I Just Saw A Tiktok Video Captioned "how It Went When My Autistic Brother Watched My 11 Moth Old" And

ANGEL — SAM WINCHESTER.

SUMMARY — sam starts to grow fond of an angel. they have grown more comfortable around each other, and tensions run high when dean leaves for a bar.

WARNINGS — no plot all porn... 18+, softdom!sam, unprotected sex, p in v, oral, f!receiving, unexperienced!reader, angel!reader, LOTS of praise, biting, creampie, mentions of religion, sam's a sweetheart. he's also a freak.

WC — 4.3k. i got carried away.

A/N — i feel like i'm going to hell just from the warnings alone. i erm. i don't even know. shout out the two people who asked to get tagged in this 🙏 first ever smut fic, if you hate i'll probably delete my account. i am not editing 4.3k words btw. i'm lazy.

angels weren't supposed to enjoy the feeling of a human. that much was well known.

and when you came from heaven to assist castiel in whatever the hell it was that he was doing, that was repeated to you over and over again. these 'humans', they weren't important. your only job was to make sure sam winchester didn't get hurt. that was all this was supposed to be. a casual round of protecting the winchesters.

you didn't understand human norms, and at first, sam didn't like you. you didn't take personally, of course, because, well, sam hated any angel at first. castiel quickly explained to you about the brother's and how you'd be spending more time with them while he awaited directions. honestly, you couldn't care less about either of the brothers, too. they were hunters, and you were an angel. you weren't supposed to mix anyway.

sam winchester was more interesting than his older and shorter brother, though. sam was thoughtful and a lot more curious about you than he let on at first. as you spent more time 'watching' over him, you realized he enjoyed asking you questions about heaven, and the angels, and about castiel. and you tried to answer them to the best of your ability.

sam was more open to learning about you than dean, and he was more considerate when it came to teaching you knew things. slowly, he started defending you against dean's antics, and he learned about how curious you were, too.

he spent many late nights awake with you, struggling with his insomnia. you made it much more enjoyable. on the off chance that he did get some sleep, he'd wake up to you in the bunker, lounging and reading one of his books. as soon as you saw him awake, you'd pounce on him, eager to talk all about it.

sam found you endearing in the same way you found him intriguing. you both taught each other different things. he taught you about different emotions and how to communicate them to him. he showed you his favorite movies. he told you about his time in standford and about how he was studying law. you taught him about the bible, about praying and how you'd always come if he prayed for you. you taught him about heaven and hell, and angels and everything in between.

eventually, you two become friends, as much as younger sam would have hated to admit that. he showed you what friendship was and what it was like to worry about someone more than yourself. he explained to you what love was and about heartbreak. sam watched as you turned from this unemotional, blunt angel into a person, crafted by the things you loved.

you two kissed about six months after hunting with him. you were unexerienced, and painfully so, and your first kiss was nothing but giggles and awkward stares. the second, third, and fourth ones weren't any better. sam was ridiculously dotting and patient, and even though you were an angel and didn't understand what a relationship was, you still tried for him, and he loved you for it.

after a week of sneaky kisses and rushing into each other's rooms once dean fell asleep, you seemed to have gotten the hang of it. you and sam hadn't done anything remotely sexual other than a few hands-under-the-bra's and one /bad/ attempt at a handjob. sam was enthralled in watching you become more confident and learning how to touch him the way that he liked and how to kiss him properly. so he didn't mind taking things slow.

you two agreed to not have sex yet, partially because to you, it was a sin, and partially because you didn't know what you were doing. sam had no issue waiting. that was, until tonight.

you don't even remember how this happened, honestly — the lingering touches became more frequent, more needy, and at some point, sam had slipped you out of your shirt and bra. you'd barely even made it to his room /thank god for dean being out at a bar tonight/, before he was kissing you, his lips hiding something more intense tonight.

you wouldn't have protested anyways, but as soon as your shirt was gone, sam was all over you.

"i know it feels dirty, honey. but it's not. i wouldn't lie to you." sam hums against your throat, kissing the soft skin. when he talks like that, all low and soothing, you might just believe anything he says. he pulls back to look at your concerned expression, and his smile softens.

his movement stills, and you frown, almost wishing sam would convince you to do more. that feeling in your stomach, the one that felt close to nausea, started to feel nice. and you craved more of it. you craved more of sam.

although his desire outweighed his guilt for ruining the purity of an angel like this, sam still sat up for a moment, his hazel eyes practically begging you. he was nothing, if not a gentleman. "do you want this?" sam asks, hushed and spoken like a prayer, and you think you might get sent to hell just from how he's looking at you.

sam's hair is a ruffled mess, and his long sleeve black shirt was rolled up to his elbows. his carhartt jacket had long been discarded by you, tossed somewhere into the dark abyss that was the dingy, horribly lit motel room. he looks beautiful.

"i do, sammy, but—" you breathe out shakily. before you can finish answering, his hands are on your hips, tugging you closer to him. you're both standing up, his large hands moving up your skirt to trail up your sides. sam can feel your back arch against his hands slightly, and it's taking everything in him to not lose his resolve.

san, who previously said he was okay with waiting, felt like a selfish man tonight. he could honestly care less about your innocence right now. what he did care about was you, though. sam knew that if you wanted him to continue, he wouldn't be able to stop.

"but what?" sam mumbled, his fingertips digging against your hips. his erection was pressed dangerously against your thigh. he shifted you until you were pressed against him — he knew what he was doing and the effect it was having on you. you didn't answer and could only grumble a complaint out.

"just needa taste you, honey. we don't have to go all the way if you don't want to." sam's words are a contradiction to how he was staring at you. "although, i have thought about doing more." he hums, and he has a slight shit eating grin on his face. it's sort of surprising that this is your sweet sammy.

you're conflicted— this is wrong. sinful. but there was a bubbling heat in your stomach, and you wanted nothing more than to make sam feel good. maybe a part of being human was indulging in your sins. you pout at him slightly, and sam has to stop himself from moving his hips up against you. he doesn't just want this, he needs this. he needs to corrupt you, to ruin your innocence until all you can think about is him.

"fine. be gentle, though, sam. i mean it." you relent, although you didn't need much convincing. honestly, if he tried to pull off of you, you'd be the one begging him to touch you and not the other way around.

"oh, fuck—" sam groans, and he almost instantly falls to his knees. his hands are tugging off your jeans faster than you can process. "you don't know how long i've wanted this." his tone makes you feel dirty, and you can't help when your brows crumple into a slight glare. you didn't know what he was doing, but you wanted him to hurry it up.

you help him kick your jeans off around your ankles and step out of them. you're left in your cotton panties, and for some reason, it turns sam on more to know you weren't planning for this. honestly, neither was he.

"leave these on." two fingers slip underneath the elastic by your thigh, tugging them and letting them go, the fabric snapping against your skin. the action makes you suck in a breath. sam's lips make their way to your upper thighs, sucking and kissing at the sensitive skin. it's not enough, and he knows that. he's driving you crazy on purpose to see you squirm for him.

"sam—" you chastise, like a scold, your hand running through his hair and tugging on it gently, trying to bring your hips closer to him. sam fucking moans. he moans at getting his hair pulled, and it makes your brows crease in bewilderment. /you would definitely be keeping that in mind./

sam looks up at you with those same puppydog eyes, and you swear you're going to burst into literal flames and have your wings removed instantly. "needa taste my girl's pussy. y'gonna let me?" sam says softly, his voice muffled by your thigh, gently biting on a spot. when you whimper, he pulls back to kiss at the forming bruise, his hands massaging at the fat of your ass.

truth be told, you'd probably let him fold into a pretzel at this point, but you didn't want to stroke his massive ego.

the noise you make is answer enough, and sam deftly pulls your panties to the side. his hand brings yours to hold them. he needs *both* hands for devouring you. sam's two middle fingers move to collect your slick from your folds, and you shiver. his brows raise, and he smiles again. "you're soaked, baby. you really want me that bad?" he asks, and you're nodding quickly.

sam can't hold back when you look this pretty above him. you can feel his breath against you. even just looking at you bare in front of him is enough to make him want to cum in his fucking jeans.

he flattens his tongue against you, and your hips stutter against his mouth. you've never felt anything like this before. you can feel sam's grin against your cunt, his hands cupping into your ass and pulling your hips further into his mouth.

seeing such a large man, especially one like sam, at his knees, lapping at your pussy like a fucking starved man— it makes your head fuzzy.

without warning, his middle finger slips into you. your hands move to his hair to steady yourself, massaging at the brown strands, pushing some from off his sticky forehead. the concentration on his face is almost cute, but it soon becomes too hard to keep your eyes open.

another finger slips past your folds, and you're mouthing his name like a prayer. his fingers are rocking into you at a slow speed, but his mouth— it was fucking dirty, the way he'd suck on your clit, only pulling away to breathe. everytime he pulled away, a string of saliva followed, connected between you two. his chin was slick with your arousal, his chest panting with heavy breaths. and then he was right back to devouring you.

maybe sam winchester was the devil.

your hands tug on his hair slightly, and sam groans against you. the heat in your stomach was building and sam was near drunk on your pussy. when he looked up at you with those hazel eyes, you moaned, your thighs tremoring.

"sam— sam, it feels too good... please—" you breathed out, panting too now, and sam didn't relent, no matter how hard you were tugging at his hair. his hand was holding your hip hard not daring to let you squirm away from him. indents of his fingertips would ruin your pretty skin by the morning. you had to shy away from his intense gaze.

sam pulled away, still fucking his fingers into you. "eyes on me, baby." he mumbled, before sinking flush against your clit again. you listened, although your face was an embarrassing hue of pink. sam was just as loud and needy, if not worse than you. everytime your thighs clenched around him, or you tugged on his hair, profanities and groans slipped from his lips. he needed you.

sam kept his tongue latched onto you, his eyes showing that he was as desperate as you were to make you cum. the noises he was making were filth, soft grunts and groans, all muffled by your puffy pussy. when your eyes flickered down, you noticed that one of his hands were palming himself through his jeans.

with every shake and spasm, it was like sam knew you were close. he was using his hands to rock your hips more onto his tongue, your weight practically suffocating him. sam would gladly die a happy man in between your folds, if it meant getting to look up at your beautiful face contorting in pleasure. his chest swells at the fact that he is the one who gets to touch you like this.

that feeling returned as quickly as it left, and soon you were cumming on his face, your legs shaking as he kept his fingers curled into your folds. that was probably the best thing you'd felt since coming to earth. sam pressed a kiss to your overstimulated clit, before kissing up your stomach, your breasts, collarbone, and finally standing to his full height over you.

"how was that?" sam asks, licking the wetness off his fingers. as much as he wanted to ruin you, he also wanted to make sure you were comfortable.

heavy pants still wracked both of your bodies, your thighs aching and barely able to hold your own weight. he had the audacity to ask that after making you feel things you hadn't felt in your centuries alive? in between deep breaths, you shot him a slight glare.

"what do you think?" you tutted, puffing his lips out in that gorgeous pout that made sam was to kiss you stupid, holding onto his biceps so you didn't lose balance.

sam grins in response, his hands moving to your bare hips, pressing you into him. his cock was fucking painfully hard and he had to refrain from rutting against you. "i need to fuck you, honey." fuck sam and his beautiful eyes, pleading at you. his hand leads your to palm him from over his jeans, and he moans softly, so prettily.

you were conflicted. you knew his cock would feel so much better than his fingers, but this was wrong. "sammy—" you say in the same chastising voice that drives him insane.

