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adventuringblind · 6 months

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Teach Me Part One

Max Verstappen x Reader Part Two

Genre: hurt/comfort (2.7k words)

Summary: Max helps our protagonist through a journey of sexual discovery. You know - after she's been assaulted... Don't worry though, he's got her (and her virginity).

Warnings: Attempted r@pe, BDSM in the wrong way, then it gets better, lots of discussions, Virgin reader, softdom Max, toxic ex, dom/sub, alluded to smut

Notes: I hope this is what le requester was looking for! I tried my best to get everything and I think I did! Really hope you like it and that it brings you comfort!

Side Note: My inbox is open if you wanna come chat with me because I'm going insane over here...

Masterlist // Request Form // My Website // buy me a Ko-Fi

Trust is something most people underestimate the power of. Trust is sitting on a chair and thinking it will hold you. Trust getting in your car and knowing it will get you to work and back.

Trusting people is harder than trusting inanimate objects. It’s easy to come back from a chair breaking or a car randomly stopping. Humans take the trust of others and stomp on it. They treat it like a toy; something to be thrown away when they are done with it.

She did trust once. She tried to give someone her love. It didn’t work out for her, and made her struggle to trust anyone after that.

Max swings her legs back and forth on the counter. GP had come in not five minutes ago and told him to get down. But Max is like a cat, and refused to get off.

She sits in a chair in the office area, preparing for debrief. Her fingers crossed it goes longer because that means right to sleep with her. Her boyfriend won’t have any reason to keep her up. Not when she has a race tomorrow.

“Any plans for after the race?”

Logically, there is no way Max doesn’t know her plans. They’ve grown up together; her and Max against the world.

She shrugs. “I’m not sure. Probably just hanging out with my boyfriend.”

“Boring, you should come out with the team!” The warmth on his features makes her want to melt. She’d much rather be with Max. Her relationship hasn’t been going well for some time now and she’s been trying to find something to repair it. Because she can’t bring herself to leave. He’s guilted her into staying; the fear of being alone outweighs wanting to leave him.

“If I could find something to do with him, then maybe it would be less boring.”

Max Waves her off after the race with a grimace. She knows he hates the guy, but he also doesn’t even know the full extent as to why she hates him. Why she can’t stand being around him for longer then she has to.

She’s alone in the room for a minute. Her boyfriend is still in the shower for the time being, meaning - she has time to indulge herself.

It’s a stupid interest, really. Max had brought it up in passing; something he’d tried with partners. The one problem with being Max’s friend? His astute lack of knowing when enough information has been given. Still, the details of his experimentation through the years left her wanting to know more.

Her recent search history has been her own exploration into the world of BDSM. It’s a stupid thing to look into considering the male she’s with isn’t the nicest about sex. No, he’s tried to coerce her a few times now. He comes to races with the intention of trying to get in her pants. It’s just not something she wants yet and she’ll continue to let him fuck her throat if it means holding him off from taking that piece of her until she’s ready.

She’s caught up in her own thoughts, mindlessly scrolling something mildly more explicit. “Watcha looking at?” The obnoxiously placed male on the bed tries to crane her head to look at her phone.

In her panic to hide the screen, she fumbles. His hands snatch it away from her and begin scrolling where she had left off. “It’s nothing-”

“Actually, this is something. Is this all it takes to get you to let me in finally? Would you like to be owned?”

She would like to tell him no. She wants to explain what she wants is to feel safe with someone; enough to let go for once. “Just something I was curious about, is all.”

“Whatever - don’t expect me to stick around much longer then. Maybe this will help us get back to where we were.”

She ends up with a bruised throat the next morning. Her peace offering to him since he was adamant about getting something from her.

What she was not expecting the next morning to be woken up stuck to the headboard. Her wrists hurt more than her throat and the fear clouding her brain makes it hard to tell what’s really happening. She tugs at it, only to be stopped by a familiar set of hands. “Isn’t this what you wanted? I figured I’d indulge you.” He sounds nonchalant about all this. She’s not sure if that makes it better or worse. “Just relax, yeah? I’ll take care of you.”

It’s the way he’s eating her with his eyes. The sinister tone in his voice. She doesn’t want to be here. The more she tries to relax, the more she ends up panicking. His touch on her skin hurts more than she wants to admit.

“Would you stop squirming?”

“No!” She pulls harder at the stupid restraints around her wrists. She pulls until her hands start to slide out, bloody and burned, but it’s enough.

The second she’s free, she’s flipping them. They wrestle as she attempts to flee, eventually able to slip her way around him and out the door.

She’s barefoot, disheveled, her long shirt barely covering her ass. Not bare, thankfully, but pretty close to it. The adrenaline kicks in and she sprints to Max’s room three floors up and prays there is nobody around. Grateful for the early hour in the morning that this has occurred.

Her knuckles hit the door with a bruising force. “Max! Max please open up! Max-” The door opens and she tumbles inside. Nearly hitting the floor, but Max’s quick reflexes are there to steady her.

She clings to him, sobbing, the fear of what might have happened to her hitting like a punch to the gut.

Max ends up getting her stuff for her. She can’t stomach the thought of ever seeing that man again. Let alone attempting anything intimate.

Max lets her stay in his guest room for the time being. He doesn’t push for her to talk about it. Not yet at least, but she knows he’ll get impatient just like the rest of them. He’ll kick her out when she doesn’t give him what he wants.

Max finds her out on his balcony four months into their new living situation. It didn’t help that winter break happened three weeks after the whole ordeal. It’s nice solely for the reason they drive for the same team. Otherwise, she’d hate being left here to wallow in her own self pity.

Max sits himself on the side across from her. “Wanna talk about what’s going on in your head? I miss seeing you smile.” She can tell he’s nervous, his lip biting from childhood never went away.

“Just thinking.”

“About?”

He’s worried; can clearly hear it in his voice. He wants to know that she isn’t going to do anything crazy. “What happened, I guess.”

“I’m here. If you ever want to talk about it - I’m here.”

Maybe it’s the thought of Max having defended her for years now, or the safety she has always found with him. “It’s really stupid.” She drops her head into her knees.

“Can’t be if it’s making you upset.”

“He saw something I wa looking at on my phone the night before I forced myself into your room-”

Max’s eyes go wide. “Alright, the only stupid thing about that is you thinking you forced yourself on me. You can come to me whenever and I’ll open the door.” He gestures for her to continue after his interruption. “What was on your phone?”

This is the part where she runs if things go south. “Itwaslikesexstuff…”

“Sex stuff?” Well, her original plan has failed. How he could have ever understood that is beyond her.

“The - the kind that - you talked about?”

His cheeks turn a bright shade of crimson red. “Curiosity, I presume?”

“If you count the last two years as a curiosity phase, then sure.”

“I’m - I’m so sorry.”

She blinks at him. The words are barely sinking in as she watches him rub his palm against his neck and jaw. “Why are you apologizing?”

“Because I sent you - unknowingly, sure - down a rabbit hole that can be dangerous if you don’t know where to look.” His sad demeanor makes her want to hug him. “Was it something related to BDSM stuff? I swear if he hurt you I know where he lives still-”

“Max please-” The laugh raging through her is pathetic. “-As much as I’d love to see him get his ass handed to him, I think I’ll be okay in time. He didn’t rape me. Close to it, but I managed to get away.”

“Oh fuck! Your wrists were busted! I should’ve known.”

“Yeah well, I guess it gives someone else the opportunity to take my virginity-” Well, cats out of the bag now. She had meant it as a joke, something to lighten the mood. Now Max is gaping at her and she’s not sure how to feel about it.

He slides over to her; their knees now knocking together. “Someone else, huh? Have anyone in mind?”

“Had someone in mind for ages, but he wouldn’t feel the same.” Because he’s seen the worst of her. There is no way Max could ever love someone like her. Someone who struggles with intimacy-

“Try me. Because I think anyone would be lucky to have you.”

“What about you?”

“Especially me.”

It’s a month after that where Max brings up the subject again. They’ve kissed and cuddled, but nothing aside from that. She has tried to suck him off. Her mindset being it would appease him for the time being but Max had refused. ‘Not until you are doing it because you want to, not because you think it’s your job.’

She wanted to lay there and cry. Which she might have, but fell asleep at some point. The subject hadn’t been brought up again until now. At the breakfast table of all places.

“So, out of curiosity, are you still curious?”

She drops her fork out of surprise. “I - I mean… yes? But I’m not sure I want to go through that again-”

“Nope, never. What he did was wrong, plain and simple.”

“But isn’t that what it is?”

“It is about trust and safety. I’m going to assume you didn’t have a safeword?”

No, because they didn’t even talk about it. She just woke up tied to the bed and was told to stay still. She settles for shaking her head no. Overwhelmed by the severe lack of anything that Max is talking about.

“If you want, we can take things at your pace, yes? I’ll show you what the bastard should have done.”

And if that didn’t pique her interest, she doesn’t know what would. “Yeah I - I think I’d like that.”

Max takes her out to dinner a week later. Her favorite, as usual, since it’s also his favorite (another perk of growing up together). He’s terribly sweet to her the entire night. Which isn’t that big of a change from normal - but Max is sassy and won’t hesitate to throw a sarcastic insult her way.

“Are you alright if we talk about some things tonight?” He asks on the car ride home. “I would like to get a feel for what you might want to try in the future so I can research a bit.”

“Yeah - yeah sure.”

Max collects her into his arms on the sofa. The stubble on his chin prickles her skin while he leaves playful kisses. The notebook he has resting on his (and hers by proxy) knee is flipped open to a blank page.

“Okay, first up is safe words.”

“To be fair, I know what they are and why they are important. He just didn’t talk to me about anything first…”

Max hums. “And we’re still gonna talk about them!” He giggles when she groans. “Hey! This is the safety stuff I was talking about. Do you know the traffic light system?”

“Green is for good and red is for stop…”

“And yellow is for?”

“Pointless, is what I’ve read.” She shrugs.

Again, Max gapes at her. “On the contrary, yellow could just mean something doesn’t feel right or you need a minute to breathe. Not a full stop, but a slow down.”

That makes more sense now. Curse the internet! She probably should’ve made sure her information sources were credible to begin with. “Yellow means wait a second.”

“Secondly, it’s usually good to have multiple safewords. Red is one and the other I use is Mercedes.”

She can’t contain her laughs. Nearly falling out of Max’s lap as she clutches her chest. “Mercedes?!”

“Think about it! If Mercedes becomes a normal bedroom topic then we may need to rethink some things.”

“Fair point, but it’s still a bit funny!”

“Next thing on the list is how I personally like to conduct a scene.” The smirk plastered on his face makes her want to curl up in a ball and hide away.

“Is it not the normal way?”

“To be fair - there is not a normal way. It’s just how I’ve come to enjoy setting things up prior. Like discussion beforehand is always a must.”

“Like what we’re doing now?”

“Exactly!”

They end up talking for hours on end. Into the morning until they are both passed out on the couch. Needless to say they don’t get any further than that.

More daycare spent simply talking about it. Max takes care to make sure every detail is talked about. It’s the small things that she hadn’t even thought to consider earlier on.

It becomes safer just by talking about it. Like Max has somehow made it less scary. Which could also just be because he keeps talking about safety.

She explores in the way she is comfortable with. Small touches here and there, a bit of oral when she can manage. Max checks in with her almost too often. Specifically when she’d like him to keep his tongue where it’s at. He laughs at her frustrated huffs. They do the non-sexual side of things more often. Sometimes he takes things into his own hands, getting her on her knees. Nothing more than what she’s willing to do.

It’s when she wins a race, high on adrenaline and soaked to the bones in champagne, that she feels the desire to go further.

