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pin-k-ink · 1 month

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ROUTINE ⋆✦⋆ miya osamu

synopsis ➸ you thought things would be the same after six years away from Osamu, but surprise—turns out, distance really does make the heart grow fonder

tags ➸ kinda dub-con, best friends to lovers, sexual tension, making out, cunnilingus, blowjob, face-fucking, come-eating, dom!samu, unprotected sex, fingering, nipple play, dirty talk, praise kink, dry humping, breeding kink,

wc ➸ 6.5k

"Damn, I was wondering when you'd finally roll up," you teased as Osamu's car pulled up to the curb outside arrivals. "I was about to have them page you over the intercom like a lost child or something."

He shot you a flat look as you chuckled, sliding into the passenger seat with a dramatic flourish. "Yeah, well, maybe I would've been here sooner if a certain someone hadn't decided to bring half her apartment along for the trip."

You gasped in mock outrage, playfully swatting his arm as Osamu pulled away from the curb. "My luggage is perfectly reasonable, Mr. Smart Mouth! Not all of us can be professional minimalists, you know."

Osamu snorted at that, lips twitching upwards ever so slightly in that subtle way you'd always adored. "Pretty sure there's minimalist and then there's whatever hoarding problem you've got going on back there."

You stuck your tongue out at him childishly before both of you dissolved into familiar laughter - any last remaining tension from the years apart melting away in an instant. This was simply how it always was between you and your oldest friend, trading playful jabs and insults like two unruly siblings. The ease of simply being yourselves around each other again filled you with profound comfort and nostalgia.

"God, I missed this so freakin' much," you admitted once the laughter subsided, reaching over to briefly squeeze his bicep affectionately. "The whole sarcastic smart-ass battle of wits, I mean. None of my other friends back home could keep up quite like you."

Osamu hummed, the barest hint of a smirk playing over his features as he merged onto the highway. "You say that like it's a good thing, dork. Pretty sure half the gray hairs I'm rocking now are from all the stress of dealing with your particular brand of chaos all those years."

You scoffed dramatically. "Pleaaaase, I single-handedly kept you from being an even bigger stick in the mud growing up. You're welcome for helping cultivate your sparkling personality, sir."

That earned you an eye roll, but you didn't miss the undeniable warmth flickering in the depths of Osamu's intense stare every time he snuck a glance your way. Like he was just as pleased at falling back into this familiar banter as you were.

The rest of the drive passed in a similar fashion - full of laughing recollections of old haunts long abandoned and inside jokes so deeply embedded you were the only two people left who understood them anymore. Whenever a lull arose, one of you would almost immediately find some new embarrassing anecdote to poke fun at the other over, dragging yourselves into another spiral of cackling wisecracks until you could scarcely breathe.

It was only as Osamu navigated his car through your new neighborhood's winding streets that the conversation lulled more naturally. A comfortable quiet blanketed over you both, replete with unspoken depths of affection and certainty built up over literal decades of steadfast camaraderie against all odds.

When he finally pulled up to the curb outside your new building, you felt a bizarre pang in your chest - a reluctance to break this tranquil cocoon of nostalgia and easy familiarity just yet despite the obvious need to collect your luggage waiting in the trunk.

Osamu must have sensed your hesitation because he shot you another one of those subtle sidelong looks, pewter irises inscrutable. You maintained the heavy silence for another suspended heartbeat before gesturing vaguely towards the car's rear.

"Well...I guess we should probably see about unstuffing the trunk before the neighbors start thinking we're accomplices in some robbery or something, huh?"

His low chuckle rumbled through the space between you, rich and effortlessly relaxing your tensed shoulders all over again. "Yeah, yeah...I got it. You just sit tight and I'll start hauling your mountain of crap inside before the old guy veins start bursting too much strain."

You grinned and stuck out your tongue as he unbuckled and moved to exit the vehicle. Typical Osamu - always keeping things low-key and pragmatic no matter the situation, even when it came to giving you grief over your travel habits.

Feeling lighter than you had since initially booking your return ticket, you pushed open your own door and stretched out your travel-weary limbs while waiting for your friend to join you. Over the still-running engine's idle rumble, you could hear Osamu's telltale grumbling and shuffling on the other side of the sedan as he rooted around the trunk area.

You couldn't resist tossing another teasing quip over your shoulder. "Need a hand over there with my 'mountain of crap', your highness? Or should I just leave you to suffer under the strain alone a bit longer as punishment for the snark?"

You'd barely gotten the words out before freezing dead in your tracks, one foot already hovering outside the car door to disembark as your heart lurched into your throat. Because rather than issuing some characteristically dry retort or scoffing rejoinder...Osamu had simply appeared beside you in one fluid, prowling motion - broad chest heaving slightly and intense eyes burning into yours with laser focus.

Before you could even suck down enough air for a startled yelp, his calloused palm curved around your nape with surprising reverence and urgency - tilting your head just enough to slot your parted lips together in a scorching, fevered collision. One that robbed what little oxygen remained in your lungs completely as Osamu sealed his mouth over yours in a heated glide of rasping demand.

You whimpered helplessly against the searing onslaught despite every rational cell screaming at the sudden freefall. And as Osamu growled in response, tongue delving deeper to chase the trembling surrender in your very marrow, you found yourself clutching his shirt in desperation - torn between shoving him away or clinging for dear life in the rapturous storm.

Just as quickly as the explosive fusion ignited, however, Osamu was tearing himself away with a harsh inhale. You stared at each other in twin states of dumbstruck bewilderment - both panting harshly and thoroughly awash in the lingering aftermath of whatever that was.

Before you could unstick your frozen tongue enough to articulate the maelstrom of shock and confusion ricocheting between your ears, Osamu leaned in once more and pressed a single, shuddering exhale against your damp lips.

"Bags...yeah, lemme get those inside for you first," he rasped out in a wrecked rumble that made your knees go weak all over again for an entirely different reason now.

You blinked at him owlishly for a beat, still reeling from the molten collision that had just blurred every line between you mere moments ago. But true to form, your oldest friend simply turned and began hauling your numerous suitcases from the car's trunk without further preamble.

Despite the electric tension still sparking over every nerve ending, you found yourself falling back into familiar patterns without conscious thought - gathering the smaller carry-ons and preceding him up the front walk towards your new apartment's entrance.

Neither of you spoke a word beyond the occasional directional murmur as you located the right door and disarmed the lock. An outside observer would find nothing remotely amiss about the scene unfolding between two people who'd known each other longer than most could fathom.

Yet the lack of acknowledgment regarding Osamu's heated outburst out by the curb only amplified the sense of dizzying unreality now draped over your shoulders. Had that happened at all? Or maybe it was simply the thrilling first flickers of an intoxicating dream bleeding into waking life for once?

You couldn't resist darting quick, sidelong glances at him from beneath your lashes as Osamu moved about depositing your luggage throughout the front room. He didn't seem disturbed in the slightest - features settled into those same stoic, carefully neutral lines you knew better than your own reflection.

Only the occasional flare of his nostrils or reflexive bob of his throat as he swallowed betrayed the lingering heat simmering just below the surface each time your gazes happened to intersect accidentally. It made you dizzy, this bizarre vacillation from unholy passion back to mundane patterns - like a vicious rubber band stretched taut before snapping loose without warning over and over.

Eventually, the final bag thudded into the pile and Osamu straightened to regard you head-on once more. Any sardonic quips about your inability to pack lightly died on your tongue as you took in the weight of that piercing steel-gray stare boring into you with renewed intensity.