"please, let me fuck you. need to feel you around my dick. fuck, doesn't even have to be all the way." sam pleads, and you have a hard time saying no to that. he was practically begging you. you sigh at how weak you were for this man. "please fuck me, sam."

sam eyes widen slightly, and he can't help his grin as he pushes you back against the bed. his eyes stay on you as he pulls his shirt off, discarding it across the motel floor along with all of yours. you can't help but stare at him. all tanned, scarred, and bruised, despite being young. it was so different compared to your imperfect skin, free of any blemishes or let alone scars.

sam's tantalizingly slow as he takes off his belt, followed by his jeans. he's fucking huge. that much you can tell by his bulge alone. your eyes widen slightly when he strips his boxers off.

he wanted to take his time with you, to treat you like the goddamn angel you were, to wrack every noise he can from your lips. but, sam was impatient as hell. and he was really, really hard.

"you're beautiful." sam coos, caging you in between his much larger frame. there is a shine in his gaze, so soft and loving, that it almost makes you feel queasy. he's not doing this because he's bored or because he wants to get off. sam's doing this because you're his world.

"you're alright." you respond, not able to hold back the giggle that escaped your lips afterward, especially when you felt sam's annoyed sigh against the crook of your neck. you can feel his irritated grin. sam fell in love with that devilish laugh of yours, and he found it endearing that even during this, he could make you sound like that.

it was such a sharp contrast from how emotionless and... awkward— you first were when you met the winchester brothers. sam has loved watching you adapt this sassy personality, loved eyeing you while you admire new things, hearing the way your voice heightened whenever you laughed, the way you took over parts of his and dean's own quirks and personalities.

"just alright? you wound me, angel."

this time, you rolled your eyes. you turn your head to the side to press your lips against the mole below his right eye. "you're beautiful too, sammy. you already know that." you huff out, your tone unmistakably soft. sam scoffed, nipping at her neck slightly. it was nice to hear that from you, regardless of what he thought about himself.

unfortunately for you, the compliment rushes to sam's head. he sits up slightly, his cock pressed against your lower stomach, a hand brushing over your cheek, moving your fanned hair out of your face. "are you sure you're okay with this? we can stop— i'll put on a movie, and we can forget—"

you interrupt sam's worries by pressing a kiss to his palm. "yes sam, i'm sure. please." and that small act of intimacy followed by your voice pleading for him was enough reassurance for sam. no need to tell him twice.

sam pumps himself a few times, his eyes not once leaving yours. "scoot your hips up for me, honey." you oblige, and you can feel his cock pressed against your clothed entrance. the sight leaves nothing for the imagination and sam sighs as his fingers pulls your panties down to your ankles.

sam looks like he's in fucking heaven, his lips parted and staring at you bare in front of him. his thumb habitually moves to your clit, rubbing soft circles against it just to watch you squirm under him.

"sam, quit being a damn tease." you frown and wiggle your hips into his more. his gaze is making you shy, something you didn't know was even possible as an angel.

"innocent angel, my ass." sam mumbles under his breath, but he obliges, lining up his cock to you. he collects your slick with his tip, dragging the wetness over your already overstimulated clit. sam rubs it against your folds a few times, before pressing only about halfway in. the moan that leaves your lips is heavenly, so much so that sam's head has to fall to your shoulder and bites it softly so he doesn't cum too fast like a damn high schooler.

"you're so fucking tight, shit—" sam groans and it's so dirty coming from him. he's usually so sweet to you, so hearing this is different. and arousing. but different. you'd expect this talk out of dean, not sam.

sam really wished he would've slept around a little more in college now because it was taking far too much concentration to not finish already.

"need to fuck you, baby. please." sam all but whimpers out. all of your beliefs, your nightly prayers, all of it was gone the second you felt him inside of you. you can only nod in response, your hands tugging at his waist to come closer to you.

sam stills, looking at you for a moment like he can't believe you want this. and slowly, he pushes in all the way, and you both share a pornographic moan.

sam is quiet as he lets you adjust to his size. he wasn't one to toot his own horn, but he was pretty big. and even though your vessel wasn't a virgin, mentally, you still were. sam had a mantra of things going through his head — the main ones being: please don't cum, please don't cum, please don't cum. don't say i love you. don't move too fast yet. let her adjust.

sam leans down to kiss your forehead. "good?" he hums.

you nod again. "hurts a little." and sam is nothing but patient, kissing each of your temples before brushing your hair away.

"i promise you're doing so good. it's gonna hurt for a moment. it'll feel better soon. just relax." sam murmured against your shoulder, his lips sighing down towards your collarbone. "gonna move now, sweet girl." calloused palms are pressing your thighs to your chest. he leans down enough so you can hold on to his shoulders if you need.

with one hand still on the back of your leg, and the other one cupping one of your breasts, he pulls out almost all the way before rocking in slowly. your eyes screwing shut from pleasure is enough to test the waters with a more heavy thrust. "that's it, baby. look at you—" sam groans, his fingertips digging into your skin. his eyes were glued to where his cock was entering you rhythmically, and god, he could get addicted to that sight. sam could fucking see where the tip of his cock was pressing into your belly. his palm moved over it, adding slight pressure to your lower pelvis. the feeling made him groan out your name softly. he was just as loud as you were. "so beautiful."

part of you wanted sam to shut up so you could focus on the feeling of your walls fluttering around his cock, but the other half of you enjoyed the flithy words leaving his flushed lips.

"oh, fuck. sammy, 's too much—" you whimpered out, your hand squeezing his biceps. your legs wrapped around his waist to bring him closer, the balls of your heels digging against his ass. sam think he likes that you're not very vocal. it makes every beg, every moan that much more special to him. he was the only one who got to see his angel falling apart like this.

everything about sam is fucking massive, from his height, to his sheer size difference over you. it shouldn't have been shocking that his dick was huge too, but you felt it now. you felt every single inch, stretching you out, your arousal slipping down his shaft. sam's thrusts grew more feverish, his shaggy brown bangs falling into his face as his head fell forward slightly. "i know you can handle it baby." he grunted in response to your plea, hazel eyes fucked out with lust.

that feeling in your lower belly returned, and now, at least, you know what it meant. it was overwhelming, but not enough for you. your hand reached for sam's hand, guiding it to you clit. sam thought that was the hottest thing he'd ever fucking seen, and shuddered slightly. "you wanna cum around my cock? is that it, sweetheart?" sam asks, a small, contemplating smile on his lips.

you're writhing under his cock, your back arching off the bed, his thumb rubbing soft circles around your nub. you tap his bicep in warning of your approaching orgasm, but he doesn't stop. he doesn't slow down either. in fact, he ruts his hips faster. the feeling of you clenching around his dick is enough to send him over the edge, too. he's biting down hard on his cheek to stop himself from cumming before you. he wants, needs to see you cum first, before he can.

your face contorts into pleasure, and you cum hard, sam still fucking you through your orgasm. he groans and his eyes close when he watches you making a mess all over him. "thaaat's it. that's my girl." he encourages, the feeling of your walls clenching around him tipping him over the edge. "fuck. gonna fill you up." he grunts against your shoulder, his hips stuttering slightly and you moan as you feel his cock twitch inside you, before you feel cum spurt into your cunt.

sam pulls out a moment after, his eyes blown out when he watches his spend leak from your pulsating hole. he uses two fingers to spread it around over your folds. once he's satisfied with his handiwork, he slumps down into the bed next to you.

you're still a panting, sighing mess. you feel your legs twitch occasionally, and you're finally coming to your senses. you were just fucked stupid by your best friend. a human.

"jesus, sam. is this really what humans are doing?" you ask, out of genuine curiosity, and sam pinches your side with a slight laugh. he looks spent, almost as bad as you. his head falls to your shoulder, pressing his lips to the soft skin present.

"the lucky ones, yeah." sam huffs in amusement. "you're okay, right? i didn't hurt you, or pressure you or anything?" his voice is a little persistent, worried, already overthinking like he wasn't just inside of you.

"'course not. that was amazing. i think i'd go to hell if it meant having sex everyday— i see why castiel was encouraging me into trying this." you tilt your head to the side, and sam raises an eyebrow. he didn't even dare ask what odd things castiel told you about. nor did he want to know. he couldn't see castiel doing anyone without scaring them away with his bluntness first.

sam chooses to ignore that, leaning over to pepper kisses onto your cheeks, nose, and forehead. anywhere you'll let him at this point. "you did amazing. absolutely drained me. y'sure you haven't done that before?" he teases, and you roll your eyes at him. your eyes watched him with concern when sam stood.

"alright, crazy girl. let's get you cleaned up."

one having to sit in the other’s lap when space is tight and them both blushing like crazy over it With teammate Max please ❤️

a/n: I’m sorry if it’s too short but I just messaged my crush for the first time and don’t have the guts to check if he answered bc I’m a coward with rejection issues.

this doesn’t look very professional | Max Verstappen blurb

You hated the TikTok.

They should be banned from existence because they carried the existence of community managers, I ever eager marketing people whose ideas always involved getting dirty or things like that. Of course everyone enjoyed the semi formal conversation between Max and Daniel.

But now you wanted to disappear as you noticed only two small couches, one for Christian Horner and the other for you? For Max? It didn’t make any sense, of course this was scheduled and crew knew it was both you and Max.

Max was asking for a new chair or something, trying to use his firm charm that only he knew how to make it work, instead you were serious, lipa on a straight smile because you don’t recall this ever happening when Checo or Daniel were driving.

“Guys, I’m sorry but I have a meeting in fifteen minutes,” Christian checked his Tag Heuer. “Let’s get this done,”

“We can leave it for another day,” Max suggested and everyone, except you, denied his idea.

“We can make it look intentional, you can sit on top of Max’s lap and viewers will think you’re good friends, it’s a win-win,”

Before you could protest, Christian chimed in, saying it was a terrific idea.

Of course Max sat first. His body rigid and weirdly placed his arms on the armrests, making it clear he wasn’t touching you. His stance didn’t change when you sat on his leg, trying your best to not touch him and being almost on his knee, ready to run away

The interview started, you noticed Max’s body relax a little bit against you, which resulted in you very slowly making yourself more comfortable on his leg

But then…

The screen that contained a fan question from twitter was too long and your eyesight wasn’t that good. Forgetting you were sitting on your teammate’s lap, you inclined your body and losing balance.

Your face was ready to meet the ground and it wouldn’t be pretty; there’d be blood and maybe a broken tooth.

But you felt Max’s quick hands holding your waist tightly, very tightly.

Nobody said anything, they didn’t even laugh as your cheeks flushed, and Max’s squirming underneath told you he was just as red, suddenly the room feeling too small.

But his hands didn’t leave your waist for the rest of the interview.

HAPPY 100 FOLLOWERS!!!! Slow Down (RK900 x Reader NSFW Oneshot)

A/N: hehehehe we're at 100 followers now so i thought—hey, let's celebrate by posting something ~ s p i c y ~

Slow Down (Nines x fem!Reader)

Nines is acting weird.

You decide to figure out why.

Tags: Deviant Upgraded Connor | RK900, Upgraded Connor | RK900 Is Bad at Feelings, Sex Pollen (but like a virus), idk don't question it too much, Smut, Shameless Smut, Dubious Consent, Vaginal Sex, Rough Sex, Overstimulation, Reader-Insert, No Y/N, Semi-Public Sex

Read here or on AO3.