She attempts to jump Max’s bones when they are finally back in their hotel. “You don’t want to go celebrate?”

“Can’t I celebrate with just you?”

“You certainly can, but I plan on taking my time if we’re doing this tonight.” The post race gravel in his voice has her swooning.

“Please Max? I want you.”

“I’m going to ask you if you’re sure a million times regardless.”

He pulls her in for a gentle kiss. It turns heated and eager quicker than anytime before. Her need to get her desperation across has Max pinning her to the wall. She squeaks in surprise, having not seen it coming.

“Someone is eager tonight.”

“Are you going to make me beg for it?”

“Not tonight, another time though.”

He taps the bottom of her thighs. He lifts her like she’s nothing and sets her on the bed gently. “Shall we review?”

“Green for go, Yellow for slow, Red or Mercedes for stop.”

God is he beaming at her. His knuckles caress her jaw. “Good girl.”

Gone, she’s so gone for this man it’s not funny anymore. Not when he talks to her like that.

Max takes care of her, runs his hands across her body and makes her shiver. He strips each article of clothing like she’s the most delicate thing he’s ever touched.

“Color?” He says while leaning over her with no clothes between them.

“Green.”

The next morning is fuzzy. She’s not sure if it’s because she and Max were up until the early hours of the morning, or because she’s sore in places she didn’t know could be. It’s unreal how good she feels; how loved and wanted.

She wants to stay here, frozen in this moment, watching the sun soak into Max’s skin. He’s breathtaking; always has been.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” Max cracks a smile and stretches his arms out around her.

“You’re a dork.”

“Ah, but you trust me enough to be your dork. Specifically yours; all this dorkiness is for you.”

She rolls on top of him. “Hey Max?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks - you know - for teaching me and making it special.”

“You deserve is schat. I’m glad you trust me. That's a big honor and I’m grateful for it.”

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transfemchem · 2 months

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Robot that’s an old piece of industrial equipment, it’s been part of a factory for longer than you have been alive. It’s covered in seven layers of mismatched paint, old union stickers, grease and dust. It still has all the lock-out-tag-out points left over from before you brought it home, and they can be necessary at times when it has to hold still for maintenance and not chop off an entire finger on accident. It uses a mix of stepper motors, hydraulics and pneumatics, internal compressors constantly chugging away. Few of its non structural parts are the original, but none of them are matching, each piece replaced as part of numerous refits and repairs. It’s been retired now, and it’s hard to not see the sadness in its eyes as it considers itself without purpose.

Will you still love it? When it blows an age old hydraulic line and falls over, going halfway through your floor with its cast iron weight? When it clumsily attempts artistry with its heavy hands never intended for the purpose? When it leaves heavy bruises across your flesh after a misguided attempt at affection? When it tearfully asks you for a 480V 3 phase power hookup (Jesus Christ how do you get one of those in a residential area?)? When hugging it means you will need a shower afterwards?

#robots #robotics #robot girl #eroticism of the machine

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servingrobin · 2 months

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a cute request monster trio comforting reader F after a battle that reader loses but is feeling bad for the team and they comfort her 💕

Ahh this is cute love it x

Sanji, Luffy, Zoro

Warnings: angst and fluff plain and simple

✨requests are open✨

Luffy:

- actual worlds best hype man

- Tells you stories about the fights he’s lost and how he overcame the struggles

- Makes it his mission to make you feel better: Attacks you with jokes and tickles and silly faces until your laughing again, Showers you in smooches, throws you around deck and catches you with his elasticated body to make you giggle, feasts of your favourite comfort foods every day (insert Sanji with the stink eye at Luffy)

- And late at night when you’re cuddled up close, nose skimming Luffy’s neck as you burrow into his side, you’ll admit you’re embarrassed about losing. You’re ashamed you couldn’t protect the crew

- Luffy will pull you even closer, wants you under his skin, and gently kisses the tears away

- “I’ll protect ya from anything pudding, but I don’t need to. Yer strong enough to do whatever ya want, yer just gotta believe it”

- This man will light a warm fire inside you that carries you through the night

Zoro:

- shit happens is Zoro’s motto

- The whole crew knows how awful losing a fight can feel, and Zoro’s main priority is that you’re uninjured and healthy

- Unfortunately not going to be the most sympathetic, but he’s not at all cruel either

- Will jokingly tell you to drink your emotions like he does, which goes down like a brick

- He lets you cry/talk/scream your feelings out, gives you awkward pats on the back that turn into far more comfortable bear hugs

- Forehead kisses and holding pinkie fingers whilst your upset, Zoro just wants to see you happy again, eyes unclouded from the guilt and shame

- helping you find solutions is Zoro’s biggest thing

- If your fighting technique was weak, easy let’s train

- If it’s power related, well there’s a whole crew here to help you figure it out

- If it’s holding back, then damn just wait until Sanji’s particularly annoying and get some practice (that one was maybe a joke but your green haired lover had a look of dead seriousness)

- Zoro makes sure you know how proud he is of you whenever you take the steps to get better

- He loves you dearly and just wants you to succeed

Sanji:

- I adore Sanji but this guy is a textbook white knight

- He’ll step into any fight you’re involved in, and whilst most of the time you can more than hold your own - this time you lost

- And Sanji was there in seconds, raining kicks down on your opponent without a second thought

- You appreciated his protection but sometimes it just made you feel week, especially on occasions like this

- “Don’t worry mon Cherie I’ll always be there to step in.” Makes you feel 100% times worse, and you’re ashamed to admit the tears flowed freely

- Sanji is on his knees begging to know what he did wrong

- And when you finally admit how inadequate you feel to get beaten, to need him to step in so frequently, it just about breaks his heart

- Sanji drags you around the ship late that night, making you stop in different crew areas

- “Franky repairs anything the ship needs…..Brook gives us music…..Chopper is the best damn doctor on these seas….”

- He rattles off more and more, talking for hours about the crew and what they bring to the Sunny - none of it their fighting skills

- “You want to be better at fighting then I’ll help you my darling, but no one is here just to fight,” he pauses with a hand on your chin, tilting your head up to look him in those ocean blue eyes, “every single person makes the Sunny home, everyone has their purpose.”

- You’re crying again, tears silently streaming down your face - this time with belated emotion

- You press a sweet kiss to Sanji’s lips and he makes you forget every worry you had

#one piece #op #one piece imagine #one piece x reader #op imagine #vinsmoke sanji #luffy x reader #monkey d. luffy #roronoa zoro #sanji x reader #luffy fluff #zoro x reader #zoro fluff #sanji fluff #sanji headcanons #luffy headcanons #zoro headcanons #op headcanons #op x reader

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eatommo · 4 months

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Hotshot [c.f.99]

CW: Poly!batchxreader, group sex, exhibitionism, oral sex (m&f recieving), double penetration, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, vaginal and anal creampie, multiple partners, cumshots, anal sex, ass eating, spanking, praise, authority kink, cucking? kinda?, implied recording of sex, mention of weapons, mentions of aftercare, overstimulation, post season 7 pre omega, dom/sub dynamics, allusions to subspace, slight degradation, shower sex, mutual pining lots of kissing, no clonecest, liberties for hunter's tattoo, reader has hair long enough to pull, reader gets picked up and carried, i probably missed something let me know!

A/N: 5.6k of pure smut, absolutely no plot here. All mistakes are mine, repost and let me know what/if you like <3

As you climb the steps to the Marauder, something about this mission feels different. It's been months since you've been away from the boys, and almost as long since you cared.

Since running away from the clutches of the empire and charming your way aboard the ship you've become an asset to the team even in just your companionship, but it was also nice to have someone around who wasn't a clone. It made it that much easier to do recon, and also that much easier to infiltrate a group because your face wasn't spread across every corner of the Empire.

However, the longer you stayed with them, the more you valued what made them different. You learned who to go to for help with blaster trouble, and even learned to overlook Crosshair’s slights during your target practice. You’ve also learned that Hunter was sensitive to flowers and strong scents and that he had the best-smelling soap aboard the ship (and never seemed to mind when you used it). Tech, on the other hand, was always great at making you feel included, but was always, always going to double-check anything you did to the ship ‘just in case.’ Echo might've been one of the most interesting people to talk to, during his work with the 501st and the glory days of working alongside some of the most powerful Jedi in the galaxy he saw many planets and cultures that you had only dreamed about. Wrecker, well, he was a big softy despite his talent for demolitions and overall penchant for violence, he was the first to volunteer to take you out and stretch your legs in a nearby city and to help you bring home rations (and a sweet treat or two) for the rest of the crew, and has even carried you home from cantina trips a time or two.

They were closer than any other troop you'd seen, all depending and working so tightly and neatly together you'd think that adding you to the mix would complicate things but all you seemed to do was fit in like sand in the desert. You fell into a routine, they'd leave you at the ship during more dangerous jobs, typically with Echo or Tech at your side to assist with any repairs as you kept the inside of the ship in order, and kept a close eye on any equipment and prepping rations and meals as they became available.

After a stop on Batuu, in which you fought every urge to procure a Loth cat, instead letting Crosshair buy you a long thin vibroblade to appease you. “I haven't given up by the way.” You shout over your shoulder, as you settle into your seat before the others.

“I've thought so.” Tech, his voice more amused than anything. “Let us not berate the woman so that she uses that thing on us, shall we? We are cleared for takeoff.” Wrecker chuckles at the idea of you brandishing the thin blade to any of them. You could hold your own for sure, but you were no ARC trooper.

You settle aboard, staying seated until you reach the upper atmosphere, locking your cloak away with your blade, settling back into the seat near the cockpit, and resting your head against the wall.

“If you need rest, my bunk is open,” Wrecker whispers his words and his voice contradicting each other. He's gruff but his speech is soft like he's afraid to startle you, he's cleaning his blaster but leans forward to speak softly to you. “It's still the biggest bunk.” He smiles and with his helmet in his lap, you can see the intense scaring over the side of his head, and your fingers twitch at your side begging to caress it.

“I'm fine thank you.” You beam at him surprised by the crack in your voice and not wanting to seem ungrateful for the gesture. “I’m quite content out here.” Wrecker blushes, as if embarrassed he even brought it up.

You can hear the audible judgemental breath of Crosshair even from your position behind his back, as he examines his rifle, something amiss and there's a thick tension in the room you can't quite place. Glancing around as they settle in for take-off, none of them seem to want to meet your eyes.

“I didn't expect you all to get so shy, I thought maybe you were starting to warm up to me.” You let your voice trail off, a hint of a tease that cuts into the thick tension in the air for a brief moment. Before Hunter sharply stands up and lets his feet carry him towards you.

Last night’s mission for Rex was messier than any of you had expected and used up the last of your bacta supply. Hence the trip to Batuu, and what you thought was a tense conversation about purpose or authority between the group. You’d overheard something about keeping secrets when you’d greeted them at the ship’s ramp and the pinched nerve in Hunter’s jaw encouraged you to keep your mouth shut. Since the tension between each of them has been as taught and dangerous as a tightrope. As the long-haired clone approached you, you sat straighter, already apologizing for being difficult before he cut you off.

Leaning down until he is practically whispering in your ear, "We are programmed to be professional first and foremost. And we are not always so shy."

Just sharing your space with him has your body reacting to him, vibrating in both fear and a sneaking feeling of arousal. His breath is hot and you turn to look into his dark brown eyes, eyes you should be so familiar with. “I am not an officer, I do not bite, and there's no reason to be formal.” the sentence comes out as a squeak, and you try to hide embarrassment flashing through your cheeks.

He smiles, his voice dips lower but is so soft you swear you can feel his words caress your skin, “Easy hotshot, we might like a woman who bites.”