Before you knew what was happening, Osamu stalked forward in three prowling strides that should've had your senses shrieking in instinctive retreat. But all you could manage was a trembling inhale as he backed you up against the nearest wall with purposeful possession - caging you in on both sides with those powerful forearms.

"'Samu, what—"

Whatever feeble protest your addled mind scrambled to summon withered entirely as Osamu dipped his head and sealed his mouth over yours in another explosive, wholly unexpected fusion. You moaned outright this time, relishing the smoky musk and cedar wood notes of his scent enveloping you in a rapturous shroud as his tongue swept inside.

Osamu groaned in answering delight, drinking down each needy little keen as he set about ravaging you with delirious single-minded intent. One broad palm cradled the nape of your neck to keep you angled vulnerably for his thorough possession - tilting and angling your parted lips to grant him deeper access.

You clutched at the firm muscles bracketing your waist mindlessly, nails raking with every desperate roll of your hips chasing more friction against his undulating form. Only when your ragged gasps pitched higher in the rapidly fogging air did Osamu finally tear away with a harsh inhale - though he made no move to disentangle from your helpless sprawl entirely.

The weight of his intense gaze as he studied your disheveled, panting state robbed you of any coherent protests still rattling in the disjointed remnants of your mind. Instead, you simply watched in transfixed awe as Osamu leaned in once more to ghost a revenant swipe of his tongue over your damp, kiss-swollen lips.

"Tomorrow, [Y/N]," he rumbled in a voice gone to gravel and sin made flesh against the vulnerable juncture of your throat. "First thing, or I'm not gonna be able to keep my hands off you much longer..."

You could only keen feebly as his teeth nipped at the slender column there in reprimand before Osamu withdrew entirely on another scalding exhale. He pinned you with one final, simmering look that promised so many more unholy delights to come in its depths before turning on his heel.

"I'll see you at the shop for sure," he tossed over his shoulder in that same careless drawl tinged with husky promise now. "Get some rest while you still can..."

And on that confounding parting note, Osamu slipped back out into the shadowed hallway beyond - pausing only briefly to toss you one final lingering look that made your thighs tremble instinctively. Before the echo of his footfalls faded from your consciousness entirely, you were pressed back against the wall with leaden limbs and breath still coming in sharp staccato bursts.

What had just happened? Or rather, what cosmic floodgates had finally been irrevocably pried open in one heated, unspoken downpour that threatened to shatter every known facet of your relationship with Osamu entirely?

You had no idea. But one glaring truth blazed forth in blinding clarity despite your spinning disorientation still:

Tomorrow couldn't come soon enough...

You tried not to dwell too heavily on the loaded implications laced through Osamu's parting words as you dragged yourself through your nightly routine in a bit of a daze. But no matter how you tried distracting yourself with mundane tasks and unpacking, flashes of his smoldering stare kept creeping in - stoking the lingering butterflies still rioting in your belly.

Sleep eventually claimed you in fits and bursts, restless dreams threaded through with phantom caresses and rasping whispers that left you gasping awake more than once. By the time your alarm blared into wakefulness the next morning, you felt more drained yet feverishly buzzing with anticipation than ever.

Getting ready on autopilot, you hyper-focused on simply making it through the immediate challenge ahead - seeing Osamu at his little onigiri shop as promised, as if nothing earth-shattering had erupted between you both last night. The entire walk over felt charged, every breath filling your lungs with the same heady tension that had cloaked over you in his presence since the airport reunion.

Except this time, you couldn't shove aside the implications behind each lingering look or simmering flicker in those intense pewter irises quite so easily. Not after finally shattering that fragile line forever with a few stolen, heated kisses that should've set your entire world ablaze completely.

The familiar ring of the bell above the door sent a little thrill through you as you stepped into Osamu's onigiri shop. Despite the lingering tension and unspoken implications smoldering between you since last night's...encounter, you were determined to simply enjoy being back in your oldest friend's presence again.

"Well, well, if it isn't Mrs. I-Can't-Be-Bothered-To-Call-First gracing us all with her presence," Osamu's rich baritone greeted you over the muted bustle of the small lunchtime rush.

You shot him a saucy grin, reveling in the familiar banter as you approached the counter. "Keep that sass up and I won't share the souvenirs I brought back for your ungrateful ass, mister."

Osamu's lips twitched upwards in that subtle yet utterly devastating half-smile you adored so much, eyes crinkling warmly even as he scoffed. "Like I'd want any of your weird knickknack junk cluttering up my shop anyway."

The two of you continued trading playful insults and jabs as you settled onto a stool, content to simply soak in Osamu's presence again after so long apart. Any residual tension from last night's explosive shared moment seemed to settle on the back burner as you fell back into the easy cadence that had anchored your connection for literal decades.

Osamu drifted back and forth behind the counter while simultaneously tending to orders, keeping up a steady stream of dry quips and smirks pitched just for your amusement all the while. You matched him step for step in turn, biting back laughter whenever his gruff one-liners proved too much. This was where you both thrived - bouncing off each other's sarcastic frequency with sublime ease and a profound intimacy that no years or distance between you could ever fracture.

At least, that was what you kept repeating like a mantra in the back of your mind whenever glimpses of that scorching intensity flickered through Osamu's gorgeous pewter gaze whenever it tracked over your features. A molten reminder of the unraveling tension you'd only just whetted the surface of the night before...

You tried valiantly to ignore the flutter of butterflies swooping through your belly each time without fail. Tossing out another sly rejoinder instead, just to reinforce the sense of normalcy and comfort this was all supposed to be about. Just old friends reuniting after too long apart, nothing more complicated than that.

Yet as the afternoon hours wound lazily by, you couldn't quite smother the rising anticipation prickling over your nerves anew. Osamu seemed utterly unruffled and focused on his work, but you felt his gaze lingering more often than not - studying you with an inscrutable heat dancing in those striking irises.

By the time evening rolled around and the last customers slowly trickled out, shouting their thanks and well-wishes over their shoulders, you felt strangely adrift despite the lingering warmth of reconnecting with Osamu again all day.

As your oldest friend waved them off with typical gruffness, you found yourself slipping back into the familiar comforting routines you'd fallen into while at his house a lifetime ago - gathering stray dishes, wiping down the countertops, straightening each of the comfy armchairs you both favored during quieter hours.

So absorbed were you in the mundane motions and reliving aged memories attached to every nook and cranny of the humble onigiri shop, you completely missed the distinct sound of the front door locking behind you. Nor did you notice the sudden weighted silence draped over the space like a physical presence until a solid wall of blazing heat pressed flush against your back.

You gasped sharply, frozen mid-motion before a large palm splayed over your abdomen - callused fingertips digging into the pliant give of your waist with delicious possession as your captor rumbled approval against your nape.

"There's my good girl," Osamu growled in a voice gone to scorching gravel that made you flush instantly. "All dolled up and playing at being the obedient little helper again for me...you know damn well that disguise won't fly anymore after last night, don't you baby?"

You trembled despite your best efforts, breath hitching as he nuzzled deeper into the fragrant tangle of your hair - lips skating over the thundering pulse at your throat in maddening prelude. Every powerful shift and roll of his taut muscle caged you between the iron brands of his arms deliciously.

"O-Osamu..." you somehow managed to whimper out, torn between protesting his sultry accusations or surrendering to the delirious current already pulling at your senses with dizzying force.

His low, dark chuckle reverberated straight through your attenuated nerves anew as one broad palm anchored itself over your belly, dragging you snug against the unforgiving planes of his chest in a slow, sinuous grind. You gasped at the unmistakable hardness of his cock etching against the supple curve of your ass - slick fabric doing nothing to conceal the virile intent radiating off your oldest friend in molten waves now.

