said you would be a kinder ruler than your father. That you wished to right his wrongs.”

Your voice was small, jarring to his ears after what he had just witnessed. He had to shake the image of you dead on the ground from his mind in order to respond. “I will be. I do.”

“Then why is your court still afraid of its ruler? Why am I still afraid of my ruler?”

He could barely process what was happening, what you were saying.

A breath and then you were turning to face him. Your body on full display. Eris nearly gasped. Burns—some in the shape of fingerprints, others in the shape of hands—marred your skin. The tender skin of your throat burned a bright red, matching that of your wrists, forearms, and inner thighs.

“Why are you so insistent to be just like him?”

He met your eyes, his head already shaking in denial. He would never—

“I would never hurt you.”

“Then why do you?”

Eris only continued to shake his head desperately. This couldn’t be real. He would never lay a hand on you, would never even think of marking your delicate skin or causing you a lick of pain.

A small thud resounded through the room as you fell to your knees in front of him, matching his position and taking his face into your delicate hands. Your eyes were soft, shining with sympathy. “Everything you touch burns, Eris. You are meant to destroy, not love.”

The harsh words contrasted so greatly with your gentle touch, with your tender voice and sad eyes. His jaw clenched as he tried to push back the tears already leaking from the corners of his eyes.

He knew your words were true. Despite the hope that often spread in his chest at the possibility of escaping his family, of doing better, he knew that he had done too much bad to ever think of himself worthy of anything other than pain and destruction.

He would reap what he sowed.

“I’m sorry,” he choked out.

“I know,” you whispered. You leaned forward, lightly pressing your lips to his damp cheek. “But you have to let me go. If you really cared, you wouldn’t want me around you.”

He felt like he was dying, like he was losing a crucial part of himself. But keeping you, your mating bond, would mean doing wrong by you, subjecting you to a monstrous male, a monstrous ruler who can’t help but be the villain his blood tells him he is.

“Let me go back to the Night Court. Back to my friends and family.”

Family. Friends. The words struck Eris like a blow. Your soft voice uttering them only reminded him of how alone he truly was. No family. No friends. And you were leaving now too.

No one ever chose him; he ruined things too quickly for that.

He looked into your warm eyes, hand reaching out to gently stroke at your cheek. His fingertips barely grazed the skin before you were flinching back from his touch. He immediately withdrew his hand, his heart thumping in despair at the fear that flashed in your eyes.

You were beautiful. So beautiful. Sometimes he questioned if you were an angelic form sent by the Mother to tempt him, to see the lengths to which he’d go in his selfishness.

But he couldn’t be selfish when it came to you. Especially not when it came to your safety and happiness.

And he never wanted to see that look of fear in your eyes again. So he nodded. He steeled himself, met your gaze, and nodded.

"Go."

It hurt. It hurt so fucking badly. But Eris would do anything for you. He would give up his crown, his happiness, his life, if it meant you were safe and cared for. Here in the Autumn Court, with his handprints marking your skin, you would never be safe and cared for.

You stood slowly, backing away from him as if he were a wild animal that could unleash himself at any moment. You were quiet and careful in your movements, and when you finally reached the door and shut it with a click, he heard your hesitancy turn into something just as painful: panic. Footsteps skidded down the hall, rushing to leave this place. Rushing to leave him.

Eris did not remove himself from the floor.

He stayed in that kneeling position, remembering your rejection, your execution, and your battered body.

His worst nightmares come to life.

They would stick with him forever—these moments. When he saw you again, he would see what he did here. Your disgust, your blood, your fear. It left him speechless. Broken.

He stared vacantly at the wooden floor beneath his knees. At his hands resting there. His hands that have caused so much harm. That would love nothing more than to hold you and protect you but are meant to burn and destroy instead.

You were right. Being around him was a death sentence.

He only wished it was one for him as well.

As if the thought triggered something deep within him, he was thrown back into reality. His wet eyes flew open, tear-soaked eyelashes fluttering, and mouth gasping for air in the cold atmosphere of the cell.

His entire body was shaking, from the cold or trauma, he wasn't sure. And that pain in his chest where his mating bond should be—it only grew stronger.

He tried to suck in air, to breathe through that pain, but it was difficult. His back still burned from his earlier whipping, and his mind was whirling with everything he had seen and experienced. His beautiful, beautiful mate . . .

But that wasn't real. You were alive and safe. This was real now, and he was exactly where his father had left him earlier in the day. Which meant you had gone home to the Night Court after the meeting. You were safe.

"The spell shows you your worst nightmares." A voice cut through the stillness of the room, causing Eris' trembling body to turn toward it. "Some you might not even be aware you have."

Eris wondered if his father somehow knew of the nightmares that went through his mind. If this witch saw and would report them for his father to use against his son at a later time. The thought increased his anxiety and panic further, his shaking and breathing still uncontrollable. He couldn't know. If his father knew—

"I would recommend coming up with others for me to report to the High Lord. I would hate to see an innocent girl punished for your emotions."

Her voice was cold, unimpressed. But what she was offering him . . .

Eris immediately grasped the favor. "Tell him I saw my brothers assassinate me. Tell him I saw a world in which humans ruled. Tell him I experienced him beating me in this cell for months. That I both fear him and fear his vision not coming to fruition. Anything."

When the witch merely stared at him, unmoving, he pleaded. "Please."

She only tilted her head, observing him. He could only imagine how he looked: tear-filled eyes, a bloody and bare back, his entire body reacting with panic, his voice begging. A pure antithesis to how he normally presented himself in public.

But she just turned on her heel and made her way up the stone stairway, leaving him on the cold and dirty floor.

He screwed his eyes shut, praying to whatever god was out there that she would lie. That she would tell him things that would only result in himself getting hurt. That you would be safe and he would be completely unaware of his son having a mate.

But Eris knew he was never lucky. He did not win in games of life. He was never granted a family that loved him, people who cared and looked out for him. So, when the door at the top of the stairway clanged shut, he couldn't help the broken sob that left his throat.

He might have just brought his nightmares to life.

You had said it to him then, and the words echoed in his head now: Everything you touch burns.