Oh, oh wow. We.

In an instant, everything and all your feelings about them shift and change. You spent the last few rotations convincing yourself it was normal to feel bubbly around them, they'd saved you, and they were providing for you. This feeling, the unmistakable pull of longing and need in the pit of your belly, would complicate things.

Hunter stands and departs the conversation with an ease you envy. You take a deep breath and compose yourself just to look up and see the rest of the crew watching you, like a wounded animal, you catch just a glimmer of a blush in Echo’s face.

Rex mentioned they were a tight-knit group he seemed shocked you fell in line with them, but hell you didn't expect this. Each of them is in their thoughts as you glance around the ship. Echo and Tech are busying themselves with the controls, but you can see Echo worrying his lip, and Tech turning his head to glance at you every few moments as if wondering what will happen first. Or rather who?

Crosshair stares at you, blankly like he's trying to read every line in your smile or every wrinkle in your clothes, your eyes click together and he smiles like a lothcat with a womprat in his teeth. “You're not intimidated by us?” It's almost as if he's as shocked as the fact itself, there's a cutting edge to the statement like you should be, and then a corner of his mouth turns up. “You like being here,” he tests the statement as if tasting the fact on his tongue, “with all of us.”

You smirk, doing your best to match the heat in his stare, “I am grateful. I've never felt so important or wanted,” you swallow thickly letting the heat in your body you know Hunter can sense, speak for itself, “At least, not yet.” You shift in your seat glancing up at Hunter who is glaring hungrily at your chest as if he could hear your heart leap in your chest with every passing moment.

You glance up to the stars ahead of the ship, Tech looks like he's preparing the ship to jump to light speed. The return mission, at its worst, should only take a few days and even less of that is travel, normally you're not one for long lightspeed trips but this time you wonder if it will be too short.

The way the crew looks at you makes your skin tingle, not sure if you’ve ever been paid this much attention before. As the ship lurches into hyperspace, you let your head lull back to catch Hunter's attention, peering up towards his face as your chin hovers just a foot away from his codpiece.

Doing your best to keep your breath even, a part of you wishes to stand and kiss him, but this time it’s your turn to feel shy. You stand, brushing your chest across Hunter’s’ and waltzing over to lean against the control panel of the ship and the two quieter clones on this ship.

The moment Tech realizes you’re moving towards him his posture is stuck straight, but Echo only leans slightly towards you as you pass your hand over his shoulder. Standing at the front of the ship has only allowed them all to stare at you, your heart skips a beat. You see Hunter’s eye twitch, he is reading you like a book.

“Well,” you speak slowly and eloquently, playing into their curiosity, “How should we pass the time?”

“Come here.” the room's attention snaps to Crosshair, whose red-hot gaze is marring into your skin. Silence falls over the craft as Crosshair lifts a hand and gestures toward his empty waiting lap. Slowly, Echo, Tech, and Wrecker turn again towards you but Hunter stays strong locked into some silent dialogue with his brother.

You feel as if it is entirely dangerous to cross the space between the two. Yet your feet carry you without worry, and neither of them breaks until their vision is obstructed by your body. You turn facing the softened expression in Hunter’s eyes, and slowly lower yourself onto Crosshair's lap.

Placing your hands on his knees to steady yourself, you lean back until your head is resting on his chest and his breath is hot against the shell of your ear. “Good girl.”

His whispers send shivers down your spine and Hunter sinks to his knees in front of you, as Cross removes your shirt from over your head and the rest of the Batch descends upon you like wolves.

As Hunter’s face presses against the softness of your hip, Tech's teeth graze your neck and Wrecker's hands smooth over your nipples, you're overwhelmed at their strength. These are battle-hardened soldiers, Crosshair runs a calloused finger down your spine, and you're reminded how soft you are. Your skin is plush and comforts all of Hunter’s senses as the boys proceed to lose themselves upon you, you're reminded of the comfort they provide for you, a safety net you never knew you craved and the appetite you never knew could become so hungry.

Your canvas pants are ripped down the leg by Wrecker and Hunter’s combined efforts, the sound almost drowned out by a collection of panting wanton noises, and the scraps hit the floor out of sight.

Hunter noses across the top of your panties, letting his breath fan over the sensitive skin of your pussy as you feel Cross shift his hips and push his hard cock into your ass. All of them are in full armor, save for the helmets, yet you lie strewn out before them slick pooling in your panties as they take turns pulling pleasure from your body like they serve no higher purpose.

It's Wrecker who pulls himself from his flight suit first, and you can't remember ever having such a physical reaction to something like this before. You reach out on instinct, fingers not wrapping completely around his girth and teasing the pink tip until it begins to leak into your palm. He towers over your head as whimpers and shudders wrack through his body as though he's never been touched.

You catch a glimpse of Echo, standing slightly off to the side, watching with his pupils fully dilated as he follows the path of Hunter’s mouth on your skin his face flush with crimson. Tilting your head back you turn towards Crosshair and give him a deep kiss, letting him lick into your mouth feverishly. Hunter’s fingers trace over your seam delicately over the thin fabric of your panties as they grow transparent with your desire.

Wrecker’s cock is thick and heavy in your hand, and you clench wantingly around nothing, his hips brush into your hand with a tenderness you long to experience. Crosshair snakes a hand up your chest and cradles the thin skin over your throat, chasing Tech’s glancing kisses away, but taking the opportunity to encourage you to grind your hips against his cock.

In a few mere movements, the men surrounding you have altered your state of mind and each passing touch coaxes you further into submission. Tech shifts and lets his breath ghost over your nipples, you turn your head and catch Hunter in a deep kiss noting how different he tastes and feels against you. You let your thumb swipe over the leaking tip of Wrecker's cock, and fight the urge to stuff your fingers in your mouth to taste.

Hunter breaks the kiss and steps away, letting Echo take his place between your legs but not before using his dagger to cut the hip of your undergarments and stuffing them into one of his pant pockets.

You blush at the obscenity of it all, but it quickly soothed away but the cool metal of Echo’s headpiece brushing over your thighs. Wordlessly Crosshair adjusts the seat so your pussy is presented to Echo, leaning more onto your back and looking up at the boys devouring your form.

His mouth is hot, licking softly over your clit as you relax with Crosshair stroking the pulse point in your neck. You’re slick with arousal and he doesn’t hesitate to lick it up teasing your entrance with the tip of his tongue.

You writhe, letting yourself melt against him, fighting to stay concentrated enough to play with Wrecker’s balls tugging and rolling them beneath your fingers. Eager to pleasure every one of them.

Echo’s glove ghosts over your sex, teasing your entrance with a digit, the leather smoothly gliding over your skin. Hunter and Tech each take to stroking down your thighs and holding them in place, “Easy, meshla, we will take good care of you.”

Your mind is swimming, when did this start? Tech steps a hair closer to your face, tilting your jaw up with his free hand, and slips a finger past your lips. You suck lightly, sure to match the pace at which you’re stroking Wrecker. You get a praising hum, and Tech surprisingly is the second to drop his pants and pull himself free. Stroking himself to the rhythm of you teasing him with a curl of your tongue.

It's the tangled moan of you around Tech’s fingers that breaks Crosshair, his pants unbearably tight and each little movement of your hips making him clench his jaw to stave the noises that die in his throat. He lifts you to your feet, and removes his pants, letting himself spring free. You have to admit you expected the armor to be harder to take off.

You stand on unsteady feet, in an attempt to turn your head towards Crosshair, Hunter captures your chin in two fingers locking your eyes together. “Echo.” A chuckle reverberates between them, all seemingly on board with whatever plan this could be. Echo slides flat onto his back looking up at you and the rest of the boys. The realization is enough to make you shiver. Your pussy clenches, still empty, but a dripping mess sticks your thighs together. Hunter’s eyes are burning through your resolve, there’s an intensity you’d come to respect that now sends a spike of fear through you. “Sit.”

You go to protest but are quickly shut down and you look around at the men surrounding you eagerly but patiently waiting for you to follow his instructions. Swallowing thickly over the lump in your throat, you sink to your knees and hover a few inches from Echo’s waiting mouth. From your knees they tower above you, all but Hunter free from their confines. You get a good look at the three cocks, all weeping and swollen pink across their tip, beautifully complimenting the darker-tanned skin of their shaft.

Each of them was different, which only slightly surprises you, Wrecker being the thickest, but both Tech and Crosshair meet him in length. You can feel each breath from Echo’s mouth, knowing you're probably close to dripping across his chin. You lower slowly, afraid to hurt him, until he licks the seam of your entrance savoring the hot flesh and you seek his tongue sitting on his face in earnest. His mouth brings welcome waves of pleasure as he suckles on your clit.

They pump themselves slowly, enjoying the view of your tits bouncing with each shiver. You start to move your hips in small circles while reaching to palm over Crosshair’s balls and stroking up over his shaft squeezing a bead of precome from the tip. You open your mouth and glance between them, expecting to see some kind of hierarchy emerge but they take a half step toward you together.

You opt for taking Tech into your mouth, but only because he's in the middle, letting yourself drool around him as you suck on the thick knot of his cock head, before turning and spitting the excess saliva onto Crosshair’s cock coating it with slick to make your fist glide against him nice and quickly. Tightening around the base and working more of those beautiful precum drips from his leaking tip.

You snap back to Tech’s cock, tasting the sweat of his skin, and the desire for your body grows with each passing second as he throbs needfully in your mouth.

Echo is teasing your clit with calculated movements of his tongue, licking around it in sharp purposeful circles, and sucking on it every few passes. Enough to make your brain fuzz up each time his lips seal around you as Tech nudges the back of your throat to earn a gag.

You pull off him again, this time gathering the drool in your mouth to cover as much of Wrecker's cock as you physically can. His cock is so heavy it sways low on his hips thick and so hard your body is already aching for the sting that will accompany the stretch. You use the thick spit to pump him slower, allowing yourself a moment to admire what has to be the largest you'll ever get the chance to worship.

The slick sounds are broken with an “Atta girl.” in the shape of a deep growl from Wrecker’s chest. He reaches and gathers some drool from your chin and brushes it over your lip and you open instinctively, just as Echo uses his tongue to prod at your entrance. His praise is as wholesome as his affection for you.

Hunter has taken a seat across from the rest of you, watching as if analyzing each movement of your legs as they quiver from the ravenous pleasure and your throat tightens around the length of Crosshair's shaft. His thin fingers find purchase at the back of your neck, urging you to sputter around him and the sick squelch just barely audible beneath your moans.

Echo swiftly plunges two fingers into your pussy, crooking them and stroking deliciously at your g-spot and forcing you to pull yourself away from Crosshair to let your head drop as you fight for composure. “Let yourself enjoy it little one. It won’t be your last.” Cross takes the tip of his cock and taps the tip to your tongue.

You swear, body humming and teetering on the edge before losing yourself to one hellishly explosive orgasm. It shocks you, body shaking and toes curling against the cool floor as your body burns in the aftershocks Echo works you through it with some tentative kisses to your entrance, and he encourages you to sit up so he can slide out from under you.

So much of the room is spinning you don’t notice Tech sitting in front of you until you’re kissing him. His tongue finds yours in a syrupy sweet and methodical kiss as you fight to catch your breath. Wrecker moves behind you, running his rough hands down your back and palming the flesh of your ass, striking it with a loud slap.

Tech swallows your gasp, pinching your nipples and pulling them as Wrecker bends you at the waist until you’re scrambling to your hands and knees sucking Tech into your mouth with a compliant and satisfied hum.