Something about Nines has been… off since you left the crime scene together—a WR400, ripped to pieces, in the slums of Detroit; her joints wrenched apart, wires twisted and torn; components, dozens of them—broken, modified, scattered the floorboards of an old, rotting house; thirium, pooling underneath, splattering the walls in grotesquely abstract shapes and patterns.

It had been hard to look at.

You had suggested interfacing with her—it had seemed like a good idea, at the time. You figured maybe, if there was any latent information floating around in her CPU, maybe Nines could find it.

Maybe it would help you find who did this to her.

It could be the best lead you were going to get, you’d said. And he had agreed.

But maybe that had been a mistake.

You glance over at him from the passenger seat of your car, worrying the inside of your lip between your teeth as you scan his profile.

It’s dark—nearly midnight—but the intermittent light from the passing streetlamps is more than enough to see the tension in his shoulders, the way he sits ramrod straight, fingers digging into the surface of your steering wheel. It’s more than enough to see how his his brows furrow. How they’re knitted together into a deep scowl.

He stares ahead, ignores you even though you know he knows you’re watching him, watching the LED at his temple flicker a dull yellow, cycling around and around and around. You look back down at your hands, resting awkwardly on your lap. Take a moment to pick at the non-existent dirt underneath your nails.

The moment he’d touched her—artificial skin retracted, revealing smooth white plastic and unfeeling steel—he’d recoiled, like he’d been burned.

And he’s been acting so weird since.

You clear your throat. “Hey, uh, are you—”

“I’m fine, Detective,” he says. Snaps, really.

“Right,” you murmur, shifting in your seat. You turn your head to stare out the window. Lean your forehead against the glass and let out a quiet sigh, watching as Detroit slides by in gloomy twilight, blurred by rain that streaks across the window.

You try not to think too hard about the way he’d jerked away from you when you touched his shoulder; how he’d flinched when you handed him your keys and just barely brushed his open palm.

The rest of the drive passes in stiff silence, and by the time you make it back, the station is nearly deserted, with only a few bleary-eyed humans and a handful of androids wandering the premises.

Nines is careful not to touch you when he drops your keys back into your hand. Ignores the concerned look you give him and strides towards his desk. You follow, trail after him and sag down into the squeaky swivel chair at your desk.

You chance another glance over at him, across your connected desks. You lean forward on your elbows, watching his LED, a steady amber that flashes red when your gazes meet. Just as you open your mouth to speak, he stands.

“Excuse me,” he says, swallowing thickly.

And then he’s gone.

You chew at your bottom lip again, watch him leave the bullpen and turn down the hall that leads towards the server room. You let out a frustrated breath, pressing the heels of your hands into your eyes.

“Motherfucker,” you whisper under your breath.

The guilt gnawing at you starts to grow. It flowers in the empty spaces between your ribs—it sprouts tendrils that wrap around your lungs, thorns that dig into your thudding heart.

It had been your idea, after all.

Maybe you should go apologize.

You shake your head—you should just finish your paperwork and give the android some space, especially if he’s upset with you. You should just give up trying to understand the innerworkings of CyberLife’s most advanced prototype (he’s made it abundantly clear that you’ve failed at that particular endeavor so far). You should just mind your own goddamn business and go home.

But here you are. Standing up, pushing away from your desk to follow after him.

You shove your hands in your pockets as you round the corner. Try to act nonchalant as possible while you walk down the empty hallway and up to the server room door. It’s dark when you get there, which is—admittedly—a little odd, but you don’t think too hard about it, pushing inside before you lose your nerve.

It’s quiet. Really, really quiet. And real fucking cold, too.

You start walking down the center aisle, glancing up and down the rows of blinking servers as you pass them.

“Nines?” you call. “You in here?”

Something sends a shiver down your spine.

“I, uh… I know you said you’re okay,” you ramble, wandering over to a metal table hidden in the back corner of the room, playing idly with one of the spare cables coiled on top, “but I feel like you’re angry at me or something so—”

You’re pushed up against the wall, hard. Fast.

Panic seizes your throat. You fumble for the empty holster at your belt, then recognize the black and white jacket, the steely eyes glaring down into yours.

“Nines, what the fuck,” you hiss, planting your hands on his chest to push him off of you. “You scared the shit out of me.”

You shove as hard as you can, but he doesn’t move. Doesn’t even budge.

“…Nines?”

His shoulders are heaving. LED pulsing a bright, angry red. “You need to leave.”

His words are sharp, rough, and it sends a jolt of fear through you.

“Okay, sure, just—” your voice shakes. You start to notice the heat bleeding through the fabric of his uniform. “A-are you overheating or something?” you mutter. “You’re—”

You barely choke back a yelp as he grabs your jaw with one hand.

He stares down at you. Forces your head back until you can’t do anything but stare back at him, can’t do anything but bare your throat and melt in pools of molten silver. You blink—absolutely dumbstruck.

Your heart hammers inside your chest, so hard, so frantic, you’re afraid it might burst. Your face flushes—you know he can hear it, know he can feel it, the way your body responds to his—and suddenly, it’s way too fucking hot in here.

He leans down, keeps you against the wall with fingers that burn against your skin. You feel his breath ghosting across your skin, feel his other hand digging into your waist.

You don’t know what to do—don’t know what the fuck is happening.

He mouths at your collarbone and you jolt, fingers flexing in the soft fabric of his shirt. He dips his tongue into the hollow of your throat, traces its shape and hums as he catalogues the taste of your skin. The whimper falls from your mouth before you can stop it.

“Nines-”

And then he’s kissing you. Crushing his mouth to yours.

You struggle to keep up, pressed further into the wall by the intensity, the heat of him. He bites down on your lower lip, so fucking hard it breaks the skin and you taste blood—whimper and moan and let his tongue dip into your mouth and tangle with yours.

You wrap your arms around his neck, twist your fingers in his perfect hair and swallow down every perfect throaty groan he gives you. You arch your back. Press up into his torso, his hips, the hardness you feel against your stomach.

He grabs the backs of your thighs, lifts you up so you can wrap your legs around his waist, and kisses you harder, shoves his tongue so fucking far into your mouth you almost choke on it. He ruts against your clothed core, and the friction, the pressure against your clit—fuck—it makes your eyes roll back.

He carries you over to the metal table, drops you down onto its surface and manhandles you onto your stomach. Drags your pants—your underwear—down just far enough to expose your dripping sex.

“N-Nines!” you yelp, pushing up onto your elbows just to be shoved back down flat, his hand planted firmly between your shoulder blades. You hear him unbuckle his belt, hear him yank his zipper down. “Hold on—”

“Can’t—” he grunts, dragging the fat head of his cock up and down your folds. Your hear lurches, and your hips jerk backwards—you can’t help it.

He sinks into you fast. Filling you so suddenly, so full you feel it in your throat.

You cry out—the stretch, the burn—loud and long and broken off by the hand that clamps around your mouth. That pulls you back to meet his thrusts.

“Quiet,” he hisses. He grabs your hip with his other hand, shifts them so he can hit you deeper, so that he can hit that spongey spot inside you that has you weeping, begging him, muffled by his fingers, to give you more.

White-hot pleasure sears in your center, electric. It pulses harder, as his hips snap into yours, coils tighter with each drag of his head against your walls. You whimper and whine, thrust backwards because you want more—need it.

Your whole body tenses, then fucking shatters—clamping down around his cock.

He pounds into you, fucking relentless. Again and again and again. You splutter nonsense, tears rolling down your cheeks, seeping between his fingers. Begging for him to stop—to go harder. His hips stutter, and he groans, voice staticky and distorted and so fucking hot, pumping you full of his artificial release.

Before you can even begin to catch your breath, before you can really register that he’s let go of your mouth, he flips you over onto your back. Yanks your pants off entirely and grabs your legs, pressing them back flat against the table by the backs of your knees—wide fucking open.

“Fuck, N-Nines,” you whimper, hands splayed out against his abdomen. “Slow down, I-I can’t—”

He drives into you again before you can say anything else. Kisses you deep. Hard. Sucks your tongue into his mouth while he fucks you into the table. Swallows the needy moans, the pathetic, broken whimpers that fall from your mouth.

The stretch. The drag. It’s too much. The way he holds you down. The way he makes you take it. The way pleasure—exhilarating, excruciating—builds and builds and builds; the way it crashes into you and you see white.

He’s filling you again. Painting your insides. Fucking the cum that leaks out back into your abused hole, rolling his hips up into yours. You push on his chest, thrash and writhe underneath him.

He pulls out, pumping into his fist, and cums again—splattering your stomach in artificial release.

The room descends into a fragile stillness. You lay, staring at the ceiling, panting. 

“Are you alright, Detective?” he asks eventually, and you manage a weak nod.

“I…” he trails off, tucking himself back into his jeans and righting his jacket. “I apologize, Detective. The interface with the Traci… It… Something happened.”

“Mm?”

He clears his throat. “However, that seems to have… Have cleared the error from my systems.”

“Oh, okay,” you say, nodding again. “Just, uh… Just let me know if you ever need to defrag your hard drive or… or empty your junk mail or something. I’d be, ya know… willing to help out.”

He shoots you an unappreciative glare.

“You should get dressed,” he says.

“Yeah, yeah I will,” you say. “I just need a second. Can’t really feel my legs yet.”

He looks away, but you can feel the smug look on his face.

You can’t really find it in yourself to care though.

Thanks for reading!! Consider giving it a ❤️ and a 🔁 if you enjoyed.

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Master of Puppets | 3

Summary: You meet someone who caught your attention the first time, and he was all you desired.

But what happens when that desire is taken for granted?

Pairings: Chishiya x Fem!Reader

Genre: Slowburn, Angst

A/N: This chapter 3 of the MoP series! Chapter 3 is shorter than I expected so I apologize. Hope you guys still enjoy :)

****

Embarrassment was far more than you could describe what happened that night. Grabbing the pillow next to you, you let out a loud scream while kicking your legs. It wasn’t until today where you actually laid down in your bed and carefully thought about everything that happened in those moments with Chishiya. And the more you thought about it, the more you realized how right he actually was. Chishiya did have an affect on you, and it was making you go crazy.

You have absolutely no idea why or how it happened but he’s someone that you just didn’t want to get enough of. He’s on your mind consistently, whether you liked to admit it or not. Even when you would hang out with Kuina, sometimes you couldn’t help but ask about Chishiya to see if he was doing okay and just making sure that he was still alive. Kuina has asked you if you wanted to go with her to be with Chishiya and you turned her down. You just couldn’t face him. Not right now. Although Kuina was skeptical about it, she never pushed you on. She figured you would tell her once you feel comfortable and reminded you again that she will always be there for you. My guardian angel. 

But it’s hard, having to isolate yourself because you feared the truth. And what scared you about Chishiya is that he knows the truth. And it begs the question:

Does Chishiya know you better than yourself? 

The thought of it makes your mind and heart go around in circles like a roundabout. If he knew the truth it’s just best to be honest about it right? What was his stance on the matter? Does it bother him that you are going to be appear more often now that you are close with Kuina? You know you can’t hide from him forever and vice versa, so will he just continue to ignore you? Or will he take an initiative?

But why would he bother taking an initiative if he told you that he didn’t want to be friends with someone as pathetic as you are? Again you screamed in the pillow. Even if he doesn’t want to, you know that being close to him is something that you felt you need to do. 

Rather than just running away, you knew you just had to accept the truth. The whole truth and nothing but the truth. That truth being that you wanted Chishiya more than anything. 