#eris x reader #eris x you #eris x y/n #acotar x reader #acotar x you #eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra x you #eris vanserra x y/n #eris fic #eris vanserra fic #acotar fic

[neocentral]

i need more perv virgin jisung. maybe you invite him into your room to talk or chill, something innocent, but just the fact that your scent is strong makes him unbelievably needy. he tries to push through it, he really does. he wants you so bad that hes sitting there malfunctioning in front of you. he's turning bright red, and thats when you realise the kind of person he is; a perv who would probably do anything for you.

also my first time sending an ask. is this good ? and ive heard people can have emojis. i want to be 🐈 anon. im excited to see what youll come up with!

of course!

rating: 18+. mdni.

word count: 1.4k

content: perv!virgin!jisung x reader, masturbation (m), no plot jisung's just horny n kinda subby

masterlist

part one

Jisung stands stiffly, feeling guilty and overwhelmed to be in your bedroom again. Though this time he was invited in. He wasn’t some pathetic, horny pervert who invaded your privacy and stole your used underwear. He was a guest. You wanted him there. You had leaned on his doorframe dramatically, perfume wafting over to where he sat in his gaming chair. He cursed the wind blowing through his window as he immediately felt himself growing aroused by the light scent.

Jisung had rejected your offer, not wanting to test the restraint he knew he didn’t have, but he couldn’t put up much of a fight when you whined, irresistible pout playing on your lips. “Ji, please hang out with me.” 

And now, Jisung can’t focus with you sitting so close to him, your scent stronger inside your small bedroom. He occupied his mind by looking around, taking in the decorated space. Framed pictures and one too many mirrors on the walls and shelves lined with your favorite things. His eyes meet your hamper, clothing hangs off the sides and he quickly adverts his eyes, trying to ignore the tingle in his stomach as he thinks back to the filthy panties he had stolen days before hidden in his bedside drawer.

The amount of times he had used the flimsy underwear was downright embarrassing. Even the simple sight of them shoved between various items in the small drawer made him so hard that he couldn’t resist another go like the insatiable, desperate virgin he is. Unfortunately for him, release after release had stiffened the fabric and tainted your intoxicating scent with his own natural musk, but he couldn’t stop. He had even considered making his way into your bedroom once more and stealing another pair. Would you notice? Surely you wouldn’t. 

You're perched so prettily on the edge of your well-made bed, looking up at him with your hypnotizing eyes when he leaves his head. Jisung thinks that if he were to jerk his hips forward, your mouth would meet where he needed you most. His hands make their way to his crotch as he tries to hide his swelling bulge. He looks away, swallowing as you begin to push your hair away from your face, keeping your eyes on him. 

“Jisung,” you laugh, “why do you look so scared? Sit.” You pat the space beside you.

Jisung doesn’t want to sit. He can’t bring himself to sit, fearing that you’ll see how hard he has gotten just from your presence if he makes any sort of movement. 

Despite his efforts, the slow shifts of his hands only draw your attention towards the prominent bulge poking at his pants. “Oh,” you breathe as your gaze falls downward. 

“S-sorry,” Jisung stutters, attempting to fully conceal his length. He feels himself twitch underneath his hand and he can only imagine how pathetic he actually looks, skin bright and burning, panicked and embarrassed and shamefully, pathetically hard.

You look him up and down. “It’s okay,” you say, eyes trained on the way his fingers stretch over his clothed cock. “I can see why you look so uncomfortable.”

He simply exhales, fearing what would come out of his mouth if he opened it. You watch him carefully, “take it out.” 

Jisung freezes, eyes snapping upward, “w-what?”

“C’mon, Ji,” you smile and Jisung feels like he might melt, “let me see.”

It doesn’t take much convincing because as always, your wish is his command. Jisung obliges, removing his large hand from his erection. Your eyebrows move slightly, your interest seemingly piqued. His thumb pushes into the waistband of his pants and he slowly pushes it down. His sweats fall to his ankles easily and he would’ve cringed at the quick exposure if he wasn’t so aroused.

You stare intently, running your eyes up and down his length, along every prominent vein and soft, upward curve. Jisung’s humiliated, hating, but loving the way you stare at his cock. It stands proudly, jumping and twitching uncontrollably as it craves to be touched. A dribble of precum leaks from him, sliding down the cherry red head. It forms a sticky string as it begins to fall and he quickly grabs it before it breaks.  

You nod at him, gaze expectant as your pupils move from side to side and observe his half naked body. Jisung gently swirls his finger over his head, taking a deep and uneven breath as he joins you in looking at his twitching cock. Your scent enters his nostrils causing his body to react. He pumps slowly, trying to restrain himself by biting the inside of his cheek. He wonders if you can tell how much of a horny virgin he is by the clear desperation written all over his face as his thighs tense and the veins in his arms and hands rise to the surface. 

“Does it feel good?”

Jisung shudders, nodding. He can make out his reflection in one of the mirrors to his side. He can see his figure colored with a rosy hue and his oversized hoodie that had shifted, exposing his prominent collarbones and a portion of his broad shoulders. The hem of it hangs just above his prick and the hand that tugs needily on it. Apparently, he was pumping himself a lot harder and quicker than he thought. 

Jisung releases a shaky breath letting himself look at you directly. Just a little, he naively tells himself. Of course, it isn’t just a little, he can’t look away from you and your alluring features. Your sweet, soft lips and focused eyes lined with curled lashes and excess eyeliner from your brief outing earlier that day. Even the smallest sliver of skin peaking through the top of your own hoodie has him even more needy. 

“I always knew it, you know,” you glance up at him, meeting his eyes that have been glued to you as he pumps himself frantically, lewd, wet noises followed with every slide of his fist. “I knew you were a little pervert. You’re always running away from me,” you pause. Your head tilts to the side as you ask, “do you want to fuck me, Jisung?”

Jisung can stop the moan that finally forces its way out of him, deep and strained. His eyes shut tightly as he tries to keep himself from cumming. He nods once, the movement small and full of embarrassment. He feels your warm breath against his pelvis as a puff leaves your nose.

He manages to stop his restless pumps but his hips take over, rutting into his fist instinctively. He can feel your heavy stare on him and he dreads the look he’ll be met with once he opens his eyes. Though, he can still see you with his eyes closed, having practiced visualizing your face everytime his hand reached for his swollen length since he met you but knowing that you were actually there, that your scent, warm aura, and enchanting voice were not a figment of his imagination and that made his mind fuzzy.

“Look at me,” you murmur. His eyes open slightly, just enough to see your blurry figure. His eyelids feel heavy and he feels like they might close at any second. “Are you gonna cum for me, Jisung?”

He let out a strangled hum, blowing air into his cheeks as he tightened his hold on himself.

“Say it,” you commanded. 

Your eyes were piercing, causing a flutter in his heart as he looked deeply into them. “Fuck,” he whispered as he released the hot air in his mouth, “m’gonna cum.” 

The closer he came to his climax the more overwhelmed he became. He begins inhaling and savoring your scent in his system, feeling the way it travels through his body and into his brain, lighting up some part of his brain that only seems to present itself around you. A string of curses come out with every rapid breath he takes as his fist pumps his cock with embarrassing fervor. His eyelids feel even heavier but he fights to keep them open, staring at you through the small sliver his lids allowed. 