Hunter speaks up, “Turn around.” The trance is broken for the briefest of seconds, and you don't have time to think before they’re turning you so you’re faced with Wrecker’s huge cock and Tech teases your entrance with the tip of his cock. The passive command that Hunter has over all of you gives you goosebumps, his authority even stronger than the ache they share for you.

You sink to your elbows, propping your ass up on display and practically begging for Tech to fuck you, pushing back onto the head of his cock, all while blinking away tears as Wrecker’s size makes your jaw ache. The larger man splays his hand across the back of your head, inciting your thick moans as you work as much of him as you can fit.

Tech’s hips pitch forward and he’s splitting you open in one fluid deep thrust until your ass is nestled against his hips and he grunts at the eager squeeze of your sex around him. You work your hips in sync with your head the drag of his cock along your walls is unlike anything you’ve ever felt. He shifts from both knees to one, allowing a deeper thrust to kiss your cervix with a hiss of pain-laced pleasure. He sets a pace, hips meeting yours in synchronous harmony, and the three of you get lost in each other's pleasure.

You’re briefly aware of Crosshair stroking himself above you and Hunter is still watching with bated breath as you service his brothers, wondering if you’ll let each of them have a turn or if they’ll need to give you a break.

Tech snakes a hand around to press a firm thumb against your clit, and a rush of fluid hits the floor of the cargo space that permeates his senses. The sickly sweet smell of your release coats his tongue and he chokes the head of his cock through his clothes to stop him from cumming before he even gets to touch you.

Your vision is white, and you’re vaguely aware of the spend running down your thighs. When Tech pulls himself free with a grunt you feel the hot ropes of his cum on your back you whine, feeling ashamed that you long for him to finish inside of you. You clench around nothing and sit up to look at Wrecker who brushes a hair out of your face. You kiss him, softly at first, unsure of his comfort with the taste of his precome in your mouth, but he growls and lifts you by your waist, licking into your mouth as he helps you hover over his cock.

You take advantage of the break, wrapping your arms around his neck and taking the weight off your knees in favor of straddling him. Even in his lap, you’re looking up at him. Letting gravity do some of the work, you adjust to let him prod at your entrance and sink slowly onto him, the slick warmth of your pussy a welcome substitute for your pretty mouth.

His chest rumbles beneath yours, groaning as your pussy flutters around him. You kiss him through a grimace, “Take your time.” He whispers against your mouth, low enough you’re not sure the others hear him. Heart swelling at the compassion, you let him slowly rock his hips against you, easing his way into your heat and keeping his hands splayed across your hips to support you.

It’s a slow process, each inch accompanied by breathless and muffled moans followed by kisses and words of endearment. “You can take it mesh’la.” You’re nearly there, body so in tune with his every word you nearly forgot your showmanship.

Crosshair is to your right, one hand gripping the base of his cock as precome dribbles and hangs just out of reach from your eager tongue, muttering something in a language you don’t understand.

You swear you can feel the throb of Wrecker inside of you, and he presses his mouth to your forehead as he pistons his hips slowly angling your body in a way so that he’s moving you along his shaft effortlessly.

Breathless and spent, you let him. Being filled by him is almost overwhelming, each push and pull feeling like he's going to split you in half. He mumbles and groans into your hairline, speaking nonsense in between bitten-off praise. When his fingers find your clit you all but cry, shaking your head in protest, “Please- I can't.”

It's Hunter that answers your cries, “You can.” His voice hoarse with need and restraint, “Be a good girl.” Your brow furrows, in concentration, tossing your head back in near agony at the overstimulation.

Wrecker leans forward and presses his mouth to the column of your throat sucking on the thin skin and leaving a pink welt in his wake. You feel as if you could explode, not able to hear the sounds of your screams as you shudder and writhe under his touch, against his skin and your body falls slack with the overwhelming pleasure.

He lifts his face and you catch a pleased smile, like a loth-wolf with its prey in its teeth. As he throbs and fucks his spend deep into your core. They all see the muted smile tug at the corner of your mouth as Wrecker cums inside you.

He holds you for a moment, kissing over the reddish blemish on your throat and waiting for you to make eye contact with him before slipping free with a tangled whimper from both of you.

Wrecker wraps your legs around him and stands on sturdy legs, you cling to him, resting your cheek on his shoulder hyperaware of the wetness between your thighs. He sets you on Hunter's lap, in your euphoria, he’s lost his pants and sits still in a pair of soft cotton underwear, stark black against his tanned abdomen. It’s now that you notice his tattoo, so familiar with the portion on his face you never notice how the tattoo bleeds across the entire left side of his body.

The lines are both clean and elegant, highlighting the rich flawless tone of his figure. Gorgeously broad shoulders with rippling cords of muscles supporting your cheek as you rest your head lazily and admire him. Placing a lingering and exhausted kiss to the stretch of skin between his shoulder and neck and relishing the warmth of him against your sweat-soaked skin, in the extra cold air of a ship in hyperspace.

He runs his fingers through your hair, scratching lightly and working every line of tension out of you over a few minutes. You distantly hear the sound of the fresher’s shower being turned on. Crosshair is gone, and you fear a pang of regret and pity.

Your breath is coming easier by the time, Hunter carries you towards the sound of the water. Crosshair meets you both under the water’s spray refreshing your senses and soothing the ache of your muscles. You get settled on your feet between them, legs feeling like they’re made of sand, Hunter’s body is pressed tightly to your back, anchoring and steadying you as you greet Crosshair with an inviting kiss.

He welcomes your touch, all but overtaking your space completely as you get pressed between the two of them and lost to the feeling of their bodies against yours, Hunter nestled into the small of your back and Crosshair’s cock leaking and purple with need against your belly.

The steam only adds to the dreamlike quality of it all, tendrils wafting off the ground and highlighting the sight of your ass pressed against him. Hunter doesn’t want to hurt you, but each passing second without fucking you is making him lose his sanity. As if he might just sink into the floor with the weight of his need crushing him entirely.

He nibbles at your earlobe, earning a low whine from your chest. You tilt your head in invitation for his affection, kissing up the column of your neck and tasting the water on your skin tangled with the smell of his brothers. He makes eye contact with Crosshair, and they communicate silently as they spin you around and switch roles.

Hunter licking into your mouth and letting his hand run down to your hip and pull you to him. Expecting the press of Crosshair to your back, you’re startled when you feel the graze of his teeth on your ass. His palms run over the smooth skin, kneading the flesh and watching it move in response to his touch.

Crosshair splays a hand on the small of your back, urging you to lean forward. You glance over your shoulder as he spreads you open and licks a stripe across your asshole. The feeling sends a shiver down your spine, you hear a chuckle as he presses the pad of his thumb into you and watches you with a hungry stare.

Hunter distracts you, kissing you slowly and running his hands soothingly down your back as Crosshair preps you to take him until he’s working two fingers in and out of you and sucking a bruise into your hip to match the one adorning your throat.

You nibble on Hunter’s lip, and bury your hands into his hair, tugging at the root living for the whimpers you get out of him. Crosshair kisses his way up your spine, standing straight, and this time you see them. There’s a small nod of agreement and both of them turn their full attention to you, “You gonna let us fuck you cyar’ika?”

Without hesitation, you nod. You’re not able to explain, how you were able to wrap your arms around Hunter as he hoisted you up his waist and you sank down onto his length. Maybe it was adrenaline, maybe it was the way he demanded your submission through the tone of his voice. No, you thought, it was the way he sounded like he was begging you, he commanded your attention but the way he used his authority had you believing that you, and what he asked of you, was the most important thing in the galaxy. You wanted nothing more than to give him everything he asked for and more.

They give you a moment, Hunter biting his lip as your cunt squeezes him like you haven’t already come three times already. You throw an arm around Crosshair’s neck opening your legs just enough for him to slot himself against you and slowly push into you with the cant of his hips.

He goes incredibly slow, sawing his hips back and forth and relishing in the feeling of Hunter’s cock also nestled deep inside you making you impossibly tighter and the friction of your walls against him.

It feels like too much, pain and pleasure mixing in an enchanting cocktail of stimulation, yet still the familiar tug of an orgasm stirs in your belly. You suppress a sob at the idea of coming for a fourth time around the both of them. They hush you, nuzzling against you and pressing righteous and thankful kisses to your skin, “Look at you, pretty girl.” Crosshair’s voice is so low and drawn out that it takes every last shred of your concentration to hear what he’s saying, “You look so good taking everything we give you.”

The inflection acts like a highlight reel, your body remembering along with your brain the feeling of being the center of attention during your first orgasm. The complexity of your second. The white-hot stretch of Wrecker using and worshipping your body filling you to the brim during the aftershocks of your third. Hunter whispers against the shell of your ear, “Good girl.” Reading the signs of your body and feeling the crest of your orgasm build around him, and pulling you over the edge with his praise.

He presses his forehead to yours as he follows close behind, senses overwhelmed and fighting the bend to his knees as they buckle with the intensity of his climax.

Crosshair pumps into you from behind, lifting one of your legs slightly and changing the angle so he can thrust deeper grinding into you, and urging you to lean more heavily on him to keep the three of you from collapsing as he stills and spills into you.

The three of you pant in silence, ragged breath lost in the noise of the water hitting the metal floor of the fresher, you wordlessly separate. The endorphins running through your bloodstream turn your muscles' pain into a blissful ache you never want to forget.

#polybatch #poly!badbatchxreader #poly x reader #the bad batch x you #the bad batch x reader #tbb hunter #tbb crosshair #the bad batch spoilers #clone force 99 #the bad batch #tbb wrecker #tbb echo #tbb tech #tbb #star wars fanfiction #star wars #mandoa #no clonecest

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springhillspeedyelectrician · 2 months

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slickchickchocolatier · 5 months

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Gurll sunghoon non con pleaseeee 😭😭~

Welcome to the Neighborhood

Warnings: non-con, non-idol! College graduate! sunghoon, college reader, ball slamming, noncon smex, unprotected, fear of unwanted pregnancy, reader takes plan b pill, readers house gets broken into, reader is alone for the weekend, fingering, dubcon, noncon turned dubcon…yeah. Do not read if noncon fics make you uncomfortable. Also not proofread and there is cursing.

"its a nice little neighborhood, isn't it sweetheart?"

your mom and dad step out, leading the way up the driveway to the old home. "it's in need of repairs and renovation, but that wont take too long."

your dad was a gifted contractor that knew his way around a tool belt. the man has built homes for all his life, seeing a project this minor was almost laughable to him. the eye catcher of the property was the heavily wooded surroundings, acres of it. "your mother and i saw this and we just fell in love. here, we can put a nice flower garden for you right here."

you look at the small patch of cleared space that was nicely located across the dining room. with only one neighbor in sight, the rest of the homes were behind the trees, leaving the property secluded with loads of privacy. "its nice." you spoke softly as you admire the entire landscape.

the house was the complete opposite from the land piece, to say the least. it was in dire need of renovation; no doubt your dad will have it good as new in no time.

"since we still have to move everything from the old house, you can stay here and continue to go to school as you housesit. your college is only five minutes away."

you looked confused for only a moment, but was reassured of the safety features in the property after expressing concern of staying back alone.

"the property line has a gate with a security system. the house has a separate alarm, just don't forget to set it."

that week, you and your parents bonded over take out and dining over cardboard boxes. it all seems rustic, but you enjoyed the closeness it brought you three.

......