Quickly jumping off the bed you put on your shoes and start heading out the door. You weren’t exactly sure where you could find him right now but you had a few ideas where he could be. You just hope that he hasn’t left for a game so soon.

-

Looking for this man was giving you an absolute headache because he was nowhere to be found. You checked the obvious places and people but found no sign of him. It was getting ridiculous how much you were running around the Beach trying to find him, and the weird looks people were giving you wasn’t helping either.  You figured you would just call it a night and head back to your room and try again the next day.

Walking along the corridors of your floor you spot him coming from the opposite direction. Your heart starts to accelerate.

Just stay calm.

Slowly walking up to him you can feel the anxiety coming straight at you like a hurricane. This is probably the worst idea ever but there is no turning back now. Now face to face with him, he pulls out the earphones that he had on and gives you a raised eyebrow. 

“Chishiya! Hi- sorry um..” giving yourself a deep breath you continued, “sorry I just wanted to let you know that you are absolutely right. You do have an affect on me and I can’t explain why, but all I know is that I really like you. I like you so much and I know that sounds crazy because you barely know me and I don’t really know much about you either but I just… I feel like I’ve always had these feelings for you since I first saw you and they won’t go away. I think it’s the best if you knew the truth.” You look at him straight in the eyes, your heart palpitating with your palms already sweating.

Breaking the eye contact you look down at your hands and start playing with them, as if they were the most interesting thing in the world. Why isn’t he saying anything? Taking another deep breath you look back at him, his eyes were still on you. The smirk grew wider before he speaks,

“The question is how long did it take you to know the truth?

“Oh? Well I guess I didn’t realize until… that night” you gulped. You watch as he slowly started to inch toward you, just like he did on the rooftop. Your legs were frozen in place, not moving an inch from where you stood. He was at your eye level, but this time he was slowly getting closer to you. Your faces were now inches away from each other, lips centimeters away. “Was it when I came close to you like this?”

You gasped and he chuckles, quickly backing off before continuing, “I think it’s cute, however you serve no purpose for me at the moment.”  Giving you one last smirk he starts walking away, leaving you once again in delirium. 

 ***

The thick black smoke circled around while you were laying on the cold concrete floor underneath as you sleep. The smoke becomes thicker and your throat and lungs were getting severely irritated. You start to cough aggressively, hoping to remove the impurities that were in your respiratory system. Getting up, you tried to breathe to get any clean air into your system. The feeling only made you feel worse. The black smoke forbid you to see your surroundings, but you knew you had to get out of here. Coughing and running you try to find any signs of an exit. The place was like a labyrinth; so many twists and turns and it was as if you made an entire circle. Your body was screaming in desperation to get out, and you looked for another route to make it out of this crazy labyrinth. 

Running south this time, a bit of the black smoke clears up and you see a figure standing several meters away from you. Getting closer you see the man with his signature white hoodie. He was surrounded by water – lots of water, like the entire Sea of Japan was behind him. And he was just standing there watching you. You try to run towards him, calling out his name. HIs figure stood there with no response. The black smoke that you thought you escaped from was chasing after you, and the fire began to spread further as you continued running. Looking back, you see the raging hells were geting larger. You forced your legs to quicken their pace, hoping to reach the man that oh so desperately had what you needed. 

Just a few feet away and as you jumped into the water, you quickly swam over. His body was now right in front of you, giving you that sly smirk. Admiring his features, your fingers couldn’t resist but to touch the delicate soft skin against his cheek. Did he always have a small mole underneath his left eye? He doesn’t move an inch, and your eyes move towards his lips. Your thumb gently rubs against the bottom of his lip before you lean in and touch his lips with yours. The fire that was once coming after you has completely engulfed inside your body. The kiss lasted for several seconds and you did not want to stop. When you let go and open your eyes, his beautiful presence was not there. Looking around you see that he has completely disappeared, and it was just you alone in the darkness with the cold water surrounding you. 

You called out his name repeatedly, even screaming his name at the top of your lungs but to no avail. Tears were coming out of your eyes as you sobbed. You dive in looking to see if he was in the deep waters with only the darkness staring back at you. It was no use searching for him. Wailing now, the sobs continued, and the tears blurring your vision forbid you from seeing the tidal waves completely consuming you. 

Competitive Part 1

Alec Lightwood x fem reader!

Summary: After Y/n’s parents died during a hunt the Lightwoods took her in. Izzy and Y/n were inseparable so it was no surprise they became Parabatai. Now Alec and Y/n that was a different story. They hated each other and constantly competed to be the best. One day Y/n takes it to far and there was no turning back.

Tw: Violence

Masterlist | Next Chapter

“ Alec! “ you screamed as you walked around the institute.

“ Show your face!. I know what you did!”.

“ And what would that be?.”, he smirked as he rounded the corner to the training room.

“ Where is my bow?. You were the last in the room when I set it down. I asked around and there aren’t much archers around here who would dare touch my bow.”.

“ Well, perhaps you misplaced it. You know how clumsy you are.” He smirked.

That son of a bitch knew what he was doing. Egging you on like that. Making you look like the crazy one. If it weren’t for Izzy you would have killed him by now. But being as you were bonded with her, you would not do anything to hurt her so you grit and bared her asshole brother.

Many years ago you and Izzy decided to forever be bonded by getting the parabati together. You grew up as practically sisters, so it was no surprise to anyone when you did it. Your parents were notorious shadow hunters who died in a hunt when you were 13. No one could believe it until they saw there bodys. Izzys family always considered you part of there family so they took you in. Jace was always nice and respectful to you. Alec.. well.. was Alec. He wasn’t always a jerk but when you started receiving praise for you abilities, he became competitive and cold. He always tried to 1 up you. Archery was always your strong suit just as it was his. There wasn’t any shot you could miss and any shot he could miss. So for a long time it’s been a game of who would be the first to miss. Izzy would throw these little completions to try to break this tie and move on from you and Alec constantly fighting. Today was supposed to be one of them. Which brings you to your current predicament.

“ How pathetic of you Alec. You would stoop so low and hide my bow to win?. Are you really that intimidated by me?.” You smiled.

Alec’s smirk faded and he grit his teeth and got so close to you that you felt his chest rising and falling with anger as he said, “ I am not intimidated by anyone, let alone you. You really think your something special, don’t you?. You Y/N are a nobody and when I beat you today, everyone will see that.”. Suddenly your heart began to race and with every breath you took you got angrier and angrier. Your body felt like it was on fire and your hand slowly crept around your back to your hidden dagger but as your hand reached the blade you felt a firm hand on your shoulder. You looked to the side and see jace. He began to usher you away and said, “ Y/N relax. Take a few breaths. He’s trying to get under your skin. You know he doesn’t mean what he says.”. As he spoke his words just got more mumbled as the anger started rising. Seeing you were inconsolable he motioned for another hunter to help restrain you away from Alec. But before they could lay a hand on you, you push them to the side and lunge at Alec. It was a battle between you, Alec and jace. It was no match though, being as skilled as you were, you were able to knock out jace and you were currently straddled on top of Alec with your dagger against his neck. With every second your hand felt heavier and you already drew blood.

“ Y/N STOP!. PUT IT DOWN!.” Izzy shouted. And just like that you snapped out of it. You dropped the blade and looked around. Everyone was looking at you in horror. You felt your eyes tearing up and closed them for a second to stop from crying. You looked down at Alec and he looked back at you in shock. The guilt became so much to bare so you looked him in the eyes and whispered, “ I’m sorry.”, before getting off him and running off. You heard your name but you ignored and ran even faster. You just needed to get away. This time, it went to far.

Frustration Leads To Confessions. (x.t)

Pairing: Xavier Thorpe x Best Friend!Reader

Summary: maybe all you needed was a little help to make xavier realize his feelings for you or when both of you are jealous and it leads to more

Warnings: jealous reader and xavier, fluff, two frustrated people who are absolute idiots for each other. UNEDITED

a/n: i present to you guys a full fic for our boy, xavier:) apparently, i like the word idiot a lot...

masterlist

Your best friend, Xavier had a weird newfound interest in the new girl, Wednesday Addams. It seemed like that was all he could talk about. Wednesday this, Wednesday that, a matter of fact you were really getting over it. Even during class or during lunch all he would do is look out for her, even if that meant ignoring you in the process.

You slipped away to your room for lunch after class not even bothering to walk with him to the quad. Whether you would admit it out loud or not you liked your best friend maybe a little more than you should. Though you couldn’t help it, now with his long hair that suited his face perfectly or the smirk he would put on when he was teasing. Maybe you were being hopeful when you thought he might out liked you back.

It sucks that the dance was so close too. You wanted him to ask you, but with Wednesday in the picture, you doubt he would. Which leaves you without a date for the dance. You had even talked to Ms. Thornhill about going off the theme a bit to go for more of a periwinkle dress instead of white which she was all in for.

Once you made it to your next class which was unfortunely botany class with Xavier, you made it a point to sit in a different seat than your usual spot next to him. The only other spot open was next to a boy that you remembered whose a werewolf named is Dylan. You made your way over to the spot next to him and set your stuff down while avoiding Xavier’s piercing stare at you.

The lesson was boring and basically filled with Bianca and Wednesday competing with each other. You had ten more minutes of the class before the bell would ring. Ms. Thornhill said since it was so close to the dance, she wouldn’t torture you guys with any more homework.

“Hey,” you heard from beside you. “Y/n, right?”

“Yeah, and yours is Dylan if my memory is correct,” you replied with a small laugh which caught Xavier’s attention.

“Something going on with you and your boyfriend? Who’s giving me quite the death stare this entire period?” he questioned as he noticed the other’s glare at him. “Who knows maybe I’ll be six feet under by the time this class ends,” he joked.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you muttered feeling your cheeks flush with heat at the thought.

“Does he know that?”

“Yes, and I don’t think he would care, all he’s been talking about is Addams over there beside him,” you claimed.

“So he wouldn’t mind if I did this?” he stuck out his arm to your seat pulling you closer to him. You yelped as you didn’t expect him to be able to pull you and the chair with just one arm. “Wait, nope, I definitely think he does mind actually.”

You could tell that your cheeks were bright red right now without having to look in a mirror. Not only were you blushing at the fact Dylan thought Xavier was your boyfriend, but also about how close you were to Dylan right now. You were staring at your hands but looked up, and saw Xavier who was gripping his pencil so tightly that his knuckles were white and with a clenched jaw.

“What are you trying to do?” you asked him as you turned your gaze from Xavier to him.

“Trying to be a good matchmaker.”

“There’s nothing to match,” you scoffed.

“Y/n, you got yourself all wrong there. That boy is so jealous right now, it’s hilarious,” he corrected you.

“Dylan, there’s-” the bell ringing cut you off.

“I’m going to whisper into your ear and all you have to do is giggle okay,” all you did was nod confused as Dylan helped you stand up from your chair and leaned in close to your face but moved in the last second to whisper in your ear. “I hope you get dicked down after this by him,”

You started to choke on the air uncontrollably at the disbelief of his words as you felt heat rush into your cheeks again.

“Dylan! You did not just say that!” you gasped.

“I did, and he coming over this way right now,” Dylan started to rush to get his stuff. “I’m going to go before he punches me, good luck!” he wished you as he rushed out the door.

“What was that?” Xavier questioned harshly as he came closer to you.

“What-” you couldn’t even finish your sentence before he started pulling you into the hall and dragged you all the way into his dorm room. “Xavier, slow down.”