Jisung uses the last of his mind to move his hand, positioning it before the head of his length. He cums with a whimper, the pearly substance pooling in his palm and staining the low hanging hem of his hoodie. Jisung tries to steady his breathing, feeling his sticky release hot in his hand. 

You grin, “better?”

#[🐈…] #starring... jisung ! #screenplay… #[NEO] play… #park jisung x reader #jisung x you #jisung x reader #jisung imagines #jisung smut #park jisung smut #jisung fanfic #jisung hard hours #jisung hard thoughts #nct hard hours #nct smut #nct x reader #nct dream smut #nct dream hard hours #nct jisung #park jisung #jisung #nct #nct dream

[wandagcre]

What do you think abt Sam (non g!p) has the first time with her gf and she cums first (and gets very embarrassed afterwards, cuz she didn't even need to be touched for that!)

first time | sam carpenter 🔞

(Sam Carpenter x Fem!Reader)

Sam never understood the clichés of firsts, until you – the only one that mattered.

WARNING: make out session, fingering, first time - set in Scream universe | 18+ men & minors dni. Words: 1.1k Note: the softest smut i have written yet ahh enjoy! <3

"Fuck," Sam gasped, breathless as you were. "You feel- it's blowing my mind..." she tilts her head and slips in her tongue.

A small smile escaped your lips, knowing how the woman couldn't compose her words properly at your intense make out sessions as this. you let her in, finding her eagerness adorable. The soft rubs of your thumb on her nape only reeled Sam further to your touch. She takes off your top and the hunger in her motion made you arch your neck.

You slow down a little and Sam is tad confused but it doesn't stop her. Her own lips chased yours as you pull away and it didn't faze Sam, who continued caressing her hands onto your bare torso.

You and Sam had barely left one another enough for your lips to become numbed with the well-known dance that has been going on for minutes now. Her eyelids fluttering as she's wrapped in a dazed sensation – the rustling of your limbs against each other and touching and seeing you – has left the entirety of Sam scorching hot.

"Baby, baby," you moan in muted tone. The pit of fire in Sam’s stomach continues to burn, although she finally looks at you in concern.

"Are you okay? we can stop anytime,"

The tenderness is palpable on her doe eyes. You can't resist but run a finger softly on those hooded eyelids.

"Funny how i was going to ask you the same thing. You beat me to it," you say with a crooked smile. Your hands loosely wrapped around her waist and somehow, Sam’s body reacted too enthusiastically, and it made her hips buck onto your front. "Someone's excited."

"I can't help it, you know that too well, querida..."

"And I can definitely attest to that." An inevitable grin breaks out of Sam’s pretty face. It's so easy with you. "I’m all in, baby."

"I am, too. all in. I love you," Sam murmured as if she was in a daydream, stroking your cheek.

Sam drinks the appearance that beholds her. Your skin so soft and delectable, that she failed to keep her hands off you. The creases in your face with your gentle smile. Your soul that welcomed her without a hint of prejudice; paired with your eyes that relayed nothing but acceptance and love.

How Sam got lucky with you is lost on her.

Sam pulled you in once again, the softness gritting into a deplore of conviction; wanting to express how much you mean to her – cheesily enough, you are her world now.

Unfortunately, it also meant she had grown ridiculously damp. a stretch of her lower limb would make it seep much worse. She feels the electric coursing through her veins, prickling soundly onto her sensitive areas. She feels bare and vulnerable in all forms, you didn't even have to touch her that much for her to come undone.

It was mind blowing how Sam haven't thirsted this much to her previous partners before. Even with your limbs intertwined and skins grazing upon another, it simply wasn't enough. Sam is constantly chasing for more.

"I want to have you first," you breathed softly on Sam’s ears to her surprise, making her temperature rise even more. "Please, let go for me, Sammy. I promise to take care of you."

You look at her with glossy eyes, filled with devotion. How can Sam ever say no to you?

She nods with no reluctance to your glee. Oh god, this is happening. Sam feels your fingertips along her abdomen, touch so incandescent, that it made her muscles contract, as it makes its way further down to your goal.

When the heel of your palm laid on her lower stomach, fingers stretching in to go underneath her underwear, Sam felt herself vividly ooze a palpable amount of wetness that made her heave out of breath – thigh muscles spasming that she can barely move.

She rasped a moan as she laid her forehead on your shoulder.

"Are you okay, Sammy?" your eyes went wide in concern.

She weakly laughed. "Yeah, yes. Shit i think– this is unreal. I just came. I surely just felt it," she retracts her hold around you to cover her face in embarrassment. "Now I feel ridiculous. that- that wasn't supposed to happen,"

You looked at Sam bewildered at the news she had dropped.

"Baby, no, no. look at me," you shook her by the shoulder gently and cradled her face. "That's nothing to be shy of. If anything, I’m happy to make something as sex not only pleasurable by means of aggressive throes of lust, but comfortably mind-blowing to you."

It took a while for your words to sink in for Sam. She bit her lip, nodding in agreement. Sam looks at you straight in the eye. All she saw was comfort. Safety. Love. All of which resounded strongly when it comes to you. Slowly, the feel of embarrassment ebb out of her system.

This wasn’t a quick fuck, nor a casual thing. You weren’t cheeky and condescending as the other men she had encountered.

Sam felt like she mattered for once – as though she wasn’t a meat or a conquest.

The thought wasn’t lost on you as Sam looked at you in wonder and it breaks your heart. You decide to grasp her hand and place gentle kisses on her knuckles. The same hands that have gone through unimaginable violence, yet it’s gentle and slightly trembling in your hold.

"Thank you, mi querida."

The kissing resumed as your fingers also continued making its way to the depths of Sam’s crevice. The pad of your fingers that she ushered for you to rub harder had sent her on the edge. The soft gasps of excitement and pleasure, Sam couldn't take it.

Every touch had her entirety reeling, as though you had her absolved all her sins. Nothing else mattered.

"Listen to me, you're doing great. You look... beautiful."

Albeit it came rarely, Sam was somewhat desensitized to praises. But yours were raw and innocent. Sam feels her heart thumping louder than ever.

"Always a charmer,"

From there, she cants her pelvis closer to you, rocking her hips to the newfound rhythm – riding your fingers. All Sam can think about was your name. She met your thrusts and each time, you never failed to give her praise. I love you, I love you, I love you -- you confess, akin to worshipping a deity. The open mouthed kisses on her sternum and chest that you spread all over her, has made Sam's head spin. You simply understood how vulnerable and hard it was for the woman to let go. Sam swore she felt heaven – it made her surrender all her strength completely under your touch. She has never known a safer place as yours.