"well be back in two days, call us if anything happens."

your parents make the long fourteen hour drive to continue the preparations of the old home. you felt a sense of liberation hit as you grew excited of having an entire home all to yourself, regardless that it was a total construction zone.

you spent majority of the day fixing up your floral garden, before calling it a night. with dirt smeared everywhere, you immediately ran the hot water in the shower, not taking a moment of thought to secure the system prior to undressing.

the water felt amazing, and you took your time to enjoy and savor it. lost in the sensation of the soft water drops pouring over your skin, a click of the door is followed by a smooth swing as someone enters the home, all without alerting you.

the intruder swiftly enters, and closes the door. he blends in the shadow and makes his way to the hall, taking his place to hide in the close across your room.

you dry yourself off while humming a tune. once you started to pat dry your hair, you realized...

"Shoot....i should have armed the system before my shower."

quickly, you leave your wet hair plastered onto your skin as you wrap the towel over your body. quickly, you head over ot the front door and enter the code on the security pad. a series of beeps is followed by the intercom system that tells you the system has been armed. in order to open the doors, the code must be added, sealing the protection knowing that whoever breaks in, cannot escape once the police arrives.

you go back to your room, completely unaware that a pair of sharp eyes admired you from a distance. the way your skin glistened from the water, while the strands of your hair surrounded your shoulders made him think of mermaids and sirens. you were so lovely in his eyes...too lovely. he had to have you.

you stood in the center of the bedroom, preparing to discard the towel and change, when suddenly the power goes out. "shit..."

you cling onto the towel as you look around for your phone. fortunately, the peering moonlight peeking through the window was bright enough to light the entire room with a soft glare, making it easy to find your device. "there you are...."

You pick it up and set the flashlight on.

Scanning the area, you hold the light steady as you make your way to the main breaker in the garage. Down the stairs you go, slowly tip toeing while clenching the towel to your chest. You reach the area of the living room; only a simple couch furnished the area as the rest of it remained in tatters and gutted for renovation prep.

A creaky snap coming from the staircase behind startles you, infiltrating a jagged sense of fear rushing through you. A frightening yelp escapes your lips and you drop the phone.

The screen faces down, leaving the light to glow the entire room. Despite the dim lighting present, you didn’t see anything that would have caused the noise. Your breath becomes shaky. As you bend your knees, lowering your weight to pick up your phone, another sound emerges, a footstep.

“Who’s there?!” You shout. Heart pounding through flesh and cartilage as you abandon the act of garnishing the phone. Leaving it behind, you step away until the back end of the couch blocks your path. “Get out…I’ve called the police.”

Steadying your voice, you attempt to instill a confident tone in hopes that the intruder would be fooled by your bluff.

Silence replaces the wooden squeaks of the floorboard, signifying that the uninvited visitor halted their impeding steps. You slowly turn, doing your best to clear the entire room using a combination of night vision and the dim light source twelve feet away. When suddenly:

“Did you now?”

A deep voice responds directly behind. Unfortunately, it wasn’t the only thing that challenged your fibbing words. A pair of strong hands reach around and harshly squeeze your waist, fingers crossing over your bellybutton. A large frame pushes against you from behind, and a pointed nose makes its way to the noon of your neck, shoving against your jawline while a pair of plush lips tenderly kisses the smooth canvas of skin under your chin. “Sooomethiiing tells me you d-i-d-n-t.”

He carries a rhythmic tone as he playfully sang the words to a nursery rhymed beat. It was similar to the singing games children would hum out while playing, in fact it reminded you of “London Bridge is Falling Down.”

“It’s okay baby. I’m not mad at you for lying. It’s kind of cute.”

He antagonizes you with his hallow words as his hands drift upwards, smoothing over the curves of your breasts before gripping the edge of the towel. “No! Stop!” You yell upon feeling the fabric being pulled down, exposing your most vulnerable assets. Your hands shoot up, attempting to cover your breasts while cupping your womanhood. “Shh.” He hushes against your ear as he grabs on to both your wrists. “What are you covering up for? Nervous, baby?”

He kisses your ear and nibbles your lobe. You start to sob hysterically as the man remains hidden behind, his face unidentifiable. The only thing you had go off of was the smooth sound of his deep and alluring voice. Despite feeling uncomfortable and beyond scared, you couldn’t help but internally admit that a small piece of you melted each time he spoke.

“Please…d-don’t-“ your whimpering only fueled his desire. He wanted more.

“‘Don’t’ what? Tell me baby, what is you don’t want me to do?” He licks your neck, tracing the entire outline. “Is it this?”

He immediately follow up his act with a sickening tender kiss atop your collar bone. The warmth from his chin resting along the curve of your inner shoulder eased your discomfort, as much as you hated to acknowledge it. “What about this?” His fingers drag down, rubbing circles on your clit, stimulating regions of flesh that you never knew existed.

“Is it this, baby? Is this what you don’t want?” His lips latch onto your neck as his free hand pinches and plays with your nipple. “Or is it this?” His offensive fingers push your clit inwards and slide down, right inside your cavity with no preparation or warning. He thrusts them in and out a few times, forcing your muscles to secrete a natural lubricant that allowed him to go in and out faster…and faster.

“D-don’t! Stop! Please!”

Your whimpers inherit a subtle moaning sense as the feeling of his fingers violating your body. The stinging burn wears off and a foreign sensation takes place inside you. You melt begging for him to stop, only to hear him scoff handsomely as he notices you rocking your hips back and forth, yearning for him to go in deeper. You’re in disbelief and ashamed. How can your body respond this way when your heart and soul wants him to stop?

“You like that, baby?”

You moan out pitifully as your hands attempt to peel his fingers off, but you were too weak from the spectacle going down in between your legs. Your legs begin to shake as you barely pull his index off, only for him to chuckle against your cheek. “Yeah you do.”

He answers for you in a confident tone but not at all cocky. It was almost loving in the way he was serenading you. “Let’s see how good of a girl you are.”

Your eyes widen, a stark contrast from their squinting form since you were relishing the feeling of being penetrated and massaged from the inside. His sense of gentleness takes a sudden turn, and the fearful tremble returns upon feeling him push you forward, forcing you to bend over the couch. “Fucking perfect, aren’t you?” He breathes out as he grips the undercarriage of your rear end, and cups your breast while pushing himself in to you.

Your hair drapes over your cheeks while his rough hands explore your nude body. An attempt to retract your bent position is suddenly halted as he pushes you back down, gripping the side of your waist. “Tsk-tsk.”

He smacks his teeth as he reaches around your face, gently tapping the tip of your nose with his finger.

The sound of his belt unbuckling triggered you to sob hysterically once more. “Please don’t do this…I-I don’t want this. Please I’ll do anything.”

“Oh I know.” He lures out so sympathetically as he traced the tip of his shaft along your clit. “Believe me baby, I know you’ll do anything…and don’t worry, you will.”

A painful rage of heat and friction takes place as he squeezes himself inside. Your legs shake ferociously as he barely burrows the first inch or two in you. Your body grows limp and collapses against the couch from the pain, it weakened you. His hips push in while his hands lift you back up, forcing you to arch your back as he presses his palms down on your lower back. “Deep breath.” He says through heavy breathing. Pushing the extension of his length in, he goes in more, breaking you. “Almost there…fuck.” He gasps.

Your vaginal walls grow incredibly numb as a result of the shock, and you lay bent over whimpering in pain as his balls kisses your taint, indicating he made it all the way in, to your most dreadful horror.

He pauses for a second. There was no relief, even with him pulling out, the sting from the thought friction of his muscle rubbing outward was just as bad as him entering. With his bulging tip remaining inside, he takes secondary pause as he adjusts his grip around your hips. A punch makes impact inside your gut as he rams back in. It felt as if he went much deeper than before. You scream from the shock of the act occurring, not just from the pain. There was nothing slow about his rhythm, he fucked you relentlessly in a brutal manner, it was animalistic.

A handful of strokes in, and you started to feel different. The pain subsided as did the numbness. There was a new feeling that formulated inside your walls, a tingling sense that felt good. Too good.

Your body bounces forward as he repeats his thrusts, going in faster and harder each time. You bite your lip, trying your best to suppress the pleasurable moan lying dormant in your throat. Don’t let him know that you’re starting to enjoy this. Don’t let him find out. Don’t let him…

Your mouth drools as you absorb each thrust. A snowball effect takes place deep inside you. It was a tightening band of pressure that continuously grew, to the point where it was on the verge of exploding. It felt so good. It sounded so good. The way his thick and lengthy shaft re-enters. The quenching sounds of your fluids mixing together and being shoved inside as he pounds away, slamming the firm sacks and mashing them against your taint, damn near bruising it.

He digs his fingers into your skin and picks up the pace. A hand grips onto your pelvis, and that’s what did you in. “Oh God!”

Hearing your moan in ecstatic pleasure excited him, you could hear it through his voice under heavy and deep gasps. “Yeah? Does it feel good baby.”

A prolonged moan of “oooh” is drawn from you as he maintains his momentum. “Pretty girl loves to be fucked?”

You nod as you pant your moans out. His vigor was taking your breath away, and even though you felt it hard to breathe, it was the most powerful feeling you’ve ever felt; a burst of pleasure setting off like fireworks. Your toes curl in, and your fingers pinch the cushion as he went in deeper, harder, and faster.

“Gonna let me cum inside this sweet little body?”

Your mind pleaded ‘no’, but your body yearned for him to do his bidding.

“I’ll take that as a yes, my fucking girl.”

You yelp mon out a pitiful ‘no’ as a last attempt, knowing that it wasn’t going to change anything. The damage has already been done. He’s been thrusting for nearly an hour and was still going strong, stretching you open and ruining you for any future prospects of sexual mates.

“Make me cum baby…fuck!”

He clenches his jaw and leans forward, resting his forehead over on the back of your head as he commits slow and hard thrusts, aiming to go in as deep as possible. The warmth of his secreting strings staining your walls was all it took to snap that band, and a wave of intense orgasm rushes through your bloodstream and sends a tingling spark to your toes and fingertips. “Oh-oh my God!!”

You scream out each word, arching your back and lifting your rear end, allowing for his top to slide in deeper as he shoots out the remainder of his seed. “Fuck yeah baby, take it all inside.”

You gulp with an open mouth as you sing out a high pitched moan. Never have you felt something so strong and beautiful. Too bad it had to go down this manner, but right now you didn’t care. The way he gave you an aftermath of kisses, and rubbed his fingers against your skin, it was all so…

“Fucking beautiful.”

He compliments you as he admits a tender kiss to your cheek. “Next time, I’ll take you on a date and then fuck you—and take my time doing it.”

Another kiss lands on your neck. “I just couldn’t help myself tonight. I’ll make it up to you.”

He gently wraps the towel over your body before slyly waking out, not even fazed by the alarm going off as he nonchalantly walks through the front door. You rush over and enter the pin to cease the beeping, gaining the sight of his back. From that you could see, he was tall, and rather well built. You’re not entirely sure how you felt from the whole ordeal. A sense of chaos riddle through as you became torn from being forced into an act of intense sex, grew into enjoying it, and facing the risk of unwanted pregnancy as a reminder of him drops down your thigh. ‘Shit…what have I done?’

………..

A couple of weeks pass, and you never mentioned to anyone about the incident. How could you? It may have started against your will, but something about the pleasure he instilled was unforgettable and addicting. It haunted your dreams, to the point where you awoke to soaked panties and a throbbing pulse of yearning desire. You would think back to that night, thinking about how he fucked you so good. So-so good.

In a way, a part of you had wished you did get pregnant from it. But your rational and realistic sensibility caused you to take your allowance and purchase a Plan-B pill. It was the right thing to do, but God…was it so wrong to want a piece of him inside you?

“Sweetheart, come outside for a moment.”

You walk over to your father’s voice, and met with him outside the front door. “Yes, dad?”

“Sweetheart, this is our neighbor, he lives in the house right outside the fence line, across your flower garden.”