"Such a pretty show you put on all day long, hm?" Osamu purred in a tone dripping with raw masculine approval - the other hand palming the generous swell of your breast as if to emphasize the point. "Playing coy and innocent like you weren't creaming those pretty little panties at the very thought of me pinning you down and giving it to you proper..."

Another whimper slipped free as his clever fingers rolled and plucked at your taut nipple through the thin material - teasing sparks of electric pleasure arcing straight down to your thrumming core. You instinctively arched back into the furnace of his powerful frame, head lolling as he lavished open-mouthed kisses along your arched throat.

"And you know what the best part is, my sweet?" he growled out darkly between each searing caress and bruising nips. "You never even noticed… how much I’ve been thinking about you all these years, just like this..."

Before you could form a single coherent protest, Osamu spun you effortlessly to pin you facing him - sculpted chest heaving and pewter gaze blown wide with unfettered lust and blistering possession. You stared up at your oldest friend in wonder, utterly transfixed by the unholy intent simmering in his every smoldering look and dexterous touch now.

This was your Osamu - indelible anchor and source of joy turned singular rapture incarnate, trapping you within the scorching gravity well of his ravenous focus entirely. And you'd never felt so deliriously desirous of sinking into its cavernous depths without hope of reprieve or salvation beyond what he chose to impart through the profane benedictions of his lips and hands alone.

As if sensing your silent, wanton surrender in that suspended heartbeat, the smallest smirk curved those full lips you'd already been branded by in delicious perpetuity. Osamu dragged the seam of his mouth over yours in a featherlight tease - tongue flicking out to taste the trembling whimpers he'd already coaxed forth so expertly.

"So what do you say, pretty girl?" he growled in a tone that promised euphoria and rapture in equal measures. "Are you gonna be good and take what I've been dreaming of giving you for far too long now, hm?"

You could only whimper and nod shakily, already undone by the sheer virile promise simmering in his scorching stare as he captured your mouth in a searing, unraveling glide of possession that ignited every nerve ending instantaneously. As Osamu hoisted you up effortlessly, strong hands cradling the plush swell of your ass and squeezing with unrepentant glee as you twined your limbs around him instinctively, the last vestiges of restraint and hesitation were obliterated entirely.

And this time, neither of you had the slightest intention of looking back...

"Mmm, there we go, baby," Osamu purred against the tender flesh of your throat as he strode across the modest expanse of the onigiri shop. "God, the things I've wanted to do to you since we were stupid teenagers - you have no idea..."

You moaned feebly, utterly lost to the sensation of being carried effortlessly in those strong arms - cradled and claimed so effortlessly in turn. Every step sent sparks of electric arousal skittering along the hypersensitive pathways of your nerves as the rigid press of his cock strained the zipper of his jeans, rubbing torturous friction over the dampened apex of your thighs.

You'd always adored his size and stature, but the sheer virility thrumming off Osamu's powerful form as he pinned you against the nearest wall and devoured your mouth whole was an intoxicating revelation in and of itself.

Osamu growled in wordless appreciation as you arched your spine and rolled your hips - grinding and squirming desperately in pursuit of more. He tore away with a harsh curse, pewter irises glinting with the same ravenous desire still pulsing through you.

"You're not making this easy on me, sweet girl," he bit out roughly, though his tone was threaded through with that same possessive approval.

He punctuated the point by pinning you flat against the wall, his larger body caging yours effortlessly as the rock-hard length of his cock wedged right against the sopping seam of your panties. You mewled, helpless and aching as the first hint of his impressive size and girth registered in the foggy recesses of your mind.

"Naughty girl, making such a mess of those pretty panties already," he chided, rocking his hips once for emphasis as you keened and shuddered. "What am I gonna do with you, hm? Maybe I'll just have to get a taste, see what kind of honey my sweet little girl is dripping just for me..."

And before you could fully comprehend the implications of his husky taunts, Osamu was on his knees - dragging your panties down your thighs in one smooth motion as he nuzzled against the soft mound of your pussy. The first swipe of his clever tongue dragged a ragged cry from your lips as you fisted his silken hair desperately.

Osamu chuckled darkly, lapping and slurping in filthy, wet strokes that made you flush hot with utter wanton embarrassment. He was licking you clean, tongue laving over your soaked folds and sucking them greedily - drinking down the slick evidence of your needy desire and groaning in satisfaction.

"So fucking sweet," he growled, gripping the generous swell of your ass and dragging you closer. "Been waiting forever to find out what you taste like, sweet girl, and it's even better than I ever dreamed..."

"O-samu..."

You had no idea what was even trying to tumble out past your wrecked whimpers, but the sight of his dark head buried between your quivering thighs, devouring your pussy like a man starved was enough to send you reeling. Osamu's gaze snapped upwards, glittering and predatory - a lethal combination that made you throb and clench hungrily.

"Tell me how much you love it," he commanded silkily, even as he resumed his relentless oral assault - two thick digits sinking deep and curling in a come-hither motion that made your eyes roll back instantly.

"T-too much," you whimpered, writhing and grinding helplessly into his ministrations. "Too good, O-Osamu...I'm gonna..."

He tutted, pulling away abruptly to lap at the creamy rivulets dripping down the plump swell of your thigh. "Already, sweet girl? But we're just getting started...unless you'd rather just cum on my tongue first, hm? Get a few rounds out of the way before I really fuck you how you deserve..."

"Please," you sobbed, shaking your head and reaching out to tangle your fingers through the silky tresses of his hair. "Want you, O-samu...wanna cum on your cock..."

Osamu chuckled darkly, peppering a trail of nips and kisses as he dragged his mouth back over the swollen folds of your pussy - lapping and slurping noisily. You moaned, arching back into the delicious torture as the tension coiled tighter, ready to snap and send you crashing into bliss.

Just as your release hovered within tantalizing reach, Osamu pulled away completely - leaving you gasping and trembling against the wall as he rose to his feet. You whimpered, feeling the loss of his wicked mouth and the sudden emptiness that left you aching.

"Shh, baby, it's okay," he soothed, cradling your jaw in a palm that dwarfed your features and kissing you soundly. The taste of your own juices on his lips made you groan anew, clinging to his shoulders as his other hand stroked your spine in lazy, soothing circles. "You'll get your turn, my sweet girl, don't worry."

Somehow, his raspy purr managed to ground you and center you once more - bringing you back to the present moment and the promise of euphoric release still waiting in the wings. You blinked up at Osamu, dazed and needy as you nodded slowly.

His answering smirk sent a fresh wave of butterflies swarming in your belly as he scooped you into his arms and carried you off once more - this time, through the doorway at the end of the small hallway that led to the stairs up to his apartment.

By the time the door swung open, your heart was racing in anticipation. Osamu didn't bother turning the lights on, navigating the familiar space with ease. A lamp flickered to life a few moments later, casting the cozy bedroom in a warm glow as he deposited you onto the plush duvet.

You barely had a chance to glance around the room, soaking in the subtle changes that had been wrought in the intervening years, before he was looming over you again - gaze smoldering and a hungry smile tugging at his full lips.

"Now, where were we, my sweet?"

You were all too eager to pull him down on top of you - mouths crashing together in a wild clash of teeth and tongues that only made the desire pulsing between your thighs that much more urgent. You tugged impatiently at his shirt, desperate to feel his heated skin sliding against your own.

Osamu obliged readily, stripping out of the offending garment and tossing it aside. His hands roamed greedily over your body, dragging the hem of your dress up and off in one fluid motion - leaving you in nothing but the thin scrap of lace covering your breasts.

The sight of his broad palms skating over your naked torso made your breath hitch, arching and shivering in response. Osamu took his sweet time, palming and kneading the soft give of your flesh, his eyes never once straying from the sight.