Wet enough she was, and this time both of you couldn't hold back your smiles, complemented by neediness, as you make love for the first time.

do not repost/translate on other sites. © wandagcre

#gg.writes #sam carpenter x female reader #sam carpenter x reader #sam carpenter x fem reader #sam carpenter smut #samantha carpenter #sam carpenter x y/n #sam carpenter x you #wlw #lesbian #requested

[dumplingsjinson]

List of “102 different types of kisses”

Kisses in the rain

Those kisses that leave them craving for more

Character A laughing against Character B’s lips when they pull away before they go in for anotherkiss

Those kisses that leave them out of breath, mind reeling endlessly

Tearful kisses

Rough kisses

Soft kisses

Soft kisses turning rough

Rough kisses mellowing out into a softer kiss

Kisses that make them melt

Kisses of reassurance

Forehead kisses

Cheek kisses

Kisses on the crown of the head

Feather-light kisses on their knuckles

Kisses on the back of their hand

Thigh kisses

Neck kisses

Kisses all over the face

Sudden kisses

First kisses

Kisses that leave them all hot and bothered

Goodbye kisses

Good morning kisses

Hello kisses

Lazy kisses

Kisses that indicate they want to do more than just kissing

Kisses littered all over the body

Kisses of appreciation

Kissing just for the hell of it

Kisses that shouldn’t mean anything (but end up meaning more than they’d care to admit)

Shoulder kisses

Tip of the nose kisses 

Kisses on the eyelids 

Kisses of apology

Kisses after a love confession

Kisses that shut them the hell up

Character A pressing Character B against the wall and kissing them senseless

Collarbone kisses

Chaste kisses 

Kisses done in secret

Character B kissing Character A while Character B is dying in their arms

Kissing away tears

Kisses that they can never get enough of

Almost kisses 

Kisses that are interrupted by an unsuspecting party walking in

Smiling/laughing into the kiss

Kisses that make them wonder

Pecks on the lips

Kisses that mean nothing

Kisses that mean the world

Kisses that have their knees buckling under them

Hesitant kisses 

Corner of the mouth kisses

Kisses that involve a lot of touching as well

Long kisses

Awkward kisses

Accidental kisses

Character A staring at Character B’s lips before leaning in to claim them

Character A staring at Character B’s lips after they kiss them senseless. “Your lips are so red,” they whisper, eyes flickering up to meet theirs, a lustful glint in them

Slow kisses, like they’ve got all the time in the world

Kisses for the sake of practice

Unexpected kisses

Unexpected kisses that get all hot and heavy 

Kisses that cross the line they’ve both been dancing on for the longest of time

Character A kissing Character B while they’re fucking to keep the noises they’re both making at bay

Angry kisses

Character A kissing the Character B and then pulling away because Character B’s too shocked to respond, but then Character B’s pulling them back in and kissing them hard

Soft murmurs between kisses

Kisses that have them moaning against each other’s lips

Kisses that make their cheeks flushed

Kisses they can’t stop thinking about

Kisses that have them falling in love

Kisses that mean everything to one party and nothing to the other party

Playful kisses

Kisses all over the face

Intentional kisses

Innocent kisses

Kisses that have them both pulling away and bursting into giggles

Kisses to calm the other down

Desperate kisses

Firm kisses

Kisses to confirm whether they like them or not

Drunken kisses

Kisses that are done for the sake of a show

Curious kisses

Kisses where they both have no idea what they’re doing

Kisses which involve too much tongue

Kisses which have Character A pressed flushed against Character B 

Sloppy kisses that have them both pulling away and giggling 

Accidentally bumping noses when kissing and laughing about it

Kisses used in place of a verbal love confession 

Blowing a kiss from afar 

A “how about we ruin this friendship?” kiss

Knocking glasses askew when kissing

Eager kisses 

Soft continuous pecks on the lips that have the other party giggling softly between each one

Kisses trailing from the neck to their navel, then Character A looking up at Character B and saying, “Are you sure want this?” The eager nod Character B give them is enough of a sign

Kisses that burn; hands in their hair, on their waist, their hips, their neck, their shoulders, their arms, under their shirt because they need to feel every inch of them under their palms 

Hateful kisses; all teeth, bruising, hair tugging, being pinned against the wall, low groans, heavy breathing, knees separating thighs — but both of them need more. Even better if the kisses are shared between former lovers turned enemies

Suggestive kisses

The soft “Can I kiss you?” and the “Yes. Yes, you fucking can” before they meet in the middle

#long post #kissing prompts #kiss prompts #otp prompts #writing prompts #writing scenarios #dialogue prompts #come get your kisses! #prompts #i've had this list in my notes for so fucking LONGGGG #a lot is me self projecting #i need someone to kiss me before i go fERALLL

[kiwanopie]

aki threatening to make us housewives………. the way i physically gasped 😭. he’s the worst—one year as your senpai and he’s already decided you’re his.

it’s so vile too bc you want it, want him more than anything. want aki to cream your cute pussy ‘til you’re bloated. wanna hold up chunky lil babies that giggle and pull at their daddy’s topknot :((

the way i immediately opened my docs this ask sent my brain into overdrive

Glutton.

cw: car sex. breeding. dumbification. overstimulation. choking (aki wraps his hand around your neck) creampie. 1.1k

You already know he’ll name it after his little brother.

Or his mom. Whatever her name was? You’ve been chalking up ideas since he put it in your head and now it feels like you can’t remember a thing. Just your hope that if it’s a boy it’ll look like him and if it’s a girl - for her sake - she won’t have her mother’s tendency to misbehave.

You’re nothing if not a glutton for punishment.

You know, you’ve always assumed that Aki was a smart guy. I mean he’s team leader for a reason? He’s level headed in most cases, stalwart when it counts, a little demented but conscious of the things he does, and stubborn. He’d walk on a plate of fire just to prove a point - but it’s not a bad thing to stay true to your own ideals. This is a guy who keeps his promises. Every single one of them.

He’s too ticked off to put two and two together. “It’s like you like pissing me off.”

Aki’s heated breaths burn sear marks into the crook of your throat, just over the open wing of your collar and love notes left by his lips from earlier. Your brain’s too mushy to do anything but pant into the air, blowing thicker tufts of condensation that have already turned his car windows misty.

He’s fucking you like he means to turn your guts around, pistoning into your poor overstimmed cunt like it’s all he’s meant to do. Not even faltering when the acrylics of your nails tear shallow gashes into his button up - If you had the half of mind, you could even say he enjoys it.