“So you have a new boyfriend and you don’t even tell me about it,” he snapped at you as he shut his door behind him.

“What are you even talking about?” you asked him placing your stuff down on his chair by his desk. That’s when you noticed his sketchbook was open, and it was a drawing of you. Though you didn’t feel like this was quite the right time to mention it, as you turned your attention back to the seething boy.

“You ignore me before lunch and then show up our next class to not even sit in your seat and sat next to wolf boy out of nowhere,” Xavier deadpanned. “That entire class period was filled with him being all over you.” It was now your turn to get angry at the boy as you were shocked at his hypocrisy.

“You’re joking right now, right?” you asked in pure disbelief.

“No, I am not. He was literally all over you and you just stayed there giggling at everything he said,” he scoffed.

“You know what, Xavier, I don’t even know why you care when all you’ve been talking about is Wednesday Addams,” you snapped back at him. “It always about her with you lately, sorry for not wanting to listen to you for one class period.”

“Y/n, don’t be like that,” he softened.

“No. You can’t dragged me to your room and antagonized me about something you don’t even know the full story too.”

“Why would I need a full story when I watched with my own eyes?” he pointed out.

“Dylan wasn’t doing anything!” you exclaimed.

“Really, so he wasn't flirting with you the entire time?” he commented.

“No!”

“Y/n, you really are more oblivious than I realized.”

“Xavier, you’re being ridiculous right now,” you stated. “All he was doing was literally pointing out the fact that you were so obviously jealous.”

“How could I not be?” he remarked. “All I could hear was you laughing with him, and don’t even get me started on how close you two were.”

“That was the point, Xavier,” you said exasperated as you head over to his bed and laid down on it feeling so over this argument with him.

“What?” he questioned confused.

“Dylan, thought we were dating and when I told him we aren’t, he was basically like then watch this,” you said muffled into his pillow.

“You’re an idiot.”

“Me? You’re the idiot,” you countered.

“Be my idiot,” he blurted which caused you to lift your head from his pillow as you sat up on his bed.

“I’ve been yours this entire time, you idiot,” you laughed as he came closer to sit on the bed. “Maybe if you actually paid some attention to me you would’ve noticed sooner,” you admitted bitterly as you thought about him talking about Wednesday this past week.

“Wait what?”

“Xavier, you vex me to no end,” you told him as you leaned closer to his face. “Maybe that’s why I fell so hard for you.”

“You make me go mad,” Xavier closed the space between you two as he placed a hand on your cheek pulling you to meet his lips.

It was as if you could feel the pent up emotion Xavier was putting into the kiss.You smiled into the kiss wrapping your arms around his neck as his hands moved to your hips. You moved forward slightly to lean more into him and he let out a groan against your mouth. He stilled in the kiss, keeping your hips in place from moving further. You both pulled away to catch your breath.

“What does this mean for us?” you questioned softly looking into his eyes.

“I think this means you're mine officially,” he smirked.

“I think you have to ask a certain question though,” you joked.

“You’re really going to make me ask,” he laughed throwing his head back.

“Oh, absolutely.”

“Will you, Y/n, be my girlfriend and go to the Rave’N Dance with me,” he asked you raising his hand to tuck a piece of loose hair that fell onto your face.

“Of course, I will,” you smiled back. “You know if I knew all it took was being close to some guy for you to finally ask me out, I would’ve done it sooner. Maybe again, with all this pent up frustration,” you joked letting out a giggle.

“NO! No more guys. EVER!” he said pushing you down on the bed to give you another kiss. "I mean it."

do not disturb

pairing- jake 'hangman' seresin x female!reader (no use of y/n)

synopsis-

“It’s one hundred degrees in this room,” Hangman defends himself. “I can’t sleep in pants, I’ll die.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose, considering just sleeping in the hallway yourself and ending this torture. “Is your penchant for drama genetic? Are your sisters like this too?”

warnings- 18+ only minors DNI, what's a plot never met her, explicit protected piv sex, lil corruption/innocence kink, choking (pls look up the correct way before doing it), hangman's dirty mouth, size kink (if jake doesn't have a big dick I'm staging a revolt), brat tamer hangman if you squint, inexperienced ish reader (tried but I'm a hoe so idk if I managed it), no kink negotiation here (talk to your partners first irl), safewords not explicitly stated but I promise this is consensual af, excessive pet names, exasperated sleepy friends to lovers

length- 4k this was supposed to be like 1k I don't know blame hangman

an- this is just smut w lil fluff sprinkles. i'm a hangman girl (read: I'm obsessed with glen powell) so I felt some type of way about being mean to him in tailspin & that's why this now exists. also idfk what this even is sorry! hope it's not terrible ok ily bye

GIF by when-in-doubt-eat-pizza

Technically, it’s the middle of the night. 

That’s why you’re burying homicidal urges when you hear knocking on your hotel room door. 

Urges that increase tenfold when you open it to see Jake Seresin, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly in an old Navy shirt that looks way too soft for your sleep addled brain to deal with right now. 

“Hangman,” you greet drily. “Why the fuck.”

Rubbing sleep from your eyes, you’re not unhappy to see him, per se, but it’s well past acceptable social hours. He’ll have to forgive your less than enthusiastic welcome. Part of you thinks you might still be sleeping.

He at least has the decency to look sheepish for waking you up. Well, about as sheepish as Hangman is capable of looking. “Coyote said he was bringing someone back to our room. Can I crash with you tonight? Everyone else is either hooking up or dead asleep.”

Fucking weddings. 

You narrow your eyes. “What if I have someone here?”

He smirks and you kind of want to slap him. 

A testament to your willpower, you sigh instead, briefly wondering if it’s really that bad to force him to sleep in the hallway, before opening the door and stepping to the side. 

“Thanks, sweetheart,” he drawls, letting you feel the heat of his body as he passes by you, just a touch too close for comfort.

“Cool pjs.” He smirks again, raking his eyes up and down your colorful matching shorts and shirt set. 

“Bite me.”

Hangman smiles good-naturedly causing you to idly wonder if anything has ever bothered him in his entire life. 

“You’re real cute when you’re tired,” he says instead of being offended and now you’re debating if you actually should slap him, or maybe yourself for the way his compliment brings heat to your cheeks. 

“Where’s Phoenix? Thought you were sharing a room with her this weekend.”

Your stomach drops as you consider that Phoenix might be why he came to crash in your room, and you try not to make a face at its betrayal. 

“She’s probably in your room with Coyote,” you deadpan to cover up your discomfort, and then relish in the way his mouth drops open in surprise. “Christ, aren’t you supposed to be smart, Hangman? I’m kidding, she met someone at the reception.”

You know you’re being a little more abrasive with him than normal, but you can’t quite help the jabs that come out when you’re feeling uneasy. 

And Hangman does nothing, if not make you very, very uneasy. Especially like this, with his blonde hair soft and flopping all over his forehead, that old t-shirt clearly having been shrunk in the wash over the years straining across his chest, riding up a little high above his sweatpants. 

The gears are clearly turning in his head, no doubt forming something witty to gain back the slight upper hand you’ve gained in this verbal sparring. 

You should be preparing yourself for whatever he’s about to say that’s sure to make you lose your footing. But he looks like a goddamn sleepwear model like this, mellow and soft and cuddly, eyes drooping a little from tiredness and the whiskey he was sipping on all night, clothes begging to have someone’s hands fisted in them and…okay. Stopping that train of thought right the fuck now.

Nothing but danger lies down that road with a girl like you and a guy like Hangman.

You’re contemplating if you could get away with taking a cold shower when he finally looks around your room, its distinct lack of two beds apparently killing whatever comeback he had on the tip of his tongue. 

“I can sleep on the floor.” He’s rubbing the back of his neck again and his uncharacteristic awkwardness is starting to make your skin itch. 

Message received, Hangman. We both know I’m not your type.

You’ve seen the girls he usually goes home with. Even if every single one of them wasn’t annoyingly beautiful, you already know where you stand with him. For all intents and purposes, you’re just another one of the guys. Sure, you don’t take a different conquest home every other night like the rest of them, but you banter and compete with them like buddies. 

And since you and Hangman are just buddies, you roll your eyes for appearances. “Just get in the bed, Seresin. It’s huge, I’m not going to make you sleep on the floor.”

He shrugs, like he’s giving himself credit for his half-assed offer and goes to pull his sweatpants off. You give him a withering look of disbelief, studiously avoiding looking at the way his boxers stretch over his muscular thighs. 

“It’s one hundred degrees in this room,” Hangman defends himself. “I can’t sleep in pants, I’ll die.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose, considering just sleeping in the hallway yourself and ending this torture. “Is your penchant for drama genetic? Are your sisters like this too?”

He just gives you a dazzling smile in response, and you spin away from him before everything inside you melts. 

Turning the thermostat down, you shoot an evident you’re welcome stare in his direction, but his sweatpants remain in their place on the floor. He’s laid out on the bed, all tanned skin and muscle, arms crossed behind his head in a way that’s surely meant to draw your attention straight to his biceps. 

Deep breath, you tell yourself. You can do this, just lay down on the other side and don’t be weird. 

You get in and pull the covers tight, hoping the shiver that runs through you as the air conditioning kicks on isn’t noticeable. 

“And I’m dramatic,” Jake huffs, getting under the blanket and rolling closer to you. You tense, merely out of reflex and a frown creases his eyebrows almost imperceptibly before he gets comfortable on his side, pulls you into his arms. “Relax, sugar. Just trying to keep you warm, since you’re always so cold. Been told I’m like a furnace.”

By who?  You want to snap at him, but instead you swallow the words and lean into his chest. He really is warm. 

“Would never do anything you don’t want me to,” he mumbles, but there’s a trace of a chuckle in his voice that feels like he’s making fun of you.

Mocking aside, that's definitely true.

You'd never expect him to do any of the things you want him to, either. There's a reason your apprehension stems from you crossing some sort of invisible line with him in your bed and not vice versa.

"I know," you whisper, not trusting yourself to say much else without divulging all the thoughts about him you've buried deep under your comforter at home.

“How come you didn’t ask anyone else to come up and keep you warm?” Jake teases, after a few moments of silence where you were busy focusing on the whirr of the air conditioner and trying to ignore your pounding heart. 

You squint, still kind of wondering if he can feel your pulse racing. 

“The curly haired guy, from the wedding,” he supplies helpfully to answer your confused expression.

Oh. You’re surprised Jake noticed you talking to him at all. “It’s not like I wanted to sleep with him. We were just chatting.” 

“Well, he definitely wanted to.” You’d love to imagine there’s a hint of bitterness in his tone, but you know that’s just wishful thinking.

“That’s not really my thing,” you say quietly, as if he doesn’t already know. He knew enough to know you wouldn’t have anyone up here with you, after all.

It’s so much easier, laying here in the dark, not having to meet his beautiful green eyes, to be honest. All your jabs having melted into smooth, silky edges at the warmth of his body.

There’s a playful lilt to Jake’s voice again. “Sex?”

You smack him lightly on the chest. “One-night stands. I can never get comfortable enough with a stranger to have a good time, things are just better for me when it’s more involved.”

When there’s feelings, you don’t say, because you’re pretty sure he can put two and two together without you having to spell it out.

You still kind of wish you hadn’t said anything, are kicking yourself for admitting that out loud when he cuts through the anxiety of your internal monologue.

“Nothing wrong with knowing what you want, darlin’.”

“It sucks sometimes,” you admit. “It can be a little lonely.”

