eve

and he has no clue about it.

"nghh! please tell me you're all in," he avoids the question but his ears twitch.

with a slow slide, he bottoms out in you. your lips are pulled taut and thin, glistening as they're stretched wilide.

"hey short stack, you crying?" you don't even notice tears have slipped loose. he cups your face, ears flat in concern.

"does it hurt? i-ill pull out," soft whines bubble from his throat. he leans in, licking away the salt on your cheeks. poor valko, his size feels like an imposition to him.

you shake your head. "move," you tell him. he bites the inside of his cheek before he buries his head into your neck and starts rocking his hips.

you don't know if it's the result of his grueling sets at the gym or just the terrifying width of him, but you swear you feel every hot, pulsing vein running down his shaft dragging against your hyper-sensitive walls with every pump.

"s-so big..." a broken sob slips past your lips at the wet, friction-heavy slide of him.

it's only when he sees your brows drawn in ecstasy that he lets himself indulge in the tight, hot grip of you. your exhausted walls pulse around his too-heavy length.

the slick, crimson tissues cling to him, pulling outward and turning slightly inside-out as they drag along his length.

his gaze moves lower to where he pokes at your tummy from the inside. it has him trembling, halting entirely. his tail stiffens at the sight and then thumps onto the mattress eagerly

"are you going to move or not?"

that's all the permission he needs to fuck like a bitch in heat.

The moment he has you spread open- thighs pushed wide, knees nearly to your chest- he sinks two fingers deep in one smooth thrust, searching with the calm focus of a man who has memorized every map of your body. The wet, obscene sound of him working into you is immediate and absolutely lewd. He curls, presses, drags the pads of his fingers along your walls until he finds it: that swollen, spongy spot that makes your spine snap tight and a broken moan rip from your throat.

“There,” he murmurs, voice low and steady, almost clinical. “That’s the one.”

Then he latches on to it.

No amount of begging or scratching will make him relent as he stimulates you incessantly- not the sloppy, cruel fingering popularised by cheap pornography, but in firm, methodical and purposeful movements that bring about the pleasure that drowns the pain of overstimulation, never once loosing their surgical precision even as desire mounts.

He anchors his other hand on your lower belly, pressing down to hold your squirming hips in place while he strokes that bundle of nerves with slow, deliberate drags. Each press-and-rub is firm enough that pleasure borders on pain, slow enough that you feel every ridge of his rough fingertips, the rough texture of his surgeon's callouses. The pressure builds like a storm gathering behind your eyes. Your walls flutter and clamp around him, but he doesn’t slow. He simply adjusts the angle and keeps going, relentless.

You buck. You claw at his wrist, nails digging crescents into his skin. “Zayne-fuck!!... too much, I can’t-”

“You can.” His voice is calm, almost gentle, even as his fingers piston against that spot with an almost sadistic flair. “Breathe through it. Let it take you.”

The overstimulation burns, white-hot and overwhelming, but beneath it the pleasure is molten. It drowns everything. Your thighs shake violently. Slick gushes around his knuckles, dripping down to soak the sheets, coating his palm, running down his forearm in shiny trails.

He doesn’t care.

He never flinches from the mess. If anything, the wetter and filthier you get, the darker his eyes become, mouth open as he wonders just how can you drip so much just from his fingers.

A third finger joins the first two. The stretch is sudden and perfect. He curls all three against that spot in tight, rhythmic presses- almost like he’s milking it- and your vision whites out.

The orgasm crashes into you so hard your back arches clean off the bed, a silent scream caught in your throat. Your walls spasm violently around his fingers, but Zayne doesn’t stop. He keeps stroking, firm and steady, dragging every last pulse out of you until you’re sobbing, shaking, gushing helplessly on his hand.

Only when your voice cracks into a wrecked whimper does he finally ease off- just enough to let you breathe, never fully pulling out. His fingers stay buried deep, gently petting your fluttering walls while you twitch and leak on him.

He leans down, lips brushing your ear to plant a fluttering kiss that seems more mocking than soothing, voice rough with restrained lust.

“So good for me...see? I told you you'd like it." he says before straightening up. "But that was only the first one. I’m nowhere near done finding out how many times I can make you break tonight.”

bringing your soft hand to rest against his cheek, tracing his scar with your thumb. his brows furrow and his pace falters. for just a second, you see something different glint in his eyes before he's roughly flipping you over and pushing your face into the mattress.

brigham young literally ordered the mormon militia to "exterminate" the Timpanogos people - murdering the men and selling the women and children into slavery. The remains of Black Hawk were robbed from his grave and put on display in temple square until 1996

The full truth needs to be heard. It can't be minimized into something titillating but consumable. The Timpanogos people did not endure the grief and suffering brought by the mormon militia so people could both leave them out of the discussion and make money off a story they were erased from.

fbi!dex who’d never been in a proper relationship before you. he struggled with comforting u, and wasn’t really good with emotions as a whole and often felt awkward whenever he caught that u were upset. usually giving u “i’m sorry, that must be really hard.” and letting you cling onto him.

before u two began dating he had a habit of stalking ur socials, and later on that still stuck. he caught wind of u reposting a few things related to getting fucked to soothe ur feelings. so it clicked to dex that was how he could comfort u from now on!

it began after someone had been an asshole too u at work and u just wanted help — surprised when dex began to slide ur shorts down slowly with mumbled comforts and slipping his fingers into u clumsily.

from then on: rough day? he’ll bend u over the nearest surface. upset over a small problem? he’ll eat you out.

── ⊹ ࣪ ˖ BENJAMIN POINDEXTER toxic traits

buckle up, this gonna hurt!

⊹ dex remembers every vulnerable thing you’ve ever told him. your insecurities, your fears, the names of people who hurt you, the stories you only shared because you trusted him.

but during an argument, when his emotions finally crack through the surface, he knows exactly where to press to make you go quiet. the words come out cool and measured instead of shouted. the moment he sees your face fall, he stops talking altogether, realizing he’s crossed a line he can’t easily undo.

the dex 1x08 swiffer video has now been found in good quality!