You look over and see the man your father presented. He has the most handsome face you’ve ever seen, and was of great masculine stature. He was dressed in business casual, and looked so damn good with his hands tucked into his slack pockets. He flashes a smile, flaring sharp canines that elude a strong sense of vampirism.

“This is Sunghoon, he graduated from college last year, the same one you’re going to now.”

Your father continues his presentation as you struggled to break your sights away. “It’s nice to meet you, my name is y/n.”

You shyly introduce yourself properly, extending a handshake. He gently takes your palm and shakes it, almost playfully. His thumb rubs the back of your hand as he gives his proper introduction. Your eyes shoot up and you nearly fall as you hear his voice. That voice you could never forget.

You faintly gasp as he smirks, giving you a wink and pulling you in slightly while your parents weren’t looking. Whispering, the warmth of his breath grazes your face—

“Miss me baby?”

211 notes · View notes

munson-blurbs · 7 months

Text

Living After Midnight (Failed Rockstar!Eddie x Motel Worker!Reader)

♫ Summary: Eddie lowered his guard during a late night conversation, revealing crucial details about his past. But was it enough for you to reciprocate? (4.3k words)

♫ CW: slowburn, strangers-to-lovers, angst, drug use, parental conflict, poverty, homelessness, brief mention of neglect, brief mention of sex work, eventual smut (18+ only, minors DNI)

♫ Divider credit to @hellfire--cult

chapter four: show me yours, i'll show you mine

If convincing Eddie to take the job wasn’t enough of a struggle, you still had to explain the situation to your parents.

Hi Mom and Dad, I invited a guest to help fix up the motel. The same one who stole a blanket–but don’t worry, I got it back. Oh, and he’ll be staying here for free.

They were understandably taken aback by your decision, especially without consulting them first, but you’d mustered up a strong argument: Eddie was young, he was easy to get along with, and he showed a basic sense of personal responsibility. Not to mention that the place could certainly use the repairs; peeling wallpaper was just the tip of the iceberg. Lightbulbs needed to be replaced, carpets needed to be scrubbed, and the outside of the building desperately needed to be power washed.

“Plus, summer break doesn’t start for another few weeks,” you hastily added. “We won’t need to worry about renting out Eddie’s room until then.”

Mom arched an eyebrow at the newfound ascription—not room four, but Eddie’s room—but said nothing, only looking at your father for his seal of approval.

He breathed out, long and low, trying to do the calculations in his head. Your heart flip-flopped when his gaze dropped to the ground, his signature move when he was about to tell you no.

“If he doesn’t help out, he can’t afford to stay here anyway. It’s not like we’re losing money if he keeps the room for a bit.” You winced at the slight whine in your voice, the opposite of the infallible exterior you’d wanted to present.

Dad laughed, not unkindly, but belittlement panged in your chest nonetheless. “Except for the water, air conditioning, and electricity he uses,” he pointed out, ticking off each item on his fingers. “Unless he plans to only sit in the dark, sweat, and never shower.” He sighed as unmistakable disappointment weaved into your eyes and filled them with tears.

Now you’d have to tell Eddie that the offer was off the table, that he was shit out of luck, that you’d let him down. You never should’ve opened your big mouth in the first place. Captain Save-the-World, except you only ever made things worse. If you wore a cape, it would get snagged on tree branches each time you tried to fly.

“You have a good heart,” Mom spoke up, trying to nurse your wounded feelings, “but kindness doesn’t pay the bills.” She glanced at Dad again, her mouth set in a straight line. “Maybe we can discuss this further.”

You fought to ignore the hope that bloomed from her words, but the corners of your mouth turned upwards before you could rein it in. “Thank you,” you murmured, offering them both a grateful smile.

People called you a ‘bleeding heart,’ teasing you about your constant attempts to solve problems beyond a reasonable scope. At last year’s Thanksgiving dinner, your uncle had informed you—unprompted—that he would never vote for you for President because “you’d just give all my money to the poor.”

While your parents were more realistic with their goals than you were, they did their best to encourage your compassionate spirit; there was no doubt that you got your sense of morality from them. After deliberating on Eddie’s fate for a few hours, they had finally relented—with one stipulation.

“Your mother and I are not going to supervise him, so he’ll have to work night shifts with you,” Dad had said sternly.

“Really?” You clapped your hands in celebration. “Thank you! I mean, um, Eddie thanks you.”

Dad gave your shoulders a quick squeeze; it was his version of you’re welcome. “Yeah, well.” He played it cool, keeping his tone breezy. “It’ll be good practice for when you take over the place.”

You’d nodded in response, your insides twisting in a clashing mix of excitement and shame. Eddie wouldn’t have to live on the street, but it required you to continue lying to your parents.

I’ll tell them the truth once Eddie finds a real job and gets his own place. I can only handle one crisis at a time.

That was how you’d found yourself spending your Tuesday evening with Eddie Munson. The motel was otherwise empty, save for your parents, a middle-aged trucker in room 7, and Phyllis in her usual digs.

You and Dad had spent the end of his shift covering the floor with giant flimsy drop cloths. They hadn’t been used in years, evidenced by the thin layer of dust that coated them when you’d dug them out from the back of the supply closet. You’d tried your best to shake it all off but instead sent yourself into a sneezing fit.

Eddie sauntered into the lobby at a quarter after ten. Gray sweatpants sagged at his waist, the drawstring noticeably missing from the elastic band, and his white cotton undershirt had a tan stain that spread across his left pec.

“Coffee,” he explained with a shrug, rolling a hair tie off of his wrist and pulling his curls into a messy bun at the nape of his neck. He looked at you blankly and waited for you to instruct him, but you had already dove into your schoolwork. “Um, is there a ladder? Tools?” He pursed his lips and scanned the room with indifference.

“Oh! Right, yeah.” You could have smacked yourself for not having everything set up for him. “We don’t have a ladder per se, but this step stool should work fine.” You pulled it out from behind the desk along with a scoring tool, a spray bottle filled with a vinegar and water solution, and a putty knife. “I also grabbed the clock radio from my room if you wanted to listen to some music. Might help pass the time.”

Eddie nodded, watching carefully as you switched the radio on and tuned the dial to a Top 40 station. He shook his head the moment the electric beat of Haddaway’s “What is Love” played through the tinny speakers.

“Absolutely not,” he said with a scoff, dropping the supplies right where he stood, footsteps heavy even with the cloth underneath him. Without another word, he spun the knob past the static until the sound of an electric guitar crackled through. He bobbed his head a few times, finding the rhythm. “This’ll do.”

“Not a Eurodance fan?”

His back was turned to you as he returned to the task at hand which left him unable to see the sarcastic smirk you sported. “Fuck no.” He stepped up on the tool and began cutting into the old wallpaper, puffing out an irritated laugh. “I can’t believe—scratch—you voluntarily—scratch—listen to that–scratch–shit.” His biceps flexed with each flick of the blade in a consistent rhythm.

Drumming your fingernails on the desk, you twirled your pen in your free hand as you reread your own handwriting. You’d stayed at the library and filled notebook pages with bullet points about early childhood development until a squirrely librarian kicked you out at closing time. The choppy sentence fragments begged to be fleshed out into a fully-formed essay, but you couldn’t bring yourself to focus.

Write words. Make edits. Add a comma. Do something, anything, dammit.

Almost an hour passed without you making an iota of progress on your paper. The words swam on the page until they just looked like inky squiggles with no real meaning, your brain blank as if you’d never written anything in your life. Cool air tickled your nose as you exhaled through your lips. Why couldn’t you just concentrate?

“It’s this music,” you muttered to yourself, too low for your company to hear. Your temples throbbed with frustration, and you reached over and snapped back to the previous station.

Eddie’s head whipped around at the sudden change, frowning when he heard pop music instead of the metal that had just been playing. “Seriously?” He leaned one hand on the wall and threw the other up in exasperation.

“Yes, seriously,” you bit back, teeth clenched in annoyance. “I can’t focus on my writing with that on.”

Eddie grumbled something unintelligible but went back to work, the scratching serving as a strange backdrop to the song.

Janet Jackson faded out to a too-chipper deejay. “You folks know what time it is!” His voice reminded you of old-school toothpaste commercials, over-exaggerated and unnaturally polished. “That’s right; it’s time for Rad or Retch—where I play a song from a new artist, and you call in and let me know whether you think it’s rad or if it makes you wanna retch!”

Eddie rolled his eyes, adding an exasperated “Jesus H. Christ,” under his breath.

“This one’s called ‘Watch Me Leave’ by Death’s Echo, a grunge group from—”

The announcement came to an abrupt end as Eddie nearly leaped from the stool to the desk and yanked the plug out of its socket. The two-pronged head hit the floor with a soft thud.

“Hey!” Your eyes widened in confusion and then disbelief, flickering over to where he stood. You expected him to wear a scowl that matched your own; instead, he looked like he’d just taken a knife to the gut, and you took a step back. “Whoa, you okay?”

Eddie tensed the moment he detected your sympathetic tone, shoulders pinched and jaw rigid. “‘M fine.” He pressed the heel of his left hand atop his right knuckles until they cracked. “Sorry.” He bent down and gently plugged the cord back into the wall, but you immediately flicked the power button to the off-position.

It was silent for a full minute, save for the scorer against the wall and the scratch of pen on paper. When Eddie finally spoke, his voice was so soft that you barely heard it.

“That was my band.”

Confusion creased your brows. You set down your pen and stole a glance at him. His body remained facing the wall, but he was no longer working, hands lamely at his sides. “What?”

“Death’s Echo was, uh,” he shook a rogue curl from his eyes, “that was my band.”

“Oh.” Awkwardness seeped into the room and filled every crevice as you wracked your brain for a suitable response. “But…not anymore?”

Eddie clicked his tongue. “Nope.” The p sound popped softly as though signaling the discussion’s end, but there was a pregnant pause before he started removing the wallpaper again.

“Why not?” The question sprang from your tongue, curiosity getting the best of you.

A hesitant chuckle accompanied his sigh. “I thought you didn't make small talk with strangers.” He climbed back on the step stool and ripped off a strip of paper.

“I thought we weren’t strangers anymore,” you quipped back, not missing the smile that ghosted his lips.

“Fair enough.” Eddie conceded easily, not at all angry to be proven wrong. He bit the inside of his cheek and stared up at the yellow-tinged lighting overhead before slicing into the wallpaper. “Sometimes you think you want something, but it turns out to be a steaming pile of horseshit.” The last word was punctuated by a grunt, and the last panel of wallpaper fluttered to the ground. “That’s the music industry in a nutshell.”

You nodded in agreement despite an obvious lack of knowledge.

“They sign your band,” he continued, aiming the spray bottle nozzle at the wall and pulling the trigger, “and you think it’s because they like you. Or at least your music, your sound, whatever.” He wrinkled his nose as he got an unexpected whiff of the vinegar solution’s pungency. “But you’re really just a front for whatever they want to sell. Which, apparently, is grunge.”

You had too many questions. They probably referred to record producers or agents or some other bigwigs, you surmised, but what did they do that made Eddie so cynical?

That was far too loaded to ask, at least in that moment, so you opted for a more humorous follow-up. “You mean it wasn’t all sex, drugs, and rock ‘n roll?” you joked, but Eddie didn’t share in your lightheartedness.

“At the beginning, when we first got signed, yeah.” His brown eyes exuded wistfulness, remembrance of better times. He blinked twice and snapped himself out of it. “We put out a few albums that didn’t completely flop, I guess. And we were the opening act on a couple of tours. Got a good chunk of money in the bank.”

That explained the Calvin Klein underwear he was wearing on that first night. You capped your pen and leaned in, trying not to be overly inquisitive but unable to contain yourself. “So…what happened?” What led you here?