"Always so perfect," he groaned, thumbing over your taut nipples and dragging another needy mewl free. "Gonna make such a perfect mama someday, sweet girl. Fuck, I can't wait to breed you properly..."

Your entire body flushed with heat at the lurid promise - the mental image of yourself, full and heavy with his child, too enticing for words. He smirked at the visible reaction, tweaking your sensitive nipples again as he ducked down to claim your mouth in a possessive kiss.

"That's what you want, isn't it?" he growled against the swollen plushness of your lips, his hips grinding down and dragging the rigid line of his cock over your sweat-slick tummy. "Want me to stuff you full and breed you good and proper, my sweet girl?"

You could only whimper, nodding shakily as you fumbled with the buckle of his belt. "Please, Osamu," you mewled, tugging impatiently at the waistband of his jeans and boxers until his cock sprang free - long and thick and heavy and oh, God...

A guttural groan ripped free from the depths of his chest, his grip tightening as he rutted his hips - cock dragging over the soft flesh of your tummy, slicking it with beads of pre-cum. You shuddered, already feeling the pulse and twitch of his length as it throbbed and ached.

"Gotta get you ready for me first," Osamu rasped, pressing a bruising kiss against the curve of your throat and shoulder before rolling off of you and onto his back. "Why don't you be a good girl and help me out a little, hm?"

He was already yanking his jeans down and shoving them off his hips - exposing the sculpted v-cut that dipped towards the impressive length jutting from the thatch of silky dark curls. You could only nod, already leaning over and reaching out for the molten shaft.

Osamu caught your wrist easily, giving a gentle squeeze as his gaze burned. "Nuh-uh, sweet girl. Mouth only, got it? I don't wanna make a mess just yet, and I know you're more than capable of swallowing me down..."

Another rush of heat surged through you, flushing your cheeks with humiliation and desire as you nodded eagerly. The salty tang of his precum made your mouth water as you licked a teasing swipe from root to tip, savoring the musky flavor and relishing in the way Osamu hissed sharply.

"Such a pretty thing, just as hungry for my cock as I am for that sweet cunt of yours, huh?" he purred, carding his fingers through the disheveled tangle of your hair with an unmistakable possessiveness. "I’ve been dreaming of this for so long, sweet girl. Dreaming of feeding you my cock until I stuff that pretty throat full..."

You couldn't help the needy mewl that escaped, tongue darting out to lave over the crown once more before swallowing the broad head and suckling gently. Osamu groaned, hips stuttering and grip tightening as he forced himself not to thrust upwards.

"F-fuck, just like that, sweet girl," he growled, his voice strained. "Wanna feel you choke on it a little, think you can take it?"

You whimpered in response, relaxing your jaw and sinking down further - inch by slow inch until you could feel him nudging against the back of your throat. Osamu cursed, hips flexing instinctively and sending his cock that much deeper as you choked and sputtered, drool slipping down his shaft and coating his balls.

"Oh, f-fuck, sweetheart, look at you...taking my cock so good, just like I knew you would," he groaned, hips rolling lazily as he fucked the tight channel of your throat. Your jaw ached, throat protesting as he slid in and out. Tears pooled at the corners of your eyes, and you fought the urge to cough and gag. It was overwhelming, a sensation bordering on too much, and yet you wanted nothing more than to feel the hot ropes of his cum sliding down your throat and filling your belly.

Osamu's breaths came in rough pants, the muscles of his abdomen clenching and releasing as he drove his cock deeper with every thrust. His gaze was fixed on the spot where your lips were stretched taut around his shaft, groaning in approval when he felt the press of your tongue along the underside of his cock.

"So good, baby, s-so fucking good," he grunted, his hips snapping a little faster, a little harder, chasing the inevitable release. You swallowed and choked around him, gagging and gasping for breath, but still you sucked him down greedily - determined to make him cum.

You were a vision, tears streaking down your flushed cheeks, mascara leaving streaks in their wake as Osamu used your throat. And it was everything he had ever imagined it would be and more. The sounds of your messy, desperate little gags and choked off whimpers sent fresh pulses of pleasure skittering along his nerves.

His balls tightened, a familiar ache thrumming through the shaft of his cock, and he knew he wouldn't last much longer. He fucked into the tight suction of your mouth, the head of his cock bumping the back of your throat and forcing you to swallow reflexively.

"G-gonna cum," he gritted out, tugging roughly at the roots of your hair. "Want you to drink it all down, baby. Every last drop, just like the greedy girl you are. S-so fucking close..."

Your tongue darted out, lapping at the droplets of precum oozing from the tip and swallowing hungrily. Osamu groaned, eyes screwing shut and mouth falling open as his cock twitched and jerked - spilling rope after rope of hot, salty seed directly down the tight channel of your undulating throat.

You coughed and spluttered, fighting to swallow as much as you could, but Osamu held your head firmly in place, riding the aftershocks as he chased every ounce of pleasure. His eyes glinted when you finally pulled away, a mixture of triumph and lust making them glitter dangerously.

"Such a good girl," he crooned, cupping your cheek and tracing the swell of your bottom lip with the pad of his thumb. You mewled quietly, tongue darting out to catch the smear of milky white coating the digit.

"Mm, so good," he growled, his cock already beginning to harden again at the sight. "But we're not done yet, are we, sweet girl? That greedy little cunt of yours is still practically begging for my cock, isn't it? Gonna fill you up until there's no room left..."

You moaned, nodding eagerly and leaning forward to steal a hungry kiss, the lingering flavor of his cum still coating your tongue. Osamu returned the kiss greedily, one hand fisting in the tangled locks of your hair, while the other tugged at the scrap of fabric still covering your breasts.

With a growl, he tore the lace, the shredded fabric joining the growing pile on the floor as his lips dragged over the tender swell of your breasts. Osamu paused, sucking and nipping a path from one sensitive nipple to the other before closing his lips around the puckered bud.

You keened, writhing helplessly beneath him, but the hand gripping the back of your skull held you fast. The wet sounds of his mouth and the occasional scrape of teeth was almost enough to distract you from the fingers that had worked their way between your legs - slipping and sliding through the sloppy mess of your pussy with ease.

"Fuck, you really did make a mess of yourself," he muttered, sucking harder on the swollen bud as his fingers curled and sank deeper, searching and probing with single-minded intent. "Bet I could make you cum right now if I wanted, just like this, huh, sweet girl?"

"N-no," you whined, shaking your head even as the coil of pressure threatened to snap. "W-want your cock, 'Samu...need you to fuck me..."

He chuckled darkly, withdrawing his fingers and dragging the slick digits over the plump mound of your breast - coating the sensitive flesh with the evidence of your arousal. "Don't worry, sweet girl, I'm not gonna leave you empty. Gonna give you everything you need..."

The words were barely out of his mouth before he was on top of you once more, pinning you against the mattress as he slotted between your trembling thighs. The blunt head of his cock nudged against your swollen, aching pussy, and you nearly sobbed with relief.

"Tell me," Osamu grunted, the first few inches of his length sinking into your welcoming heat. "Tell me you need me, sweet girl. Tell me who's gonna take care of you and fuck you so good."

"Y-you, Osamu," you sobbed, the sensation of being so completely filled already bringing the tears prickling at the corners of your eyes once more. "I n-need you...I've always needed you, Osamu, please, please, please..."

He groaned, the sound almost pained as he sank the final inch and buried himself to the hilt. You were stretched taut around him, a perfect fit for his cock and his cock alone, and it was so much better than he could have ever dreamed.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted this, sweet girl," he gritted out, hips snapping roughly as he fucked into you. "How many nights I spent fucking my fist just thinking about you, wishing it was your perfect cunt squeezing the cum right outta me...and now I get to have you, fuck, I never wanna let you go..."