Feeling you cling to him so desperately as he grunts in the crook of your shoulder, tighten when he curses at you. Maybe he’s too blissed out. Maybe he’s not as smart as you took him for. But you seem to be taking the repercussions of your misbehavior in stride.

“Did you think I wouldn’t find out?” Aki hisses in your ear. “You’ve got a lot of fucking nerve going over my head after what I told you.”

You croon when he lifts one of your legs and fastens it over his arm to get you at a better angle - a deeper angle. God, his seats are probably ruined.

You already knew you were in trouble when he offered to drive you home. You knew the look in his eyes, and you knew Makima was obviously gonna tell the guy overseeing you that you requested clearance to be contracted with a new devil, especially one so substantial. You even pulled the extra stop of shoeing in a compelling argument. ‘The life of a hunter is short anyway. Why not make it mean something?’

Like getting knocked up by your boss in the back of his Lincoln. “P-…Please forgive me, senpai! I’m- fuck, m’so sorry-“

“You might as well get used to calling me by my first name.” He grunts. “It’d be pretty fucking confusing when we start sharing my last.”

Aki lets out a broken curse when you tighten up again. “God, I can’t believe you. Were you even gonna tell me? Was I just supposed to find out when you…”

He doesn’t even finish the thought. Instead he blows out a puff of air against your pulse that makes you shutter. Lifts his head to look at you more directly and stares at you for a moment. There’s a lot of emotions behind his eyes that you’re not exactly cognizant to decipher. A way the tendons in his jaw tense - that seems less angry and more ‘something else entirely.’ But before you can zero your misty eyes on what exactly that could be, he’s already pressing his lips against yours.

A slow kiss. Not messy and unrestrained like earlier but savory. Sensuous lip smacking all the more sultry when he tilts his head to follow the current of the kiss. His loose hair falls freely over your face, lax from all the tugging you’ve been doing since he started turning your insides to bisque. But a kiss like this is the kind you give when it means something. Goosebump and butterfly inducing - You moan in his mouth and he swallows it heartily.

And then he deepens it.

That earnest passionance becomes lustful and raunchy before you can even realize he’s sucking on your tongue. Deepening his thrusts until you’re feeling him in your stomach and groaning down your throat when your fingers start to dig into his scalp. If you didn’t know any better you’d say Aki was hoping for this kind of outcome just as much as you were. Especially when he starts to angle his thrusts for the spot that has you gushing around him like he likes.

The kiss leaves a gossamer trail of his spit when he pulls back for another look at you. Your pretty doe eyes have gone teary.

“Don’t even worry about your resignation, I fired you as soon as I found out.” Aki grunts. “We’ll figure out the living arrangements later.”

Your eyes roll back when he settles for a firm grip on your throat. “I’ll have to get a bigger car. Oh fuck - And a car seat.”

You babble something that sounds like a cross between “So good!” and “I’m cumming!” but it’s more a jumbled mess of moans and overstimulated whimpers. He’s stopped counting the amount of times your pretty pussy has gone into the process of milking him for all he’s got. But even as he follows you over the edge does he continue to fuck you brainless.

Aki peers down at the mess you’re making on his leather seats. “S-Shit. Quit wasting it. I’m not stopping till I know it’ll take.”

“S’good, senpai! A-Aki-senpai! So good! It’s s’good!”

He pulls your other leg up till you're folded in a mating press, groaning at the difference in angle. “You know - mhph - You’re even cuter when you’re all fucked out like this.”

His dick twitches at the way you start to drool. “Gonna be my pretty wife? Gimme some pretty babies?”

“Sso pretty…!” You slur. “G’nna make you a daddy!”

He gives you a blitzed smile that definitely says he’s as far gone as you are. “Yeah?”

Your mouth gapes as he bends over you, much too deep with your legs hooked over his shoulders and pressing his hips flat against your ass to grind in as thoroughly as possible.

“So stupid…” Aki skims his lips over yours. “You’re stupid if you think I’m done with you after that.”

He hums as he brings you into another kiss, briefly pulling away to murmur drunkenly. “Gimme a pretty family, baby.”

1 reblog = several Hayakawa babies

#aki: *threatens to breed reader* reader: IM pussy? #aki hayakawa x reader #aki hayakawa smut #aki x y/n #aki x you #aki x reader #aki chainsaw man #csm aki #aki hayakawa #chainsaw man x reader #chainsaw man smut #csm x reader #csm smut

[worldlxvlys]

Can you pls make a fix where reader smokes with a guy friend after Chris says it’s not a good idea but the stuff she smokes is laced and the friend tries to make a couple moves but Chris steps in last minute and beats up the friend and then brings her home and takes care of her? Maybe before they are official they are still dealer and costumer

here for you

dwb! chris x reader

warnings: reader gets laced, unwanted touches, vomit, violence, blood (please please read with caution)

a/n: hope you like, also we’re just gonna name the dude jake and keep it pushin

dwb! chris masterlist

with that, i rolled my eyes and placed my phone down. i heard it vibrate again, but ignored it, missing his response.

“i’m coming over.”

“everything ok?” jake asked, noting my annoyed expression.

“yup, let’s do this” i said, watching him pull out two pre-rolled joints. we were sat on my front porch, a good amount of distance between us.

“oh wow, got me my own and everything” i said, as he lit mine and passed it to me.

“of course, princess. anything for you” it felt wrong, hearing someone other than chris call me that. i felt like i was cheating on him, which is crazy, considering we’re not together.

i brought the joint up to my lips, inhaling and taking slow puffs of the smoke. i closed my eyes while exhaling, enjoying the feeling that washed over me.

jake did the same with his joint, and i could feel his eyes burn into the side of my head.

“you starting to feel it?” he asked. i opened my eyes and realized he was suddenly a lot closer to me than he had originally been.

this was weird. usually when i’d smoke i would feel a sense of relaxation and happiness, almost in a state of euphoria.

now? i was feeling very relaxed. too relaxed.

my body felt light and my brain was fuzzy.

“oh yeah, you’re feeling it baby” he said as he brought his hand to my face, caressing it.

“you’re so pretty baby” he whispered in my ear as he brought his hands to my waist.

“jake? what are ya doin’?” i mumbled out, i could barely keep my eyes open.

“don’t worry about it baby, just close your eyes” his hand started rubbing my thigh as he brought his face to my neck

“please stop” i whispered, wanting to push him off but not having the energy to.

i was so out of it, i didn’t hear the heavy footsteps traveling up the steps of my front porch.