“Better than being with the wrong person if it’s just going to make you feel bad.”

Part of you wants to roll your eyes and scoff at him, as if Casanova Jake Seresin has any idea what that feels like, but he’s rubbing small, comforting circles in between your shoulder blades and it’s short-circuiting your brain. You find yourself running your fingers up his spine instead, playing with the soft threads of his t-shirt like you’ve wanted to since the moment you saw him at your door tonight.

“Feels nice,” he comments, pulling you in closer.

Spurred on by his praise you keep going, wandering down his back to where his shirt rides up. You look down and see that little strip of blonde hair that disappears into the waistband of his boxers, slung low enough that you can see that stupid Adonis belt on his abs. Your hand moves to the front of him of its own accord, tracing the ridges there, brushing dangerously close to the strip of elastic at the top.

Jake’s arm pops up so he can support his head with his hand, looking down at you imploringly. “What’re you playing at, sugar?”

You take your hand back like it’s been burned, cheeks suddenly hot as you realize you’d gotten carried away. “I’m sorry, I just—I didn’t think about what I was doing. Got distracted.”

He’s definitely smirking, you can practically feel it in the air above you, but you’re sure as hell not going to look up and see that self-important grin for yourself.

He pulls your fingers back to his stomach, and you can’t help but immediately brush them over his happy trail. The dusting of blonde hair surprises you a little, having expected Hangman to be too vain to leave any hair around that might distract from his physique.

You’re silently wondering if he has any hair on his chest when he catches a finger under your chin, forcing you to look up at him. You see his green eyes darkened, studying your face for something. You’re not entirely sure what.

Apparently finding what they’re looking for his expression softens, the hand supporting his head going to brush hair away from your face and you break eye contact, feeling small under his undivided attention. His fingers hover for a second, like he wants to do something more, but go to rest on your pillow instead.

“Thought that I had you pegged wrong all along for a second there, using lines to get in my pants. That’s not really my thing,” he mimics, smile twitching at the edges of his lips.

“Oh, I’m—Jake, I’m not—” you stutter, certain you must be bright red now. Your fingers are playing with the hem of his t-shirt, nervous and fidgety energy working to get released.

I’m not like this, you want to say. I’m not like you.

He exhales audibly, looking down at you, at the cherry blooming on your cheeks, at where your dainty fingers pluck at his shirt. His hand clenches once in the pillow above your head, knuckles practically white, before releasing.

“I know, sweets, was only joking. Fuck, I get that you’re a good girl,” he breathes, strained like he’s barely holding it together. “S’why I always want to ruin you.”

What.

Everything inside your mind shuts off.

All you can hear is the humming of the air conditioner, the slow intake of air into his lungs. Something inside you clenches.

You’re fairly certain a sound that closely resembles a whimper breaks from your throat, but you can’t know for sure, since all thoughts have been erased from your brain.

You hear him suck in a sharp breath, breathing in and out evenly for a couple seconds, regaining control, before he speaks again. “Sorry, sweetheart. Shouldn’t have said that. I won’t, told you I’d never do anything you don’t want.”

You already know that. That’s not the problem. The problem is how many nights you’ve already spent wishing his fingers were on you instead of your own. How many nights you've spent biting back his name, too embarrassed to let your lips form the syllables of someone who you were certain didn’t want you.

Now, though, those walls of certainty seem to be crumbling at every edge. 

“What if I want you to?” You ask quietly, barely above a whisper. It almost gets stuck in your throat, but you force your lips to form those words and let them leave your lungs.

Jake’s entire body goes tense.

But then he rolls over, putting you on your back and caging you in with his arms.

“You mean that?” He’s looking at you intensely, so intensely you might be frightened if you weren’t distracted by the weight of him on top of you, by every single scorching point of contact between you. 

All you can manage is a nod, eyes starting to glaze over as he fills every inch of your vision.

He chuckles. “Guess that’s a yes.”

Jake ducks his head to kiss you, it’s sweet, sweeter than you ever would’ve expected from him. Sweeter than you thought it would be when you were hiding beneath the sheets in your bed, with your fingers on your clit, choking back his name. 

But then he slides his tongue past your lips, deepening the kiss as he tangles a hand in your hair, tugging hard enough to make you moan straight into his mouth. His lips move down to ghost over your neck, across your jaw. 

And suddenly his words are hot in your ear. “What do you want, sweetheart? Want me to ruin you? Tell you about all the times I’ve thought about taking you apart?”

Your thighs clench together, heat blooming in your stomach and you notice, all at once, how wet you really are, slick pooling between your thighs under the wispy material of your sleep shorts. 

You open your mouth to say yes, desperately trying to find your voice, to find your familiar jabs so you can go toe to toe with him like normal, but all that comes out is a squeak. 

His hand stops at your neck, just briefly, thumb rubbing on your pulse point. And it turns every last bit of you in you to sweet, sticky, melting caramel. Your breath hitches, you suck your bottom lip between your teeth, holding back a whimper.

He’s not even doing anything, not really, but your mind immediately latches onto what he could be.

Jake’s eyes go wide for just a second before something wicked glints in the thin ring of green left.

“Thought you were so fucking innocent,” he grunts, running his thumb from your pulse point to your jaw and back again. You bring your hands to his, pulling him closer, silently asking him to press down.

You open your mouth to respond, but you don’t know how to explain. You may not do this kind of thing a lot, but you know what you like. Your imagination has certainly run wild enough times.

But any words that might’ve been readying themselves to leave your lips wither into nothing the moment he squeezes your neck.

“Jake,” you gasp, words breathy underneath the fingers around your throat. “Jake, I…”

“Hmm, what’s that, sweetheart?” His hand relents a little so you can answer, but you immediately wish he’d tighten his hold again.

“Yes, Jake,” you whine. “I want you to ruin me.”

And you don’t know what’s come over you, if you were even an ounce more present in your own body you’d probably be embarrassed.

But Jake’s head drops next to his hand at the crook of your neck, and he makes a strangled noise, the moan reverberating through your skin. 

“Jesus,” he mutters against you. “Trying to kill me, sugar?”

You don’t have an answer for that because you’re not trying to do anything, you just want more.

Your fingers are still grasping his hand, the one still around your neck, tightly, like you’re scared he’ll pull it away, leave you to drift without his grip to ground you, to remind you this moment is real. It’s actually happening. 

He lifts his head up to latch his mouth onto yours again and it’s heavier, so much more desperate than before. You whine into him as he slides his hands down your body, pushing up your shirt and you want to laugh at the absurdity of it, that you’re more turned on than you’ve ever been in your entire life and you’re both still fully clothed. 

He peels your shirt up and over your head, letting out another obscene groan at the sight of your bare chest. 

“Fucking perfect,” he murmurs. 

You fist your hands in his shirt in answer, tugging upwards, figuring fair is fair. You’re trying hard not to blush, not to show how his approval makes you light and fuzzy. He grins and sits back on his knees, pulling his shirt up and over his head, ruffling his floppy hair in the process. 

Lips parting unconsciously, your tongue flicks out to wet them. You knew he was built, but it’s overwhelming, really, to have all that tan skin on display just inches from your face. You get to run your hands up the length of his entire chest now though, leaning up so your fingers can dance through the tuft of blonde hair near the top.

Jake pushes you down on your back, firm, into the pillows. Smiling deviously when you pout and immediately clench your fingers in the sheets beside you, when your thighs press together, seeking some sort of relief to the ache between them. The seam of your shorts presses just right against your center, and you let your head fall back with a soft moan. 

Something akin to dangerous flashes in Jake’s eyes, as he hooks his fingers in your shorts, pulling down in one swift motion and tossing them off the bed before you can gain any more pleasure from the thin material. He pushes your legs apart and groans at the sight of you, glistening wet for him. “God, sweetheart, look at you.”

Just when you think you might die if he doesn’t put his hands on you, if he doesn’t touch you, if he just keeps looking at you like that, like he wants to devour you; he swipes a finger up your slit, tip pressing lightly, teasingly against your bundle of nerves. It’s too much, but not enough all at the same time. He slides a finger in, curling it exactly right on the first try and you can’t help but keen, throwing your head back into the pillows.  

He sucks in a sharp breath at your reaction, eyelids going heavy as he presses rough figure eights on your clit. “Want to get my mouth on you, get my tongue inside that gorgeous pussy, but I can’t wait, darlin’, been thinking about this for too long.” 

Warmth blooms in your chest at the realization he might’ve imagined this even half as much as you have. You’re sure you’re smiling like an idiot. 

Reaching down to the pocket of his sweatpants, he pulls a condom out of his wallet, and you want to tease him, presumptuous much? But any semblance of thought goes out the window when he pulls his boxers down, hard cock slapping against his stomach. Your mouth is suddenly, immediately sandpaper dry. 

Fuck.

Of course he’s huge. No one with an ego as colossal as his doesn’t have a reason, or several to back it up.

You don’t even hear yourself saying it out loud, don’t even realize the curses forming on your tongue, until he grins, eyebrow raised, chest puffed out in pride. “Think you can handle me, sweetheart?”

It takes you a few moments to answer, to figure out that you should answer, since you’re transfixed on him, on the strong fingers rolling the condom onto his length. If you had any sense of self-preservation at all you might be genuinely worried about his question, about not being able to walk tomorrow. 

Hopefully you don’t sound as winded as you feel when you tell him to shut the fuck up. 

Before you can bother with any stupid survival instincts, you’re pulling him down on top of you, wrapping your legs around his waist, savoring the grunt it draws from him as his tip reaches your folds.

“Love it when you’re mouthy, darlin’, nice little challenge for me,” he promises, before pushing himself inside of you. 

He goes slow, tortuously slow, and you screw your eyes shut tight as your walls flutter trying to adjust to him. You don’t notice you’re on the verge of a sob until he brushes your hair back from your sweaty forehead. “Just a little more, sweetheart, you can take it.”

The stretch of him seems to go on forever, just on this side of agonizing, but way too good for you to care about the pain, too good to be real and you can barely focus on anything else. Can barely hear Jake’s molten honey voice repeating a slew of continuous praises in your ear, can barely register the weight of his body covering every inch of you. 

Any moment now you’ll wake up in your bed at home, covered in sweat, grinding into your bed, achingly alone. You’re almost certain of it.  

But then you feel his lips on yours again, hand holding your cheek, gentle, affectionate as he bottoms out. When he finally moves, the heavy, slick pull of him in and out of you reminds you that you’re here. 

You don’t even recognize yourself, mewling, long string of unintelligible noises tumbling from your lips. 

Jake practically preens. “Where’d my feisty little brat go? That all it takes to shut you up, sugar?”

You can only hope those were rhetorical questions because he’s hiking your legs over his shoulders, picking up the pace, new angle hitting that spot deep inside you again and again, and you can’t form a single thought, let alone words. 

Jake’s fingers find your center again and press against your clit in heavy, decisive circles, winding that coil in you tighter and tighter. 

“So close,” you whimper, fingers tearing at the bedsheets.

He smirks. 

“Did I say you could come, sweetheart?”

Your jaw drops in surprise, eyes rolling back and ears ringing, mind engulfed in the heat burning in your belly. 

He’s still grinning smugly as one of those large hands comes back to your neck. 