"Y-yours, Osamu," you moaned, clinging desperately to his shoulders as he set a punishing pace, the slap of his skin against yours echoing through the small bedroom. "Always been yours..."

He snarled, hips stuttering slightly at the confession. It had been far too easy to believe otherwise in the years apart, but with you clinging to him, begging and pleading for more, the truth was undeniable.

You were his.

Osamu was all too happy to remind you of that fact - his fingers digging bruises into your hips as he rutted into you with wild abandon. The bedframe creaked and groaned, the headboard thudding loudly against the wall as he drove into you with single-minded focus.

"F-fuck, 'm close," he panted, sweat beading along his brow. "G-gonna fill this pretty cunt with so much cum, baby, fuck, 'm gonna breed you just like I promised...get you all nice and heavy, m-make sure everyone knows you're mine."

Your own orgasm was barreling towards you, coiling tighter and tighter with every rough snap of his hips. His name was a breathless mantra falling from your lips, fingers clutching desperately at the muscles of his back, as if afraid that letting go meant he would vanish.

"That's it, baby, cum for me," Osamu grunted, a particularly sharp thrust striking the hidden bundle of nerves inside you that made you see stars. "Let me feel you cum on my cock, [Y/N]. Gotta fill this cunt up just right, wanna watch it drip out, oh, f-fuck, please...please, 'm so fucking close..."

It was as though his words had flipped a switch, pleasure pulsing through your veins as the coil snapped. You sobbed his name, clinging to him as your entire body shuddered and shook, muscles contracting and fluttering around the molten length stretching you so deliciously.

Osamu cursed, the tight, pulsating squeeze of your pussy proving too much as he thrust once, twice more, burying himself to the hilt as he came. Thick ropes of his cum painted your walls, coating them with a white-hot heat that had your eyes rolling back.

He collapsed on top of you, burying his face against the damp curve of your throat and muffling his own desperate cries as he emptied himself completely. The room fell silent, save for the ragged, hitching pants of your breaths as you clung to one another.

It took several long moments for your senses to return, and when they did, it was to the comforting weight of Osamu still sprawled across you, his arms wrapped around your torso and his lips pressed to the thundering pulse of your neck.

You sighed softly, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth, and let yourself enjoy the warmth and comfort for just a little while longer.

The rest would come soon enough.

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader smut #miya osamu smut #miya osamu x reader smut #miya osamu x reader #osamu miya #miya osamu #osamu x reader smut #osamu smut #osamu x reader

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jetii · 7 days

Text

A Little Fun

Pairing: Echo x fem!Reader / Echo x Medic!Reader

Words: 16,139

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! fluff, smut, pretty much pwp let's be honest, but there is some squad family bonding/good-natured ribbing, reader is a known flirt, reader has a nickname, insecure Echo to confident Echo, return of the king (pleasure dom Echo), he talks you through it, Echo's scomp is a paid actor, brat taming?, oral (f receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, vibrator play, squirting, praise kink, overstimulation, aftercare

Summary: There's something between you and Echo, but despite your best efforts, he's yet to make a move. A night out at 79s changes everything.

A/N: the most self-indulgent thing i’ve ever written. 🙈 do not perceive me

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The music is a wall of sound, a thudding rhythm so loud it's practically a physical force. There's a strobing light show that seems to be designed to make people sick to their stomachs, and the dance floor is so crowded with writhing bodies you can't tell where one person ends and another begins. You're entranced by it, drawn into the pulsing beat. It's like a heartbeat, and you swear it's calling to you, drawing you in.

It's been ages since you were out at a club like this. You never realized how much you missed it. You've spent months fighting battles on countless planets, patching up the squad after every fight, and then going back out and doing it all over again. The only thing that really makes the exhaustion worth it is the promise of something like this—the thrill of a good time, of letting loose and just enjoying yourself.

The song ends and another one takes its place. The music changes, but the crowd doesn't. Everyone on the floor keeps dancing, and you keep right on with them.

You don't know how long you're out there, but after a while you're starting to get worn down. You slip away from a pair of hands around your waist, leaving a trail of apologies in your wake, and head off the floor. There's a booth in the corner of the first floor that the squad has commandeered, a rare commodity at 79s, and you stumble towards it.

You've had enough drinks that you're pleasantly buzzed, and you've lost count of the number of people you've danced with. It's made your body feel alive and hot, the music's thudding beat thrumming through your skin. You haven't had this much fun in months, and for the first time in a long time, you feel free.

"Having fun?" Hunter calls out as you approach. He's sitting on one side of the round booth, next to Crosshair, who has an arm slung casually over the back. You left Wrecker out on the dance floor with a group of Twi'lek women who seem to find his bulk a source of fascination, and Tech is seated on Hunter's other side next to Echo, nursing a drink and watching the room with a passive gaze.

"Of course," you say with a laugh. "You're not?"

"Eh." Crosshair scoffs, not bothering to look over at you. His eyes are trained on the dancers out on the floor. "Not really."

"What about you, Tech?" you ask, leaning against the table and taking a sip of your drink.

"I find the entire affair rather fascinating," he says as he gestures vaguely at the crowd. "All the various forms of sentient expression are...interesting, to say the least."

"And what do you think of my form of expression, Tech?" you ask playfully, putting your hand over your heart and giving him a flirty smile. You take a seat at the end of the booth and lean closer.

Tech, ever immune to your antics, doesn't miss a beat.

"You appear to be expending a lot of energy on a relatively simple activity. However, the results do seem to be pleasing to you."

"What he's trying to say is, you look like you're having a good time," Echo supplies. He has his chin propped on his hand, but he's smiling at you, clearly amused. You meet his gaze and grin back.

"I am having a good time," you confirm. "How about you?"

"It's not exactly my scene," he says, and he gives a shrug. "But I can see why you'd enjoy it."

"If you change your mind and want to dance, just let me know," you tell him. "You know, since I'm already expending all this energy."

"Maybe later," he says.

His smile softens, and you're a little surprised to see it. The last few months have been hard on Echo, and you can count on one hand the number of times you've seen him smile like that. He's been working through a lot of guilt and self-loathing, and seeing him smile, even if it's small, is a nice change. It's good to see him loosening up a bit.

"I'll hold you to that," you tell him, and Echo grins and leans back.

"Are you sure you don't want to come out on the dance floor, Tech?" you ask, glancing over at him.

Tech shakes his head. "I prefer not to dance."

"What about you two? Not planning on getting out there?"

"I would sooner stick my hand in a rocket booster than step foot on that dance floor," Crosshair says without looking away from the crowd.

Hunter nods, and he gestures with his bottle. "That goes for me, too."

"Bunch of party poopers," you mutter and take a drink. "You should be ashamed of yourselves."

“There‘s no shortage of people willing to dance with you," Crosshair says, still staring at the crowd, and you can hear the teasing lilt in his voice. "No need to bother with us."

"We wouldn't want to deprive the galaxy of your...talents," Tech says.

"Very funny." You take a long drink and let the conversation drop.

"So," Hunter starts after a long silence. His eyes flicker to Echo and back to you, and he raises a brow. "How many people did you have to beat off with a stick on the dance floor?"

"Not too many," you say. "Only a few."

"Only a few, huh?" Crosshair asks. He sounds skeptical.

"Cross, don't act like you weren't counting every guy I danced with," you retort, and when he doesn't immediately respond, you grin and lean forward, bracing your elbows on the table. "See? Knew it."