“yo, she said stop” chris.

chris pulled jake off of me by the collar of his shirt. he didn’t hesitate to pull his arm back, and swing. all that was heard was the sickening crack as his fist collided with jake’s nose.

jake let out a cry as he fell to the ground.

i couldn’t even keep up with what was happening. in contrast to the instant lightness my body had when i started to smoke, my body was now heavy. it felt like i was being held down by a million weights.

chris climbed on top of jake, and landed blow after blow. he threw punch after punch leaving jake’s face bruised and bloodied.

“chris?” i called out, wanting him close to me.

this seemed to make chris snap out of his angry state, as he rushed over to me.

he took in my drowsy state, his eyes softening.

“jesus ma” he whispers as he picks me up bridal style.

“you’re ok baby, i promise. i’m gonna take care of you” he said as he gave my forehead a kiss.

he then carried me to his car, buckling me in and giving my hand a squeeze, “i’ll be right back, ma”

he walked over to jake and pulled him up by the collar, whispering something in his ear before letting go of him and coming back to the car.

once we arrived at his house, he picked me up again and carried me to the door.

he put me down briefly, to push his key in the door and open it, then proceeded to pick me up and carry me to his room.

as soon as we got to his room, he placed me on his bed.

suddenly, i began to feel nauseous.

“chris- toilet” he seemed to understand what i was trying to say, and quickly helped me to his bathroom.

as i hovered over the toilet, i threw up my stomach’s contents making my throat burn and eyes water.

he pulled my hair back, and rubbed my back soothingly.

“ok, baby. it’s ok, let it out”

once i finished, i started to fall back as chris caught me. he wrapped one arm around me, the other flushing the toilet.

“i’m sorry chris, so sorry”

“don’t apologize, ma. that’s what i’m here for. you got me, i’m not going anywhere” he said as he continued to rub my back.

“chris, i feel so disgusting” i mumbled.

“i know, baby. do you wanna take a bath?” i nodded my head.

“ok, is it alright if i help you? i don’t want anything to happen to you, ma” he asked.

“yes, chris. thank you for asking first”

“of course, ma. don’t wanna make you uncomfortable”

“ok don’t move, i’ll be right back” he said as he leaned me against the wall.

he quickly went back to his room, grabbing a towel and clean clothes for me to change into.

when he got back, he began to run the bath water and adjusted the temperature to my liking.

while the water continued to run, he helped me brushed my teeth.

once the water was done, he undressed me, and helped me into the water.

he rubbed the soap onto my skin gently, constantly checking to see if i was ok or if he was making me uncomfortable.

when he finished, he helped me dry off and put on his clean clothes.

once back in his room, he sat me down on his bed.

“do you want space or cuddles?” he asked, very careful not to cross any boundaries.

“cuddles please”

with that, he sat down next to me and opened his arms. i leaned up against him, placing my head on his chest. “thank you, chris”

i said before drifting off to sleep.

he watched me sleep, feeling my heartbeat against his own.

“i’ll always be here for you” he whispered.

———————

idk if y’all have caught onto this but i’ve never smoked a day in my life😭

me and google were like this 🤞🏾 while writing

hope you enjoyed <333

masterlist

tag list: @lovingsturniolo @lustfulslxt @gwenlore @flowerxbunnie @sturnssx @mattslolita @its-jennarose @chrissturnioloswifey @sophssturn @bernardsleftbootycheek @queen161718 @chrisdevora @cupidsword @nickmillersn1gf @stramboli4life @mattsneezing @chrisstankyleg @sturniolobltch @vib3swithanuk @ciarasturn1 @bethsturn @sosmatt @bernardenjoyer @mbbsgf @soursturniolo @rac00ns-are-c00l4

#chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #christopher sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo imagine #christopher sturniolo imagine #chris sturniolo texts #chris sturniolo fic #chris sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo fanfic #christopher sturniolo x reader #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo x reader

[azsazz]

Hanging by a Thread

Kinktober Day 23: Cassian x Reader [Edging]

Summary: If it’s not already taken can I request cass x reader edging for kinktober? but like… reader edging him 👀

Warnings: Smut, sub!cassian, blow jobs, dirty talk, reader rides cass.

Word Count: 2,442

Notes: This one's for that anon the other day I busted this out because i felt bad, hopefully it's not too shitty.

_________________________________________

The great thing about the mating bond is that it tells you when your mate is about to lose control. The feeling mirrors in your bones, the golden thread tying your love together weaving through your bones shudders with delight. Your spine lengthens as a result of the feeling, heart stammering uncontrollably. 

But it’s not the only thing that lets you know he’s getting near. Cassian’s strong hand is fisted in your hair, shoving you roughly down on his cock as his hips lift in a brutal face to fuck your throat. You revel in the ache, the stretch. Saliva smears down his thick length, across your face and dripping down your chest. He loves the look of you like this, a mess for him. Your thighs are shaking and your arms burn with the effort to hold yourself up, and there’s a tinge in your neck from his movements. 

Unabashed sounds fall from Cassian’s lips, his voice rough and edged with his incoming orgasm. Moans and pants and filthy fucking words that have the ache between your legs becoming a full on desperate throb for any sort of friction. 

Being like this, the source of his pleasure, even when he’s guiding you with a hand at your nape…it makes you feel…powerful. And you want more of that feeling; knowing that you can make Cassian like this, a puddle for your mouth, your touch, your sounds.

You want to see how much you can get away with.

Planting your hands to the cutting muscles of his hips, you work yourself free. Cassian can feel your resistance, slowing, his fingers slipping from your hair as you sit up. His brows are tight with worry, and he ignores the heaving of his chest, the pleasure wracking his bones to make sure you’re okay.

But your eyes are bright, alive and not filled with tears or discomfort. You’re wiping saliva from your face with the back of your hand, and Cassian’s confused until he’s not, when you climb on top of him and sit on his cock with a determination only his girl could have.

“I’m going to ride you, baby,” you tell him, rubbing your wet cunt across his already sopping cock. He grunts at the feeling but his words catch in his throat because you’re not waiting for a response, sinking down onto him and rolling your hips on the way down. It’s a move you’ve never done before, coming up with it only now in the confidence that’s coursing through your blood. It makes Cassian bare his throat to you a little, and fuck do you like that. “But you’re not allowed to cum.”

“Is that so?” he asks, voice filled with curiosity and nonchalance. He lifts his hands, settling them behind his head as he watches you hungrily. “And why is that?”

“Because I’m in charge,” you answer, and the self-assurance in your tone has him agreeing with pleasure.

“Alright, sweetheart. Show me what you’ve got.”

So you do. You pull out all of the stops, using every trick that you have and know he loves. You even use words, trying something new, speaking to him with the arrogance that he does you when he’s fucking you within an inch of your life. 