You whine, high-pitched and breathless, eyes fluttering closed, gripping the hand around your neck as he applies pressure, desperate for something to hold onto, and you think you’re trying to form words, some of them may even be making it out of your mouth, something along the lines of please please please, let me come, Jake, I can’t, JakeJakeJakeJake…

“So pretty all fucked out like this, stretched around my cock.” His gaze is fixed on where he’s plunging in and out of you, tone almost reverent. “It’s okay, sweetheart, come for me, wanna feel you, want…”

You don’t hear the rest because you’re focused on where his fingers dig into the sides of your neck, tipping over the edge, string of lights inside of you tangled and blowing a fuse. Everything bursts all at once and you’re clutching Jake’s arms so hard you’re positive you’re leaving marks, but it doesn’t matter, you don’t care because you’re in a free fall, toes curling in bliss. 

When you come to, you’re just barely aware of his pace growing erratic, hand on your throat loosening as it goes to brush your sweaty hair back from your forehead. His thrusts are getting shallower, mouth spewing a litany of jumbled praises so tight, so wet, so perfect baby, when suddenly he’s arching over you, hands tight on your hips as he empties into the condom. 

You’re not sure you’re still functioning. You’re not sure you’ll ever move again. You’re pretty sure you’ll ever have a coherent thought again.

Distantly you can hear his heavy breathing, feel his weight on top of you but you don’t fully register it. 

“Sweetheart?” He asks when you’ve been silent for minutes, or maybe hours, who knows. 

You look up at him, blinking slowly, eyelids made of lead, vision unfocused.

Jake grins, and it's almost boyish. It's annoyingly cute. “That good?” 

That cuts through the haze enough that you kind of want to slap him, for the arrogance littering those three little words. Or yourself, for helping his ego grow any bigger. 

As it stands, you’re too dazed to actually do either. You nod, silently burrowing your face into his neck. He chuckles again, and you decide maybe you don’t hate that teasing sound that much, maybe you’ll spend your days trying to elicit it from him as often as possible. You’re still thinking about it when he peels himself off you to clean you both up. 

When he settles back down, he pulls you in tight, curls around you in a way that should be uncomfortable, like he’d crawl inside your skin if he could. 

Jake is still glued to you when you wake up in the morning, and your heart clenches too affectionately to be irritated by the fact that you can’t really move. Or breathe. 

But you take one look at the smirk on his face, the mischievous glimmer that seems to linger even in his sleep and the butterflies in your stomach turn to stone.

You don’t think he’s that much of an asshole, you’re pretty sure the bravado is all a front. That he wouldn’t do something like this, knowing how you operate, without any intention of moving forward, but the anxiety still thrums incessantly beneath your ribcage.

You’re lost inside your own head, fighting the panic rising in your chest when he yawns, rubbing his eyes before tucking himself back into your side, impossibly closer.  

“Guess that fifty bucks I gave Phoenix to find somewhere else to stay was a steal,” he mumbles, fingers dancing across your bare skin. 

It’s his turn to pat himself on the back as your mouth drops open in shock. 

Jake grins, eyes sparkling as he presses a kiss into your hair. “Good luck getting rid of me now.”

Debt - Peter Hayes x Reader

https://archiveofourown.org/works/40814673

Description: You saved Peter Hayes life, now he won’t leave you alone. The first in a series.

insane thoughts hours but i really can't stop thinking about being in the middle of a lewis + fernando sandwich... what do you think

it's insanely competitive - the moment they get you back to a hotel room, though you're not sure whose of theirs it is, you get the sense this might be more about a silent set of mind games between the two of them, and less about you.

the position keeps changing and it's hard to keep up with who's where, with whose hands are doing what to you. you don't really understand what the goal of this is, until lewis takes you apart on his tongue and fingers, sucking on your clit as you orgasm with his name moaned around fernando's cock.

it's like a switch has been flicked, then. fernando manhandling you so you're on his lap, your back to lewis (and fernando grins at his glare), sliding three, even four fingers into you and setting a relentless pace until you're biting down a scream into the thick muscle of his neck and squirting all over his hand.

you don't get to recover before lewis is pulling you back towards him, positioning you on your hands and knees before burying himself to the hilt in your oversensitive cunt, telling you to keep looking at fernando, baby as you gasp for breath with how fucking deep he is inside you. that's what this game is -- one upping each other with your body, showing off who is better.

(and, of course, if fernando makes you squirt, lewis needs to match it, beat it.)

fernando pulls you under him and hoists your legs to his shoulders after lewis makes you orgasm again, soaking the sheets one more, sobbing his name and digging your nails into his biceps. nando is equally merciless, slowly rolling his hips deep, your thighs pressed up to your chest, before setting a brutal pace.

when you cum again, you're limp on the bed, moaned names collapsing into incoherent moans and whines. when lewis slides his fingers into your cum-slicked pussy once again, you faintly register how deliciously, painfully long this night is going to be.

❝here i blur into you❞ | qimir x fem!reader

pairing: qimir x fem!reader

summary: you've been stranded on an unknown island with your nemesis for weeks now, the air getting filled with unpalatable tension as you try to find a way to get away from him. one afternoon, the tension breaks as he offers his knowledge to help you train.

warnings: english is not my native language, reader also has a twin and has a similar situation as osha, reader is a bit paranoid, lot of foreplay from qimir, teasing, fingering, cunnilungus, vulgar terms,

now playing, acquainted by the weeknd

He smelled like sandalwood, filling the air every time he passed you by or handed you a plate of food. For the first few days, you ignored it, letting it brush against your nose, your thoughts concentrating on how to get out of the island or how to kill him without breaking the code. But after nights and nights of sleeping in the same cave, sharing his space, and smelling him in every corner, it started to drive you crazy.

You lost your nerves last morning during your hand-picked breakfast when he strolled into the cave after his morning swim, water still dripping from his hair, the smell punching you in the nose, leaving you dizzy and breathless. You didn't know where you wanted to go, but as you picked up your things and bottle of water, it wasn't your main concern.

The smell itself didn't bother you. He bothered you. You knew exactly what game he was playing. With your sister, he played the role of a big brother, older protecter that she always wanted and wished for. With you, his mask dropped, revealing a charming seductive character. Every time he handed you something, he towered over you, gazing into your eyes so intensely it made your knees shake. Or when he walked towards you, he took his time, his eyes going up and down your figure until they fixated on you, staring at you until he came so close you could feel his breath brushing over your face. The slightest touches of his hands, the knuckle strokes, the skin contact when he healed your wounds.

He was trying to seduce you, knowing your weaknesses, just so you'd turn your back on the jedi and stay with him. As a padawan, desire was one of the forbidden emotions, alongside hate, anger, and fear. You never felt the touch of another, not one you desired.

His act had its way with you. You didn't deny it, but it was just a role for him. A mask he put on whenever you were close. You wanted to know the real him and maybe even try to help him. Instead, you were met with lustful eyes and breathtaking smell of his. A few days ago, you returned his gaze when he spoke to you, to try to read his thoughts and emotions. You only saw the colour red.

After you stormed out of the cave, leaving Qimir wondering, you kept walking around for about thirty minutes before you found yourself surrounded by smaller rocks, standing ankles deep in a hot sand. It wasn't that far away from the cave but far enough to get away from him and his sandalwood smell.

You dropped your bottle and some spare clothes on one of the flat rocks, letting yourself fall on your ass, letting out an anxious breath. You had no idea what you were going to do, how to act, or how to survive the upcoming days. You were certain Sol was going to find you and save you. You started to think about Yord and Jecki. You weren't that close to Yord, even in your padawan days. Jecki, you knew from afar, but she always had a soft smile on her lips. Your heart ached for them, feeling guilty even if there was nothing you could do.

You sat there for hours, staring at your dirty shoes. You were frozen. You needed to train. You were sure there was going to be time when you would have to protect yourself against Qimir and his brute strength. He killed Yord with his bare hands. As long as you would attack his hands first, you'd be safe.

You found a branch, pictured it as a lightsaber, and started repeating over and over fighting methods you were taught by your master. You held up till the sunset, and when the sun rose again, you picked up the branch and started again.

You didn't bother with breaks. You kept going till your knees gave up, and your arms fell by your side. Your chest rose up and down fast as you sat down, the branch falling metres away from you. You rested your head against the closest rock, daring to close your eyes. You were away for almost a day, with no food, just water to keep you company. You slowly started to regret leaving so impulsively, but you had no idea what you would do if you'd stay another minute around the intoxicating smell of his.

You had to fall asleep, your body reacting to the unknown sound earlier than you. Trying to compose yourself as you rubbed your cheek, painful and red, from resting against the hard rock. You picked yourself up, turning around to find where the sound came from. It didn't take you long, for Qimir revealed himself, appearing just a few metres away from you, a bag around his shoulder. He took you in, scanning your body like he was searching for any weapons or injuries. He found nothing, only a thin branch right behind your feet.

"You could at least take some food." he broke the brooding silence and your mutual staring contest. His voice was soft, small tug on the corned of his lips. He wore his usual beige shirt, transparent to his muscles. You shook your head, trying to focus on something else than his forearms as he put down his bag to take out the stuff he brought you.

"I'm not hungry," you lied, holding steadily your position, scanning his every move. He took out all the food to put them on the rocks in front of you, gently, making sure not to drop anything. He didn't forget to bring you fresh water, new clothes and a lightsaber.

Lightsaber.

You took a quick step back at the sight of the lightsaber, your ankle meeting with a rock. He brought a lightsaber. He was going to kill you now. You were sure of it.

"It's for you," he read your mind, making himself a place to sit next to the food, lightsaber at the opposite end of the food row. He tilted his head, softly smiling at you. "The tide is going to end by tomorrow," he said, his eyes set low, eyebags underneath. "you could disappear."

"What do you want?" you asked, attitude and hidden fear in your voice. Why was he helping you. Why did he inform you about the tide and possible escape. Was he planning something?

"For you to eat," he smiled, his teeth showing up for a second. "I have no desire to hurt you or let you die of starvation." His hands rested on his lap, his eyes soft and gentle, morning sun reflecting in them. He was beautiful in this light. But you shook that though away.

"What's with the lightsaber," you pointed with your head to the weapon, not daring to move, feeling his eyes burn into your skin.

"I made it for you," he replied quietly, looking over at the saber. You flinched when he slowly stood up, walking towards it to pick it up, holding it so the handle could be in your direction. He was close, too close to your liking, a small circle of rocks surrounding you two. "Figured you'd want one." he purred, taking slow steps towards you, not breaking his gaze at you. Like he was waiting for you to run, taking in every detail of you.

He stopped at arm length, lifting the lightsaber to you. You didn't move to take it and just stared at it. It was small compared to his hand, plainly black.

"How long is it since you've held one?" he asked, almost in whisper, looking down at you with curiousity. You didn't answer, forcing to look away from the saber, mirroring his intense gaze. You tried to read him again but failed. You were too tired to even see one small thought. He took a step closer, instinctively you wanted to take a step back, but the rock behind you made you stumble, Qimir's arm catching you sharply, pulling you back up.

He was so close now that the saber handle was touching your ribs, his breath tickling your face again, the sandalwood, again, penetrating the air. You tried to move away, pushing against him, but he didn't move an inch. He looked like a marble statue against the light.

"Take it," he growled, shaking with the saber a little. When you still didn't move, he took your hand and placed it on the weapon, his grip strong and tense. "Turn it on," he moved even closer, the head of the lightsaber pushing against his abdomen.

Turn it on.

You repeated his words.

Turn it on and get it over with.

Only you couldn't. You tried to force your hand to move, but like someone froze it, it was paralyzed.

"I'm not like you." You managed to let out, breaking your neck to look up at him. "I don't attack the unarmed."