"Don't flatter yourself," he says. "I was bored. Had nothing better to do."

"Yeah, yeah," you say, rolling your eyes. "Whatever you say. Don’t worry, none of them are worth mentioning."

“What about that guy who was talking to you earlier?" Echo asks, and he nods over to a spot near the bar. "I saw him buy you a drink. Didn't look like nothing."

"Who, that Mirialan?" You wave a dismissive hand. "Nah, he was cute, but not really my type.”

Echo gives a low hum of acknowledgement, his eyes never leaving yours, and you feel a strange thrill at the attention. You've always loved the way he looks at you. There's something about his eyes that makes your heart skip a beat, something warm and knowing and inviting. You’ve caught him looking at you like this plenty of times before, but tonight feels different. It feels almost daring. You sit up straighter and turn toward him.

"And what is your type?" he asks. There's an edge of seriousness to his question, and you consider him for a moment, watching him watch you.

"I like someone who can keep up with me," you say finally, and then, with a playful smile, add, "You know, someone with stamina."

Echo laughs a quiet, low chuckle, and your chest tightens. His laugh is a rare and beautiful thing, and you feel a thrill when you hear it.

"Stamina," he repeats, his voice soft and warm. There's a dazed look in his eye, and he blinks it away and meets your gaze again. “Right.”

The conversation is interrupted when Wrecker comes back to the table, panting and laughing, clearly out of breath. There's a sheen of sweat on his forehead and his cheeks are flushed, but he looks thrilled. He drops into the booth next to you, and the motion shoves you closer to Echo. You feel his leg brush yours under the table, and the sudden touch sends a warm spark shooting up your spine.

"This is great!" he shouts over the music. "Why don't we go out more?"

"Because our lives are a shitshow," Crosshair deadpans, finally turning to look at the rest of the squad.

Wrecker lets out a hearty laugh, and reaches across the table to give Crosshair a good-natured smack on the shoulder. "Ah, don't be so gloomy!"

"I'm not being gloomy, I'm being realistic," Crosshair replies with a scowl, but he softens a bit when Wrecker pulls back and settles into the booth, his arm slung over the back behind you.

"Oh, don't listen to him," Wrecker says. He's turned towards you now, and his arm is pressing against the back of your shoulders. "We should go out more often. You're a great dancer, y'know that?"

"You're not so bad yourself,” you say with a grin. “You're pretty light on your feet for someone so big."

Wrecker lets out a loud, barking laugh, pulling his arm out from behind you to slap his knee. His laugh is infectious, and you can't help but laugh along.

"You hear that, Cross?" he says. "I'm light on my feet."

"You're a regular acrobat," Crosshair drawls, his tone flat, but the hint of a smile plays at his lips.

"See, you're in a good mood!" Wrecker says, his smile growing. He takes a long pull from his drink, and then sets the glass down on the table, turning back to you. “Let’s go back out there! You and me, we'll show these losers how it's done."

"I need a break," you say, holding up a hand to stop him. "Sorry, Wrecker. Maybe later."

"Aw, alright," he says. He's still grinning, and he claps you on the shoulder with a bit more force than necessary. Your body rocks to the side, and you let out a breathless laugh as Echo puts a steadying hand on your arm.

"Easy there," Echo warns. His fingers linger on your forearm, and you can't help the thrill that rushes through you. You meet his gaze, and the corners of his mouth twitch.

"Thanks,” you say, and offer him a small smile.

Echo doesn't say anything. He just smiles back and pulls away, lifting his drink to his lips.

The conversation moves on, but you're barely paying attention to anything other than the feeling of Echo's leg against yours, the heat of his body, the lingering feeling of his hand on your arm. The touch was casual, friendly, but there's a part of you that wants to reach out and take his hand. It's been a while since you've gone dancing, and it's been longer since you've had any kind of physical intimacy, and a small, desperate part of you wants that contact. Especially if it’s Echo.

You steal a glance at him and find him looking back at you. His gaze is focused, a bit calculating, like he's trying to puzzle you out, and there’s a faint flush high on his cheeks. You raise an eyebrow at him, and his lips curl into a small smile. The two of you share a long look, and you wonder if he's thinking the same thing as you are.

"I'm gonna head back out," Wrecker says, and the words snap you out of your trance. He's standing next to the booth now, his drink empty, his hands splayed out on the table. "You guys should come out there with me. Stitches, c’mon!”

"I told you, I need a break," you say, a teasing smile playing at your lips. "Why don't you take Hunter? He was just saying how much he wanted to dance.”

"No," Hunter says immediately, shooting you a warning look. "Absolutely not."

"Yes!" Wrecker exclaims.

The small smirk on Crosshair’s face spreads into a full on grin as he stands from the booth, pulling a grumbling Hunter up with him. He pushes him into Wrecker’s awaiting arms, and Wrecker gives a loud cheer. “Let’s go, Sarge!”

"You're a traitor," Hunter hisses, shooting you a dirty look over his shoulder as Wrecker drags him away. You give him a cheeky little wave, and he narrows his eyes.

"Have fun!" you call after him. You can hear Hunter let out a loud groan over the sound of the music, and you laugh as the pair disappears into the crowd.

Crosshair snickers and slips back into the booth, stretching out across the seat and resting his arm across the back. "Well, this’ll be entertaining."

"He'll be fine," Tech says, taking a sip of his drink before returning to his datapad. The four of you laugh a moment, and then fall into a companionable silence.

With the other two distracted, you slide closer to Echo, letting your leg press against his. You don't know if he does it on purpose or not, but he shifts and his leg presses harder against yours, a solid weight against you.

You let your eyes wander to the dance floor, where Hunter and Wrecker are dancing amongst the crowd. Hunter seems to have loosened up a tad, and his movements are more fluid, less rigid. But when he turns to look over at you, you can see the murder in his eyes. You can't help but laugh and give him another wave.

"You're cruel," Echo says, leaning in so his voice will carry over the noise, his breath warm on your cheek.

"No, I’m a genius," you reply easily. "And an opportunist."

You turn your head back towards him, and the two of you are close—much closer than you expected. His face is only inches from yours, and he's so close that you can see the flecks of gold in his brown eyes, the stubble on his jaw, the tiny scar on his forehead.

He's looking at you the way he did earlier, and a wave of warmth runs through your body, pooling low in your belly.

"A dangerous combination,” he says. He looks down, and his lips curl into a smile.

You laugh, and his eyes dart up to meet yours. "Is that a good thing?"

Echo pauses, considering. "I guess we'll find out."

There's a tension building between the two of you, and for a moment, neither of you speak. He's studying you with that intense, focused gaze again, and your body is thrumming. You've felt this feeling before, whenever Echo looks at you like that.

He's attractive—that was an undeniable fact. And he's funny, and smart, and caring, and he's a really, really good friend. But it's the moments like this, the times when his focus is all on you, that make you wish for something more.

You don't know what exactly that something more is, but right now, you can't help but imagine his lips pressed against yours, the feeling of his fingers running through your hair, the heat of his body pressed up against yours. It's been so long since you've had any sort of contact like that, and right now, it's all you can think about.

"So," Echo says, finally breaking the silence. His voice is a low rumble. "Stamina, huh?"

You hum, nodding. "It's a requirement."

"And what other requirements are there?"

"Depends," you say with a little shrug. You find yourself leaning in a fraction, drawn to him, and he mimics the motion. You’re not sure if he even realizes he’s doing it, but the sight of him moving towards you sends a hot pulse of anticipation through you.

"On?" he asks. There's a teasing lilt in his voice, a gentle playfulness, and you can't help but smile. His eyes drop to your mouth and then flick back up to meet yours.

"Who's asking."