“We get called into a meeting, and we’re all thinking that the label’s gonna tell us we’re headlining, right? Maybe not, like, The Garden, but bigger venues than we usually played. But, uh…” he trailed off and rubbed the tip of his nose with an open palm, “it was an ultimatum: shift from metal to grunge, or get dropped.”

You listened intently as Eddie relayed the ordeal. The label executives had cited the increasing popularity of Nirvana and Pearl Jam along with decreasing interest in heavy metal bands. “Cobain’s selling; Ozzy isn’t,” they’d explained. If Death’s Echo wanted to play to packed arenas and have their music on mainstream radio, they had to adapt to the times.

“I told them we weren’t sellouts and to kiss my ass,” Eddie said to you, huffing out an annoyed breath. “But the rest of the band didn’t give a shit about that; if those suits told them to jump, they’d say ‘how high.’ So, I quit and waited for them to come crawling back.”

He didn’t elaborate after that. He didn’t need to. Because if they’d done as Eddie had hoped, he wouldn’t be performing manual labor just to live in a struggling motel, basking in the gloominess that he wore like a second skin.

“If you could go back and do it differently, would you?” You grimaced at your own intrusiveness. “Sorry, that was—”

“It’s fine.” Eddie didn’t give an answer right away, his teeth grating against his lower lip. “Y’know, I’d like to say no, but losing your record deal, your apartment, your girlfriend, your so-called ‘friends,’ and every nice thing you own can make a guy kinda cynical.”

Girlfriend?

It was far from the most dire item on that list, but it needled at you. Maybe it was the mental image of Eddie watching everything get taken from him and then adding heartbreak on top of it all.

“How about you?”

His voice yanked you from your thoughts and had your heart in your throat. “Huh?”

“You. Your whole deal.” He gestured at you with the scraper. “Why you’re always doing homework like a little nerd.” You couldn't detect a note of taunting in his teasing, only playfulness, just as it had been that very first night.

You scowled for only a second before a smile broke through. “Don’t you have wallpaper to remove?”

Eddie snorted out a laugh. “I see how it is: when it’s my shit, I’m free to talk. But when it’s your shit, I’m a lowly employee.” He held up both hands in mock surrender. “My deepest apologies, Heiress.”

You didn’t bother to argue, choosing instead to pivot to a new subject altogether. “How long does this take, anyway?” Walking out from behind the desk to inspect his work, you ran your finger down the wall. Once you got past the stench of vinegar, he was actually doing a pretty good job.

“You think you could do better?” He saw your gentle ribbing and upped the ante, holding out the putty scraper as if saying, be my guest.

Plucking it from his grasp, you smirked and chose a spot right at eye level. Challenge accepted.

Though the glue had softened considerably, removing it still required decent muscle. You put your bodyweight into it and pushed through the resistance, but you only managed to pull off a little bit.

You heard Eddie laugh through his nose as he stood behind you, watching you struggle. “Harder than it looks, huh?” He ignored your middle finger and stepped a half-inch closer. “Let me help.”

One calloused hand dwarfed yours, his fingers wrapping around where your fist held the scraper. The other found purchase on the bicep of your free arm where your T-shirt’s cuff met skin, stabilizing without entrapping you. You could easily get out of his grasp if you wanted.

You stayed there.

He tightened his grip around yours and made short, downward strokes, admittedly taking off far more glue than you had. “There ya go,” he murmured. His breath was warm on your neck, gooseflesh rising when he spoke. You hoped he wouldn’t notice. “Just like that.”

Butterflies beat their wings in your stomach, a result of the unexpected proximity compounded by an unmet need for connection that starkly contrasted the night shift’s normal solitude. A loose tendril of his hair tickled against your ear, and the realization of how close your bodies actually were shattered whatever spell had been cast.

Eddie pulled away quickly, the air cooling where his hand once rested. Did he also feel that sudden loss of contact, or was it all in your head?

With a shaky breath, you stepped aside and silently returned the tool to him. “Should probably leave this to the expert,” you muttered, forcing nervous laughter. “I have to get back to writing anyway.”

His eyes bored into you as you walked back to the desk, but neither of you said another word. You glanced over at him every so often, noting the perspiration dampening his collar and under his arms as he toiled away at the glue and wished you had a water bottle to offer him.

Maybe next time.

You got halfway through the first body paragraph when Eddie spoke again.

“You’re really not gonna talk?”

You looked up to see him swipe his forearm along his brows as he shot you a tired grin.

“We just had a whole conversation,” you pointed out, returning your attention to your essay.

“About me,” he said. He wiped his palms on his pants, leaving behind a sweaty print, and traipsed over to you. “I mean, every time I see you, you’re either going to school or coming back from school or doing work for school…”

You shrugged, no big deal. “Okay, yeah, I go to school.”

“For what?”

Shit. “Hospitality and hotel management.”

“Really.” Eddie leaned over and snatched up your paper. You reached out to grab it back, but it was too late. The bridge of his nose scrunched as he read the opening paragraph to himself. “Doesn’t look like hospitality to me.” Amusement raised his brows. “Care to explain?”

It was the last thing you wanted to do, but you felt strangely obligated. He’d confided in you, so you should at least moderately indulge him.

“Fine,” you relented, “I’m studying psychology.” That might have been the first time you’d ever said those words aloud in the motel lobby; it was oddly freeing.

Eddie nodded and continued to scan the paper. “You wanna be a shrink?”

“Social worker.”

He let out a low whistle. “That’s a tough gig. Especially if you’re working with kids.” He shook the essay pages for emphasis.

“Yeah. I know.”

“Right.” He shoved one hand in his pants pocket. “What made you decide to be a social worker?”

You breathed out a laugh. “You want the easy answer or the real one?”

He didn’t hesitate before answering. “Real one. Always.” He returned your essay and rested his un-pocketed hand on the desk. Inquiring eyes beckoned you to continue.

With less trepidation than you’d anticipated, you tell him the story of that fateful day in the summer of 1987, just two years after you’d graduated from high school.

You were still working the afternoon shift, and summer break brought its usual influx of guests. People came and went in blurs of luggage, but there was one particular patron who had made her presence known.

“Hi!”

You peered over the desk to find the source of the lively greeting. A young girl, no older than five, stared back at you, syrupy grape stickiness surrounding her lips. The cause was most likely a popsicle, as evidenced by the purple stained stick clenched in her right hand.

“Um, hi,” you said with a smile that was, for the first time in a long while, not encased in customer service insincerity. “What’s your name?” And where did you come from?

Unfazed by your bewilderment, she introduced herself as Izzy and asked you if you wanted to play. “We just have to stay here, or else my mommy will get mad,” she explained with urgency.

You nodded slowly, sorting through the information without raising any alarm. “And where is your mommy?”

Izzy’s hazel eyes darted back towards the hallway. “In our room. She’s with a friend so I can’t go in.” She dropped her voice to what she considered a whisper, but it was still clear as day. “Her friend is a boy.”

Your stomach turned. Of course. Instead of watching her child, this mother was probably shooting up with her boyfriend of the week.

“I can’t play right now, but you can sit here with me until your mommy and her friend come back out,” you said. “I have paper and pens if you wanna draw.”

This satisfied her, and she plopped down on the floor and patted the spot next to her. That day hadn’t been particularly hectic, so you obliged and sat.

“What’re you gonna draw?” Izzy asked, reaching for a blue pen. You didn’t have time to answer before she proudly announced, “I’m gonna draw a flower. Do you like flowers?”

“Mhm.”

Izzy smiled as she surrounded a circle with swirling loops. “You can draw a flower, too. Maybe a rose. Or a sunflower!”

Her excitement at the latter option was all you needed. “Sunflower it is, Miss Izzy.” You drew a circle of your own and filled it with a cross-hatched pattern, curating pointed-tipped petals around it.

“D’you have crayons?” she asked, not looking up from her own flower.

You put down your pen and offered a pitying frown. “No, I’m sorry.”

“S’okay. You should get some, though. ‘Cause you can draw prettier flowers with crayons.”

The two of you stayed on the floor for ten minutes. All the while, she quizzed you on your favorite color, animal, food, and TV show. She was halfway through a heated explanation of why Friend Bear was superior to Share Bear when a frantic voice called out her name.

“Mommy!” Izzy practically flew into her mother’s arms. You watched as the woman’s entire body sagged in relief, pulling her daughter in close. A man trailed behind her, discreetly zipping up his fly and walking out the front door.

“Izzy, I told you to sit in the hall and eat your ice pop,” her mom gently scolded, words muffled by her lips being pressed to Izzy’s scalp.

Izzy scrunched her nose in confusion. “But I finished it.” She pointed at the empty stick, now on the ground where she’d been sitting, as proof. In true childlike fashion, she jumped to a new topic without waiting for the first conversation to conclude. “Mommy, you wanna see what I drawed?”

“Of course, baby.” She easily feigned excitement as Izzy presented her with a series of scribbles that were meant to be various flowers, people, and farm animals. “Wow! I think you’re gonna be an artist one day.”

The little girl continued chatting, blissfully unaware of the panic she’d inadvertently caused. Her mom allowed herself to look away for just a moment to glance at you, mouthing a tiny “thank you” and blinking her tear-filled eyes.

“And…I don’t know,” you lamely supplied as you wrapped up the story. “I guess I realized that I had all of these assumptions, this sort of preconceived notion that this woman was a deadbeat parent, but she obviously loved Izzy more than anything.” You picked at your thumbnail nervously. “No one should have to sell their body for money just to survive. She deserved better than that.”

Eddie stayed quiet for a moment, absorbing everything you’d thrown at him. “And you wanted to help her,” he finally said.

“Yeah.” You thought back to the way her gaze simultaneously held gratitude and guilt. Her daughter was safe, but she knew that this was not the final time she’d be in this predicament.

The experience had awakened a realization in you: working at the motel was never your dream, but it kept a roof over your head and food in your belly. You weren’t left to navigate the world on your own. Independence was a privilege, not a mandate.

“For what it’s worth,” Eddie broke in, “I think you’ll be a great social worker someday.” He rapped his knuckles on the desk twice and slipped back to the awaiting task; despite insisting that you talked to him while he worked, he hadn’t touched any of the tools while you spoke.

Your smile was a thank you, and you tuned the radio back to the metal station Eddie had chosen earlier. He didn’t say anything else, but you noted the subtle tap of his toe against the drop cloth.

Eddie worked for a few more hours until he’d stripped the wall of all paper and glue. “All right,” he said, balancing the step stool on two fingers. Sleepiness softened his own smile, all lips and no teeth. “Let me know when the new wallpaper comes in. You, uh, know where I live.”

“Will do.” Your thumb absently grazed against the words you’d just written, smudging them. You rubbed at the black ink seeping into your skin, silently chastising your own carelessness. “Good night, Eddie.”

He stretched and scratched at the U-neck of his collar, exposing a sliver of chest hair.

“Sweet dreams, Heiress.”

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402 notes · View notes

m-jelly · 8 months

Text

Thinking about bad boy Levi in his early 20s. He's part of a gang that helps people and is the start of his mafia/gang life I've written a lot about.

Levi's a mechanic most of the time and then protects people behind the scenes. Levi has tattoos and rides a motorbike. He's very protective and kind.

Levi falls for you and is super smitten. He doesn't have much money early years of your relationship so you both have such a sweet relationship that involve making things for each other and making the most of what you have.

You'll have a spot on the roof of your flats to watch the stars. You'll build a fort to keep warm when the heating goes out. You share showers and baths to save money. You use candles and battery powered fairy lights when the power goes out.