Cassian’s cockiness turns quickly, hands falling from his head to touch, but only where you’ll allow. He grumbles, frustrated, but obeys. You flood the bond with praise in response, and Cassian nearly melts.

As much as he tries to keep himself in check, pretend that you’re not affecting him as much as you are, you know that he’s getting close.

“How are you doing down there, baby?” you ask, trying to keep the tease from your voice. You can feel the way he’s trying to hold himself back, trying to think of anything besides what your cunt is doing to his cock, your words to his mind, and your fingers to his body.

“I’m great,” Cassian answers, but it’s strained. You bite back a wolfish grin. If he wants to try and pretend, you’ll make his impending orgasm worse.

“Is that so?” You repeat his words from earlier and he nods. “You can pretend all you want, baby, but I know,” you drift off, trailing your fingers up the expanse of his massive chest. It jerks with a heavy breath as you roll your hips once more in a slow, leisurely swirl. Tapping right where his heart lies, you lean in close, fluttering your lashes just how he likes, lips a hair's breadth away from his gasping ones. “That if I bounce on your cock only a few more times,” each word is accentuated with a bob up and down his length. His hands steel themselves to your hips, but he makes no move to lift you, to fuck you like the wild beast raging inside of him wants. He knows he won’t get what he wants if he does, and you likely won’t go near him for a week. “You’ll be cumming right in my tight little cunt, whether you’re trying to or not.”

Cassian throws his head back into the pillow with a groan, his fingers tightening on your skin, eliciting a pleasured gasp. His hazel eyes are hidden behind shut eyes but it’s okay because yours have rolled into the back of your skull as you sink deeper, move faster, his cock filling you to the brim. 

“Fuck, sweetheart,” Cassian breathes. He can’t focus, your beautiful body is doing too much. There’s an undeniable heat coiling his gut and the tip of his cock hits your womb, dragging down your constricting, soaking wet walls. Yours is the best pussy he’s ever been in, ever seen, and he needs to mark you. “I need to cum.”

“Yeah?” you taunt, moving faster. Every bounce on his cock makes you feel so incredibly full, but there’s more that you want. You want his cum, want him fucking it into your womb. You want to keep him there, hold his cock in your cunt until he’s hard once more and do it all over again. You don’t want him leaving you until there’s so much of his cum in your cunt that each thrust sends the silky white dripping between your thighs. You want to paint his skin with it, lick it up, share it with him. “You need to cum, Cass?”

“I need to cum.” It’s almost a fucking whine, for Mothers sake. His tone has pitched higher as he tries to stave away the orgasm threatening to rip his body apart. There’s nothing for him to think about that would help cease this lance of fire traveling down his dick with each of your hot motions, his head is empty of all thoughts but you. “Please.”

You smirk, slowing your hips to a gentle roll. The sound of frustration Cassian makes has you getting wetter, not often in charge during sex like this. It feels…amazing. You feel powerful, having this size of a male beneath you, trying to tear himself apart at the seams in order not to cum, to follow your direction like the good boy he’s trying to be.

“No,” you answer simply, coming to a halt. You can feel the tension of his body, muscles straining with the effort to keep still, to not spill into you and fill your greedy cunt. It’s extra greedy tonight, with the taste of control you have. “You’re not going to cum.”

Every whimper that escapes Cassian’s tongue has your cunt clenching. Never did you think that this could feel so good. Is this how he feels when he’s leading a troop? To have someone listen without question, even when they so desperately want to have it their way?

“I can’t hold it, sweetheart,” he pleads, peeling his eyes open in desperation to look up at you. You sit on his dick, spine straight, tall like a goddess. Your forehead is dotted with sweat and your cheeks are flushed pink, creeping down your throat to your chest, nipples tight. Your hands are planted on his own chest, swiping over his own nipples as if trying to calm him down. All it does is add to the erotic sensations swirling through his body.

“You can, and you will,” your voice takes on a harsher tone. You haven’t cum yet so Cassian isn’t allowed to. You are going to service yourself first, and then, if he’s been good, he’ll get to cum. “I know you can, Cass. You’re doing amazing so far.”

The praise goes straight to his cock. You can nearly feel it throb inside of you, and you clench around him just to tease a little more, see how good his control really is. 

Cassian meets your eyes, his gaze sharper than it was a moment ago. Your heart falters for a moment when you see the challenge lying within. His demeanor shifts and he tugs you down, pulling you flush against his chest, his arms winding around your waist to lock you into place as he leans in close, breath hot in your ear. “When this is all over, when you’re done with this little power trip,” he starts. The threat rumbling his tone goes straight to your keening cunt. “And you’re still aching for more—” Cassian’s teeth brush the shell of your ear and you shudder. It’s hot, but neither of you are moving, chests fighting for breath. His cock is hard and hot inside of you but you don’t dare move as warmth floods your system. He’s playing dirty, using his words to try and get you off like you don’t know his games. “I’m going to return the favor. Show you exactly what you’re doing to me, sweetheart.”

Fucking fuck, does he know how to get you. The slight curve of his pink lips upwards shows you that he knows it too, felt that unmistakable flutter of your walls quivering at the thought of being pinned to the bed, Cassian ripping orgasm after orgasm from your shaking body until you’re nothing more than a puddle of tears and moondust.

But you’re in charge right now, you have to remind yourself. You steel the walls in your mind and catch Cassian noticing. His eyebrows twitch only slightly.

“Oh Cassian,” you sigh, pushing at his broad shoulders to sit yourself up. His muscles shift beneath your grip and it feels nice. While he may have accomplished calming his cock down a little with those threats of his, you can still feel that tightness in your own groin, the one drawing to be released. You brush the tendrils stuck to his face behind his ear with a savage smile that says you accept. “Threats aren’t going to help you this time.”

His throat bobs and you want to lean down and lick it. 

Your thighs are burning but you pick up your pace, both you and Cassian releasing matching moans as you go from no movement to riding his cock like it will give you all the riches in life. It has, so far. You love your mate dearly, so much so that the emotion is near overwhelming. Tears prick your eyes at the thought but you bite your lip, focusing on the sting. You’re the strong one right now. 

“Fuck, you feel so good, baby,” you whine, head falling back on your shoulders. Cassian’s hands find your tits and there’s only a sliver of your brain that can focus on anything besides the feeling of his cock dragging against your walls, hitting that spot inside of you that makes you feel like you’re going to combust. It’s making sure that his touch doesn’t turn demanding, guiding you up and down no matter how badly you want to release your power to him. 

“You’d feel so much better stuffed with my cum, sweetheart,” Cassian grouses, watching you with bright eyes.