You watch a range of emotions flicker across his face, and then Echo leans back, the tension in the air dissipating. He takes a sip of his drink and gives you a smile. "Good to know."

He turns back to the group, and you feel the loss of his gaze like a physical thing. The conversation shifts, and Echo starts talking to Tech, and the two of them get caught up in whatever it is they're discussing.

You can't focus on the conversation. Your eyes are fixed on Echo's face, watching him. It's like something has shifted between the two of you, and you're not entirely sure what that means. It's hard to read him sometimes—he's not exactly forthcoming with his emotions, but you had thought there was a mutual attraction, an understanding.

But then, you can be wrong about these things. it wouldn’t be the first time, and now that the moment has passed, it feels like it never even happened. You move to a sip of your own drink to try to calm your racing heart before you realize it’s empty.

"I'm gonna grab a refill," you say, sliding out of the booth and turning back toward the table. You ignore Crosshair’s smirk, and ask, "Anybody want anything?"

Crosshair and Tech both shake their heads, and Echo looks up at you and smiles.

"I'll come with," he says and slides out of the booth to follow you.

You can feel the weight of Crosshair's eyes on the back of your neck as the two of you walk off. You have a feeling that the conversation will pick back up the moment you're out of earshot, and you have a strong suspicion that you know exactly what it's going to be about.

When the two of you get to the bar, Echo flags down the bartender. The two of you place your orders and wait for the droid to prepare them, and you lean against the bar, your shoulder pressed against Echo's. He glances over at you, and you give him a smile.

"You doing okay?" you ask, tilting your head towards him.

"Yeah, why?"

"I just wanted to check in," you say. You shift a bit, leaning in closer. "We've all been under a lot of stress lately. I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

Echo considers your words, his brow furrowed in concentration as he looks back at you. Eventually, he seems to come to a decision, and his expression clears.

"I am," he says. "And I appreciate you checking in, but I'm fine. Really."

You nod. That's been Echo's refrain ever since he joined the Bad Batch. The squad has helped him adjust, and the new prosthetics have helped too, but you can tell it's still not easy for him. You've tried your best to support him, and the others have done the same, but there's only so much any of you can do.

"I'm glad," you say. You pause, and then, after a moment's consideration, add, "If you ever need to talk, or anything, you know where to find me."

Echo smiles and nods. “I know.”

The droid sets down your drinks, and you each grab one. For a moment, you debate whether to take them back to the table, but you can hear the sounds of shouting and laughter, and a quick glance at the crowd reveals Hunter and Wrecker stumbling back to the booth.

"Wanna stay here?" you ask, lifting your glass.

Echo looks over at the group, and then back to you. He's got that smile on his face again, and it makes your heart skip a beat.

"Sure," he says, and he hops onto one of the stools. You follow suit, sitting on the one next to him.

You sit in companionable silence for a while. You can hear the sounds of the music, of the dancers and the laughter, but the sounds seem distant, and for a moment, you and Echo are alone.

"I'm happy to see you having fun," he says, breaking the silence.

"Why's that?"

"We've been through a lot the past few months,” he answers. His voice is quiet, but the look in his eyes is steady and focused. "You deserve to have a good time."

"So do you, Echo.”

He doesn't reply, but there's a thoughtful expression on his face as he looks back out at the dance floor. His eyes are distant, and you follow his gaze with a curious tilt of your head.

"You want to get out there and dance, don't you?" you guess, a teasing grin spreading across your face.

Echo gives you a sidelong glance, and his mouth twitches in a little smile. "I told you, it's not really my scene. Not anymore, at least."

"So we'll find another way for you to have fun,” you reply as you turn on the stool to face him. You take a sip of your drink and give him a pointed look. It’s a bit forward, even for you, but the alcohol has you feeling bold, and you get the sense that Echo isn’t as put off by your flirting as he pretends to be.

The two of you lock eyes, and the moment stretches on. His eyes flit over your face, searching, and you meet his gaze, refusing to blink.

Echo rolls his eyes before ducking his head, shaking it slightly. You can see a faint blush on his cheeks, and he lets out a quiet laugh.

"Yeah, okay,” he says sarcastically, and you frown.

"You think I'm not serious?"

"No," he replies, raising his eyebrows at you. "I know you're not."

You tilt your head, studying him. He looks a mixture of amused and annoyed, but beneath that, there's something else. There's a softness to his expression, an almost pleading edge to his voice. It's a strange combination, and you're not sure how to interpret it.

"What makes you say that?"

"Because it’s you," he says, as if that explains everything.

"So?"

"So, you're..." he trails off, gesturing vaguely in your direction. You raise your eyebrows at him, and he lets out a small huff. "Look, we both know you're not really interested."

You feel a surge of annoyance. "Well, maybe I am. Why don't you give me a chance to prove it?"

Echo stares at you, his mouth set in a thin line, and for a moment, the two of you are locked in a silent stand-off. Finally, he breaks the stalemate, letting out a quiet sigh.

"What?" you ask

"Nothing," he says, shaking his head. "You're drunk."

"I am not," you protest. Your eyebrows furrow in indignation. "I've had three drinks, max. And they were light. I'm just feeling good."

"Okay, then," he says, a skeptical look on his face. "Maybe you're not drunk. But you're not exactly thinking straight, either."

You scoff. "Is anyone ever thinking straight in a place like this?"

"Very funny."

"I'm just saying, I'm serious," you insist. "I'm more than happy to have fun with you, if that's what you want."

Echo opens his mouth, and then shuts it, his lips pressed in a thin line. You've never seen him so unbalanced, and the sight fills you with a perverse sense of satisfaction.

"You're not thinking this through," he says. "You have no idea what you're offering."

"So explain it to me," you say. You set your drink down and slide closer to him, your knees brushing against the side of his leg. His eyes dart to the movement, and then back up to meet yours. There's a spark of heat in his gaze, and you can't help but smile.

"You're really—" He breaks off, his gaze dropping to your mouth, and his tongue darts out, swiping over his lips. His gaze lingers for a long moment, and you can feel the tension in the air thicken, like static electricity building just before a lightning strike.

"I'm really what?"

He lets out a frustrated sound. "You’re not making this easy.”

"Oh, please," you say, rolling your eyes. "If it was easy, it wouldn't be any fun."

"You're something else," he says, and there's an edge of frustration to his voice. He runs a hand over his face, and then looks back at you. “I’m not talking about this here.”

"Fine," you say, a little miffed. "Then come back to the ship with me, and we'll finish this conversation."

Echo lets out a long breath, his shoulders sagging. He looks torn, and you can't quite figure out what's going on in his head.

"Echo, if you're not into it, that's fine," you tell him, your voice softer. "I'm not trying to pressure you. I just wanted you to know that I'm interested."

He nods slowly, his eyes still trained on yours. There's a wariness there, and for a moment, you’re certain he's going to reject you.

Instead, he slides off the stool and takes a step forward. You turn, your legs parting of their own accord, and he moves between them. He's so close that your knees are brushing his hips, and the contact sends a spark of anticipation through you.

"Let me make this clear," he says, leaning in, and his voice is a low, raspy whisper in your ear. "You don't know what you're getting into."

"Try me."

"You really wanna go down this road?"

"Absolutely.”

There's no hesitation. You've wanted this, wanted him, for longer than you're willing to admit, and now that it's within reach, there's no way in hell you're backing down.

Echo pulls back, but he doesn’t go far. His eyes are dark, the light gold overtaken by his pupils, and a hot wave of arousal shoots through you.

"Please," you add for good measure, the word a breathless whisper.