"When did I attack the defenceless?" he asked, still holding your arm firmly, keeping you standing in one place. His hair fell like a black curtain around his eyes that stared into yours, awaiting an answer.

"Jecki," your voice broke at the memory of her. She had no reason to be there. She should have been safe at the temple.

You heard him take a deep breath, his fingers slightly amplifying the pressure around your wrist. "She attacked first,"

"She was a child." You raised your voice, trying to move away from him but as much as you wanted he didn't let you.

"Your Master brought her there. He knew the risk." He replied, his voice soft and calm with no hints of remorse.

"What do you want?" You cried out, furrowing your eyebrows. You wanted to scream at him, punch him, fight him, erase the stupid smell he had that drove you crazy and confused your thoughts.

"For you to eat," he repeated, stupid smile dancing on his lips. For a second, you wondered why he wore a mask to hide his beautiful face, but you quickly erased it. With the final push, he let go of your arm and stared at you as you made your way towards the food. You devoured embarrassingly quickly, forgetting about the claim you weren't hungry. All the time he stood there, watching you carefully.

When you finished eating, you took advantage of the bird that took Qimir's attention for a moment to hide the fork and knife behind your belt. It was stupid, but it counted as something. You could sharpen it using the rocks and use it when he'd attack you in your sleep.

"Why won't you kill me?" You asked after you finished your plate, reaching for the water bottle. You felt his stare. Everywhere. At that point you didn't know if he was still playing the role of a whore or he just had a staring problem. Both options made you nervous.

"As I said, I have no desire to." He smiled, kneeling down to squat. He slowly started rolling up his sleeves, the scars on his arms now more visible than ever. His long, thick fingers were wrapped around the lightsaber, his other hand now hanging in the air.

It was useless talking to him. It was obvious before, ridiculous now. You nodded, accepting you won't get any honest answer out of him.

"Thanks for the food, you better get going now." You slowly stood up, your stomach full and warm. "Time for your daily swim." you added, hoping he'd leave you alone till tomorrow when you could swim to the other side and leave this abandoned island.

You didn't hear him letting out a chuckle, his dimples showing. "I can take one here," he pointed at the calm water in front of you, guarded by gigantic rocks.

Great.

"Do whatever you want," you murmured, trying to convince yourself you're okay with his presence. Naked presence. You saw him the first few days, where you followed him every morning, not trusting anything he said. He invited you to join him every time, and every time you didn't say anything, just stood on guard, scanning and taking in every movement he made.

He was well built, with big arms, strong back, and powerful legs. Was he stripping in front of you as a part of his act, or was he just that unbothered by your presence. You hoped it was neither. You rather got tricked than ignored.

"Okay," you heard him murmur, walking towards you for his clothes. You flinched, taking a big step away from him, finding the lightsaber lying in the sand. As he slowly made his way to the water and started to undress, you took the lightsaber in your hands, feeling it, remembering the last time you held it.

You started your routine again, this time with your lightsaber, the branch left lying in the sand. You were well aware he was watching you, motivating you to show off and not to embarrass yourself.

Minutes ran by before you heard a splash, Qimir walking out of the water. You didn't even think to turn around, but your body decided for you. Your head tilted his direction, your eyes going up and down his figure. It wasn't the first time you saw it but this time you saw it from a clear view.

Suddenly, you had a hard time swallowing the saliva forming in your mouth, your heart aggressively punching your ribs.

Focus.

You quickly turned your head back, hoping to remember what you were doing before you scanned his form. You wondered if it would hurt, or would it be pleasurable.

You felt shame thinking about these things, but you never received an answer. The Jedi around you never answered, and those outside you didn't trust.

The unknown heat overtook you again, you had to close your eyes to regain your focus. Instead, The Force directed you back to him. His grin fixated his lips as he put on his clothes, not bothering to dry himself. Water droplets falling from his hair to his shoulders, his muscles forming themselves against the skin-tight robe.

Opening your eyes, you took a glimpse of your lightsaber, unaware of Qimir slowly approaching you. You practised your movements, your hand twists, and leg work. You had to get used to the weight of the lightsaber after years of not touching one.

You stopped yourself from turning his direction when you felt his touch on your shoulders.

"Keep your shoulders back," he whispered, forcing your shoulders back into their correct position. You froze, now only focusing on the warmth reflecting of his body. He bent over so his lips could reach your ears, and his hands travelled down to your biceps. "Your elbows up. You have them too low." he simply added, his lips brushing against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. You pressed your legs together, unaware of your need.

You listened to him, tho, keeping your shoulders and elbows in the position he moved them. His hands didn't touch you fully, only tickling the surface of your skin, but it was enough to make you burn.

"You need to spread your legs," he added, hearing a small smile while informing you. You fought the urge to turn and hit him in the face with the lightsaber handle.

When you didn't listen, he forced his knee between your legs, forcing them apart.

"So you don't fall over," he whispered against your ear, the little hair on your neck standing up.

"I didn't ask for help," you uttered, bitterness in your tone. You wanted him gone, but not for the same reason you did yesterday. For the reason that he made you have physical reactions without touching you. Having to press your legs together because of his voice. Feeling your skin burn by feeling him pressed against your back.

"You obviously need it," He smiled against your earlobe before pulling back just to let his hands fall onto yours, checking the way you hold your saber. He fixed the placement of your fingers, his breath on your neck erasing all of your thoughts. His warm wet chest pressed against your back, his breath tickling you. Your ass pressed against his abdomen. It was all too much for you. You shouldn't be feeling this way.

Yes, he was attractive. Yes, he was charismatic and soft when he wanted to be. But he wield the power of the dark side. He couldn't be trusted. You were scared the dreams you were having so often might become true.

"Use your thumb," he woke you up from your thoughts, pushing himself against your back as he held your hands. His voice was low and dark. "Place it on the top to hold it steadily. That way, it won't slip out of your hands, and you won't have to use strength to keep it in place." Even the way he talked and taught you almost drove you over the edge. You knew that's what he wanted and fought hard against it.

"I know how to hold a lightsaber." You hissed, shaking off his hands. Regretting it as his hands found its way to your lower back, pushing in, you had to hold back a moan,

"Straight posture." he simply said, ignoring you, leaving his hands on the back of your hips. You focused on taking deep breaths, hoping the heat between your legs would go away.

Almost as if he felt it, his hands moved from the back to the front, tickling the exposed skin of your stomach. You wanted to cry out, his touch driving you insane. You wanted to do something and, at the same time, nothing. You wanted him to take you, but you also wanted to drive the lightsaber through his skull.

"You won't fight anyone without a straight posture," he emphasized, pushing his fingers into your stomach, holding you in place.

"I've fought many people without you before." you replied angrily, a small moan leaving your lips at the end of the sentence as he moved his fingers lower, under your belly button.

"And did you win?" he mocked you, whispering into your ear. His hands right above the place you used your fingers while wishing they were his.

You were done with his stupid comments and mockery, pushing against him to turn and punch him, but he didn't let you move a muscle. He was too strong.

"What do they teach you," he asked, genuine curiosity in his tone. "They don't teach you how to stand still or how to hold a lightsaber. Only how to surpress your emotions to become a hollow shell."

"That's not true," you argued. "We are taught to control our emotions, to feel them but not to let them get the best out of us."

"So why do you supress what you really want?" his voice turned into whisper again, his thumb making circling motion on your lower stomach. He knew exactly what he was doing, and he knew you were about to give up.

"Why do you shy away from your desire?" he added, using little to no strength to bring you skin to skin to him, feeling his length on your lower back.

Accidental moan left your lips. You closed your eyes out of embarrassment, wishing he didn't hear that. But you weren't that stupid.

"It's the path, path to the dark side." you stumbled over your words, feeling his fingers go lower, right above the belt of your pants.

Fuck.

"Then stop me," he whispered, his index finger going slowly underneath the hem of your pants. "Stop my hand. I'll let you." he added.

You didn't move a muscle. Only rested your head against his chest and let your arms fall by your side, lightsaber falling into the sand. You wanted him, and he wanted you. There was no reason to fight it. That was a problem for your future self.

"Tell me," he purred, his right hand painfully slowly maling their way to the hem of your panties. "Has anyone ever touched you like this?"

He was mocking you, playing with you. He knew no one ever had. You didn't count. "No," was your simple answer, wanting to dig yourself a deep hole in the ground and bury yourself in it.

"How does it feel?" he asked, his fingers finally reaching your wet bundle of nerves, slowly starting to circle your clit. You grabbed his arm out of shock, digging your nails into his skin. It felt too good. You were dripping wet, it was too easy for him to find your weak spot.

"As a Jedi, you can't even be with the people you love," he murmured into your ear before starting to leave small kisses down to your neck. "Can't give them the pleasure they deserve."

His fingers started to go up and down your clit, always stopping right before your entrance. You wanted to start begging for him to take you, but you didn't want to embarrass yourself more than you already have. You didn't pay attention to anything he was saying, only focusing on his fingers driving you crazy, making it difficult to keep a steady stance.

"What kind of life is that? Hmm?" His sloppy kisses and his fingers teasing your core themselves, almost had you falling over the edge. You were so touch deprived you were surprised you didn't cum when he touched you for the first time.

"Qimir," you cried out, wanting his fingers inside of you already. The first time, you said his name out loud. And he listened. His fingers stopped their movements, deserving an annoyed groan from you. He took them out of your pants, placing them on your waist to circle you so he could be face to face with you.

He didn't say anything before he bent his legs, kneeling in front of you, letting the sand swallow him. He looked up at you with pitch-black eyes, hinting on your pants. You understood, taking your time but nodding, letting him take off your pants and underwear.

The urge to cover your face and run away was strong, but the feeling of his mouth on your clit was stronger. You cried out hard, grabbing his hair as he dipped his tongue between your folds. This is what the Jedi deprived you of. You wanted to scream.

Qirim's tongue moved with rhythm against your dripping cunt, his fingers holding you still by your hips. Your hands were tangled in his hair, tugging on them every time he moved his tongue, teasing your entrance.

"Fuck," you hissed, your knees bending. Qimir quickly caught you, not stopping assaulting your clit. "Qimir, please," you begged. You weren't sure what you were wishing for anymore, but his name in your mouth felt almost as good as his tongue felt between your folds.

Your arms moved from his hair to his shoulders, holding yourself steady when his hand left your hip to put them between your legs. You caught a glimpse of his face when you looked down. Lustful dark eyes, messy hair, sweaty against his forehead, his nose and mouth covered in your slick. The view itself almost had you cumming on his tongue. So when his fingers joined the game, pushing inside of you, betwen your walls you let a pornographic moan. You were alone on this island but if someone was on the other end, you were certain they could hear you.

His fingers moved fast, in and out of you, spreading and curling inside of you. He was gentle with you at first but as he felt you getting closer and closer to the edge he threw all the respect out of the window, fucking you mercilessly with his thick fingers.

If his mouth and fingers had you screaming his name you wondered how his cock would feel.

"Qimir, I'm- " you cried out, wanting to warn him, but he felt it. The way your walls started to contract, crushing his fingers inside of you. His tongue kept circling your clit, adding to the pleasure. You were sure you formed new scars on his shoulders as you came hard around his fingers and tongue, failing to catch your breath and keep your legs straight and strong.

He held you for a few minutes as you rested against him, his lips still glossy with your wetness. Without thinking, you bended over to press your lips against his, tasting yourself, mixed with the flavor of him.