“Don’t want you to cum,” you mewl a little, grasping onto his hands with your own. Your orgasm is cresting again, but you don’t want this to end. “I like being in charge.” 

Cassian’s hands slip from yours, winding down your torso to get a full grab of your ass before trailing up your skin so he can grip your chin and force your face down to meet his. 

“I love you being in charge,” he admits, grunting at your movements.

“You do?” you gasp at a particularly pleasurable jab of his cock, switching the angles as you lean closer to him. The wildfire in your bones that connects the both of you is ablaze now, an inferno of passion that’s nearly burnt to the end of its rope. You prepare yourself for the explosion by clawing your fingers into Cassian’s gloriously tanned skin. 

Cassian steals a kiss, and you allow him to. His mouth is hot and dominant and you’re desperate for his taste, his large hands on your body and his cock in your cunt. “Yes,” he hisses when he pulls away, barely. “I love when you take what you want from me, telling me how good my cock feels stuffed inside of you. If I never had to leave this tight, wet cunt of yours I wouldn’t. Fuck Rhys and fuck the courts. You’re mine, sweetheart, and I’ll do anything you ask, no matter how much it hurts.”

“Cass,” you cling to him, pressing your head into his collarbone as the implosion happens. “I’m cumming!”

“Yes, sweetheart,” he encourages, planting his feet onto the bed and fucking into you now that you’ve stopped moving, jerking only slightly as your orgasm locks your muscles. You cry out in pleasure as he works you through it, liquid fire burning your body. 

It mirrors him and he gasps, feeling the rush of your orgasm as he tries desperately to hold himself back. “Sweetheart, please, can I cum?”

You moan affirmation because you don’t think you can speak anymore. Your brain is mush, your cunt sensitive as Cassian grips you tight and fucks up into you, chasing his own orgasm. You whine at the feeling but he likes that, his body shuddering as he releases his hot cum into you.

“That’s it, sweetheart, take all of it. I’ll fill you up good,” Cassian’s breath is hot in your ear but his words have your brain clearing for only a moment. 

You swat at him, huffing, before melting back into the warmth of his body. “That’s supposed to be my line.”

His chest vibrates with laughter beneath you and you can’t help but to smile, accepting the sweet kiss he presses to your lips. “Sorry, sweetheart. Maybe next time.”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•

Kinktober Taglist:@bunnymallowo@jeannineee@icey–stars@hannzoaks@harrystylesfan2686@azriels-shadowsinger @alysena2 @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @impossibelle @glitterypirateduck @reading-moongirl

#cassian x reader #cassian smut #acotar #azsazz #acomaf #acowar #cassian #azsazz kinktober 2023 #sub!cassian

[knavves]

HIT MY BRAIN, DGAF ft various bllk men — which of the bllk boys r absolutely mf hung ?

wc: 0.8k ノ cw + tw : nsfw (18+). fem reader. blow jobs. size kink(?). dacryphilia. masturbation. use of pet names. mirror sex. belly/throat bulges. dirty talk. praise. riding. mentions of blood.

shidou is definitely huge and he knows it too. "too big for you, pretty? i know you can take more than that." he's already bulging in your throat even though he's not even fully sheathed inside your mouth, so heavy on your tongue. the stretch of your jaw fucking burns but his groans are so hot that the slight pain doesn't bother you so much. one of your hands wrap around the base of his cock, stroking whatever you couldn't reach with your mouth. the other one is knuckles deep inside your own pussy, wishing he was buried deep somewhere else. "there you go. fuck so good, such a good girl for me." the slurping and gagging noises that ricochet off the walls are downright filthy but he loves it, just as much as he loves your runny and smudged mascara. he places his large hand on the back of your head, shoving you down further on his length as he shoots his load down your throat. hearing you choke and seeing you struggle to swallow the mouthful of his cum has him hard all over again.

you're gonna have to hear me out on karasu, he is absolutely hung i know it. he loves to have you pressed up against the dresser, the wooden furniture rocking and thudding into the floor with each strong thrust of his hips. he places you in front of the mirror too, a firm grip on your jaw to make you ogle at yourself in the reflection. your eyes lock on the way your tits bounce in suite of the loud slapping noises. the drool that escapes from the corners of your opened mouth that spills uncontrollable moans is downright embarrassing but you can't reach up to wipe it, not when you need to stabilize yourself as he brutally pounds into you. but your eyes are especially drawn to where he's bulging in your abdomen. "cryin already?" he coos into your ear, his warm breath fanning your ear. he was right, you noted as you peered back at yourself in the mirror to see fat tears spilling over. you drop your head to look away from your fucked out self making him click his tongue in annoyance, "nuh uh, baby. keep yer eyes on yourself. look so beautiful."

aiku thinks you look so cute right now, cunt fluttering and squeezing him so nicely as he sinks his cock into you. you're trembling where he has you caged beneath him, shaking your head and murmuring variations of "s too big!" and "not gonna fit, oli..". but he only shushes you, kissing your forehead and whispering sweet nothings to soothe you. "you can take it, baby. that's it.. see i knew you could." he stretches you out so so good, its no wonder several women flocked to him before he met you. but now you had him in the palm of your hand, you were the one who he came home to everyday, bending you over and drilling his fat cock into you whenever you ask. like now where he has you bent in half, legs dangling over his broad shoulders as he fucks you dumb. he has you seeing stars, pulling his cock out until just the tip is in before slamming all of his girth back into your weeping pussy.

it takes all of barou's self control to not flip you over and pound into you until you can't utter anything but his name. but regardless of his desires, he uncharacteristically takes it slow with you and lets you take your time lowering yourself onto him. it feels like he's splitting you in half, your bottom lip is tucked in between your teeth, threatening to draw blood. "you can do it. i got you, sweetheart." his voice is still gruff but his words are so unusually sweet. when you finally bottom out, he almost lets out a guttural moan at the imprint of his dick in your stomach. "feel that, baby?" he smirks when you gasp as he cruelly presses down on the bulge in your stomach. he's so deep. it takes you a few moments to adjust to the sheer size of him, no matter how many times you've fucked you always struggle to take him. "atta girl." he grunts as you start bouncing in his lap, hands sliding up to your waist to dig his rough hands into your flesh. the time it took to prep you was all worth it to feel you squeeze his cock so nicely with each raise of your hips and to hear the cute whimpers that left your lips. your voices tangled with one another as he muttered between moans how tight you were. you'd squeal and curl your toes every time he'd thrust up into you, his cock slamming against your sweet spot. "cum all over my cock, baby. make a mess for me."

© knavves : reposting, plagiarizing, modifying, and translating is NOT allowed.

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