Levi makes you a ring in his workshop. He goes into a park and sneakily cuts flowers to get you a bouquet.

You are incredibly good with money and food. You do odd jobs and buy the food going out of stock, or the sell by date is close and you get off cuts of meat. You prepare and plan all meals so Levi gets plenty of food and energy to work hard.

You sew clothes that have gotten ripped or damaged. You go to charity shops and buy nice clothes for Levi and you repair and change them to make them look better.

The flat is always filled with laughter and love. You and Levi adore each other with everything you have. When Levi's group starts to bring in a lot of money you don't let it change you both. You remember your humble beginnings and you help others with your new found money.

However, Levi does spoil you when he can when he has a lot of money. He just wants to.

#levi ackerman #levi #aot levi #snk levi #levi x you #levi x y/n #levi x reader #levi thoughts #levi aot #levi attack on titan #levi x yn #levi ackerman aot #levi ackerman attack on titan #levi ackerman x you #levi ackerman x y/n #levi ackerman x reader #jelly fanfics

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lilspacewolfie · 7 months

Text

Papas Caring For Hospitalized Reader

Spawned from pure self-indulgence. I've been through more hospital visits these last four weeks than I have my entire life. I want someone to bundle me up and make my hand better. I hate hospitals and operations *sobs*. Enjoy nonetheless!

Content: 2k words, Papas x gn!reader, SFW, bullet-pointed format, mentions of hospitals, needles (only mentioned), mention of general anaesthetic, angst, hurt/comfort, anxiety, lots of sweetness, you're getting pampered, no beta we die like nihil!)

This man will do everything in his power to make sure you’re looked after and relaxed.

Tea for days! He will try different flavours until he finds the one you like.

Dives headfirst into deep research as to which herbs help your injury heal, as well as calm your nerves. He knows his plants well, but he wants to know more. You deserve the best of the best.

Insists on going with you for infirmary visits even when you tell him you’re fine (you’re not really, but you just don't want him to worry.)

He will anyway.

Chronic worrier, especially given his age.

He takes his health VERY seriously, yours too! The Ministry has the best medical care around.

If you need a wound cleaned, stitches taken out, or other medicines, it's the place to get it.

Primo will be with you as much as he’s able to, even if that means he’s sitting for a long time while you’re being treated.

When you’re free and discharged—bandaged, bruised and probably feeling sore, he’ll take you back to his room for some TLC.

Will have a bath or shower with you, (in his jungle of a washroom), depending on what you prefer and smother you with all your favourite scents.

He’s a deeply caring individual and shows it openly.

Will speak gently to you, whisper sweetly and ensure you’re not overstimulated more than you have been.

“Shh, I know. I know amore. It’ll be over soon, just breathe for me.”

He knows how much you hate hospital/doctor visits.

You can squeeze his hand if you want.

If you need space for a bit after everything, he’ll gladly give it.

If not, prepare to receive a lot of kisses, especially on your forehead (a lot of them, like… SO many.)

He will help you bathe if you’re unable to, running a foaming washcloth over your skin carefully.

Let him wash your hair! It’s one of the things he adores doing for you!

Once you’re washed, warm and feeling more relaxed it’s time for more tea in bed with a snack if you want one!

He insists. Even if you don't feel like eating, try to drink something for him <3

“It will help you feel good and relax, Il mio fiore.” (My flower)

Fluids are important (wink-wonk).

Reminds you to take your meds like clockwork (always with tea and water)

You’re his petalo (petal) and he loves you dearly.

Will wrap you up in the mountain of blankets and faux furs he has on his lush bed. He’s old, he feels the cold more than others. At least he has you to keep him warm.

Secondo hates when you’re hurt/hurting in any capacity.

Even if it's something minor, he’ll worry about it to the point where he loses sleep over it.

He’s a big, brooding mother hen.

The Emeritus curse of being a chronic worrier doesn’t stop at Primo.

This man wants you to be okay and it kills him when you’re not.

Will also go with you to the infirmary and stay with you.

The staff always find him a little intimidating, but they know he’s just worried sick. He’s kind to everyone, but honestly, he won't speak much unless spoken to.

“Are you alright, mio tesoro?” Is what he mainly asks, his voice so low it's close to a rumble.

Tries his best to make you feel relaxed.

Will make really, god-awful dad jokes that are so bad you do laugh.

He will quietly hold your hand the entire time, rubbing his bare fingers over our knuckles.

You rarely see him remove his gloves in public, but he HAS to be touching you. He insists.

He’s had enough knocks and breaks in his life to know how fragile the human body can be, but also how incredible it is at self-repair.

That doesn’t mean he views you as a fragile thing that needs to be wrapped in wool, but he loves you so deeply he would if you let him.

He admires your strength and resolve as you put up with being poked and prodded (by needles or with doctors.)

Once you’re released from care, good luck getting him to be anywhere less than within touching distance.

You’re getting a kiss. Lots of them. Mostly chaste and gentle.

You can tell it's because he worries about hurting you.

He relaxes a bit more when you kiss him HARD and bite at his bottom lip.

Will also help you bathe and shower. Again, touching distance. Just let him be near you for his own sanity.

Though he wouldn’t be upset if you need some space. He’s very understanding if you’re overstimulated.

Will linger outside the door in case you need anything.

Let him dry you off and dress you in comfortable clothes. He can see you that way.

He can see you’re still with him and that you’re safe.

He’ll touch you slowly, running his large hands over your skin.

Will spoon you once you’re in bed or let you curl into him.

He’ll bury his nose in your hair, breathe you in and say a wordless prayer to Lucifer that you recover quickly.

“Ti amo.” You hear him whisper as he presses a kiss to your forehead and strokes your hair.

Only falls asleep once he’s sure you have, holding you close the entire night.

Terzo. Oh, Terzo.

Emeritus curse of being a chronic worrier? Check. Turn it up to eleven.

Unlike Secondo, Terzo is open with his worries.

He’s a fair mix of his brothers, both gentle and occasionally stoic given the shape you’re in.

If it's something minor, he’ll try to play it off with a bit of humour like he tends to do. He’ll make bad jokes (oh ho, you thought Secondo’s were bad just wait for this.)

If it’s something you need an operation for, this man will be silently out of his mind. *insert any internally screaming gif here*

He takes pride in his appearance, but you’ll start to notice cracks—dishevelled hair, a button not done up or a smudge of his paint.

It would worry you more if he didn’t have Omega or one of his brothers to make sure he’s drinking and eating regularly.

Tries to hide his stress. Fails. Rinse and repeat.

He doesn’t want you to worry about him, you’re the one in pain, about to be put under and Lucifer… What's he going to do if something happens?

He loves you. Adores you. You’re his life.

He knows how much you hate being stuck in hospitals and it pains him to see you stressed. The last thing he wants to do is add to that, so he’ll play it cool.

When you go in he’s pacing the halls.

Rest assured, the healthcare of the Ministry has you in safe hands.

It puts Terzo at ease, but don't expect him to leave your side when everything is over. He will sit at your bedside, kiss your knuckles and stroke your hair.

Let him touch you. Just let him.

He’s been through so much heartache in his life.

Will kiss each of your fingers and whisper sweet words to you.

“You’ll be okay, vita mia. Cuore mio. I’m here. I’m with you.” (My life. My heart.)

Maybe he’ll hum some songs too.

You’re his everything.

Once you’re ready and well enough to leave, you’re getting pampered to hell and back. This man worships the ground you walk on.

Whatever you want it's not too much. A bath? A shower? Just to get into bed and fall asleep? Terzo’s right there with you.

Dinner in his massive, plush bed with your favourite movie.

When you’re ready to sleep he’ll plaster himself to you. He would crawl inside your skin if he could.

Fitful sleeper. Wakes up a few times just to make sure you’re ok.

Eventually sleeps soundly once you kiss his worries away.

Stroke his hair. He’s a sucker for that!

*Copia is not Nihil’s son in my verses/AUs unless explicitly stated.*

He’s learned bad habits from the Papas it seems.

Worrier. Yes, it's chronic. Seriously, are we sure this isn’t like the flu?

Paces a lot.

Good luck getting him to sit still.

If he's not pacing, he’s as close to you as physics will allow.

Lots of touching. Will rest his head by your hip if he’s tired from all that pacing.

Perfect opportunity to run your fingers through his hair.

He’ll hold your hands and kiss your knuckles.

All that stress tires him out.

“Mi dispiace, amore. Non sto aiutando,” he’ll whisper brokenly. (I'm sorry, amore. I'm not helping.)

You two probably end up curled up on the bed of the infirmary together if you have been waiting a while. A nap won't hurt.

You kiss slowly as you get comfortable, limbs tangled.

The angle is a bit awkward.

The sleep helps but he’s still going to be stressed when he wakes up.

Will get you anything you need. A drink or food, perhaps one of the really nice yogurts they do at the visitor's cantine.

Will ask the nurses and doctors SO many questions. He likes to be informed. Gets stressed if anything is unclear.

Maybe he should be in this infirmary bed and not you.

Prepare to be coddled once you’re discharged.

You’re both taking a long, hot bath or shower.

He wants to wash you down so he can see you and make sure you’re ok. Lots of tender kisses to your skin.

Ends up with you in his arms under the hot water just swaying together.

You’re wearing his clothes. No, not just because he likes how they look on you but because they’re baggy and won't irritate your skin *cough*. Sure Copia.

He’ll order your favourite food and you can watch a movie in his room together.

Will mother hen you, constantly ask if you need anything, and make sure your water glass is full.

He probably will cry. It’s just been so much.

You can cry together if you want. You both understand.

Also like clockwork when it comes to medication (if you’re taking any.)

Curls up in bed with you. You both sleep like the dead after such a long, stressful day.

Breakfast in bed when you wake up.

*Copia is not Nihil’s son in my verses/AUs unless explicitly stated.*

Copia might not be of the Emeritus blood, but unholy shit does the curse of being a chronic worrier catch like wildfire.

He’s Papa now he’s gotta be strong.

Will put on a brave face. But underneath he’s still the cardinal he was years back.

He’ll worry and fret and pace. There's no changing some things.

While he’s outwardly less anxious, this poor man has so much weighing on his shoulders after he took over to front the band.

Inwardly it's chaos.

His hair is never quite as smoothed back as it normally is and his paint is a touch worn.

There are some things you can't change about a man. Not really.

Prepare to be coddled, again. The mother hen has never left the coop.

He’s going to pamper you when he gets you back to his room. Of course, you’re staying with him, he’s not letting you go.

So. Many. Kisses.

This man loves kissing you. He adores you so.

A bath in his spacious tub is just what the doctor ordered. You lay against him and relax in the dim with only the light of candles.

Finally lets himself cry.

You shush him, kiss him and remind him that you love him and that you’re ok.

He loves you so much he can't even express it. The thought of losing you kills him.

He tries to push your hands away when you take a cloth to his paint. You’re the one who's been hurt and poked at all day, he’s supposed to be caring for you!

Eventually relents because you both know you need this.

More kisses and mutual washing. You love seeing how his skin pinkens across his cheek, arms and back. It brings out the pretty freckles all over his body.

When you both get into bed, tangled up again, Copia will whisper how much he loves you until he’s too tired to talk anymore.

You both sleep like the dead.

masterlist ⛧ Ao3

#ghost #the band ghost #papa emeritus i #primo #papa emeritus i x reader #primo x reader #papa emeritus ii x reader #papa emeritus ii #secondo #secondo x reader #papa emeritus iii #terzo #papa emeritus iii x reader #terzo x reader #cardinal copia #papa emeritus iv #cardinal copia x reader #papa emeritus iv x reader #gender neutral reader

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