That seems to be the last straw. Echo lets out a heavy breath, and his hand comes up, cupping the back of your head. His fingers are digging into the strands of your hair, and you can't help but tip your head back a little, letting him feel the weight of your skull in his hand. His thumb traces a soft, slow line over the nape of your neck, and you shiver at the sensation.

"This is a bad idea," he says. His words are barely a murmur, and they send a warm thrill running through you.

"Yeah," you agree. You reach up and curl a hand around the back of his neck, stroking the sensitive skin with your thumb, and his eyes flutter closed. “Come back to the ship with me.”

“Kriff,” he mutters, his voice rough. He looks back at you, his eyes searching your face, and he lets out a frustrated huff.

Echo steps back, releasing his hold on your head, and you hold your breath as you watch him. You wait for him to leave, to walk away from you, but he just reaches for his drink and finishes it, his eyes never leaving yours. When he's done, he sets the empty glass on the counter and holds his hand out.

"Let's go."

You can't help the way your face lights up at the words. You finish the last of your drink and take his hand, letting him pull you to your feet. You weave through the crowd, the two of you practically joined at the hip, his hand still grasping yours tightly.

"Do you want to let the others know we're leaving?"

"Nah," Echo says. He doesn't turn to look at you, his eyes fixed ahead as he pulls you along. "They're too busy having a good time."

"But—"

"Stitches.”

He glances over his shoulder, giving you a sharp look. The intensity in his gaze, the hunger, is enough to send a rush of heat through your body, and you swallow.

"Oh," you say, the word almost a gasp.

Echo gives you a little smile, and his hand slips away from yours. For a moment, the loss is nearly overwhelming, and then his fingers skim over your lower back. They trace a slow line down to your hip, and his hand settles there, guiding you through the crowd. The touch is light, gentle, but it's the possessiveness of it that sends a shiver up your spine.

When the two of you step through the doors and into the night air, he lets his hand slip lower, until it's resting just above the swell of your ass. You're not sure if the motion is intentional or not, but it sets a fire alight in you, and you have to resist the urge to press back against his palm or try to coax him to move lower.

You slow down. "So, uh, are we gonna—"

"Walk and talk," Echo says, cutting you off with a gentle push forward. His voice is low, and there's an authoritative edge to it that makes your knees feel weak. "The others will notice that we're gone eventually. We don't have a lot of time."

"Okay," you say, nodding. The two of you walk quickly through the city, and you're grateful for the fresh air. It clears your head a fraction, enough that the buzz of the alcohol has started to fade, and you're left with a sharp clarity.

The silence between the two of you is tense, but it's not uncomfortable. It feels charged, full of energy, and you're keenly aware of his hand on your lower back. His fingers are splayed out, his hand spanning the width of your waist, and his thumb is tracing a slow line over the fabric of your shirt.

It's driving you crazy, and you can't help the way you arch your back, pushing into the pressure. You feel his grip tighten, and you bite your lip, fighting back a moan.

Echo lets out a small chuckle. "Someone's eager."

"I thought we’ve established that already,” you reply. You let a bit of a whine slip into your voice, and when he looks over, his eyes are wide.

"Are you always like this?" he asks.

"Like what?"

"This..." he trails off, gesturing with his scomp, and his face flushes a light pink. "Teasing."

"Only when I want someone."

Echo doesn't say anything in response. He just nods and keeps walking, but you don't miss the way his grip tightens a little, or the way he starts moving faster.

The moment the two of you are through the hatch of the Marauder, Echo slams his palm on the control panel, shutting the door behind him. The ship goes dark as you stand a few feet apart, staring at each other.

Echo leans against the wall, settling back with a considering look on his face, and he crosses his arms. He’s lit by the light coming through the window, and the pale glow makes him look otherworldly.

"Well?" you prompt, raising an eyebrow.

"Come here."

His voice is quiet, and you can barely hear him over the pounding of your heart. But the tone leaves no room for argument, and you can't help but comply. You step forward, moving slowly, and Echo's eyes track your movements.

You stop when your shoes are a few inches from his, and you tilt your head, looking up at him. You can feel the heat radiating off of him, and it's taking every ounce of self-control not to touch him.

"What do you want from me?" he asks.

"I—"

"No," he says. His hand and scomp come up, settling on your hips, and the motion pushes the two of you together. He's so close that you can feel his breath on your face, and the warmth of his body is burning through the layers of your clothing. "Don't think about it. Tell me."

Your eyes dart down to his lips, and he doesn't miss the movement. His lips quirk upward, and his thumb rubs gentle, slow circles on the fabric of your shirt.

"I want—" you break off, hesitating, and Echo gives your hip a squeeze. The pressure is light, but it's enough to get you to focus.

"I want this. I want you," you say, the words tumbling out in a rush. You take a breath and meet his eyes. "But I want you to know that I'm not just doing this because it's convenient, or because I'm bored. I'm doing this because I like you, Echo. I have for a long time."

Echo doesn't speak, and for a moment, the only sound is the gentle hum of the ship around you. His eyes search your face, as though trying to determine if you're being truthful, and you watch as the hard edge of his expression softens, replaced by something softer, something hopeful.

"You really mean that, don't you?"

"Yeah," you reply. You feel a wave of relief at his words, and you can't help the grin that spreads across your face.

"How long?"

"I don't know," you answer honestly. You take a step closer, until there's no more space between the two of you. He doesn't move, but you can see the way his breath catches, and you can feel the way his hand tightens on your hip.

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"Because you weren't ready," you say. You take a deep breath, and the motion makes his eyes drop to your mouth again. "I wanted to wait until you were ready. So I just want you to know, this isn’t—I mean, it's not just a fling, or anything. I want this to mean something."

"Good," he says quietly. "Me too."

You can't help the sigh of relief that escapes your lips. "Thank fuck."

Echo's lips twitch, and he ducks his head. The tips of his ears are a bit pink, and his shoulders are shaking a little.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing," he says, looking back up. There's a soft smile on his face, and it makes your stomach flutter. "I just—you're really cute, you know that?"

"Am I?"

"Yeah," he replies, and his fingers start tracing patterns on your hip. The feeling is a light, tickling sensation, and you can't help the way your body shifts a bit, moving closer.

“Is that a good thing?” you ask.

"Depends," he says, and the way he parrots your words makes you laugh. He smiles and adds, "And I’m a little relieved. I don't do flings."

"Then why'd you agree to come back here with me?"

"Because I trust you," he says. "And because I want you. More than I've wanted anyone in a long time. Maybe ever."

"Yeah?"

Echo nods, his eyes never leaving yours. You're both close, and you can feel the tension building between the two of you. He's not holding back anymore, and his expression is open, his emotions plain on his face. The butterflies in your stomach kick up, fluttering wildly. Echo reaches up, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. He tucks it behind your ear, and the contact is gentle, tender. His fingers brush against the sensitive shell, and the feeling is so delicate, so soft, that it sends a shiver through you.

"Yeah."

You nod, a smile spreading across your face. "Okay, then."

"Okay."

He's smiling now too, and the sight is almost too much. You've seen him smile plenty of times before, but this one is different, and it takes your breath away. His fingers skim over the curve of your jaw, and when they reach your chin, he tilts it up, angling your face towards his. Your lips part, and you suck in a quick breath.

"So," he says, his voice quiet. His eyes drop to your mouth, and he pauses for a moment, just staring. His tongue darts out, swiping over his lips, and when his gaze flicks back up to meet yours, his pupils are blown. "What do you want me to do?"

You hesitate, the words sticking in your throat. You're not quite sure how to answer the question. It's a little hard to form words when his thumb is brushing over the soft, sensitive skin of your chin.

"Don't get shy on me now," Echo murmurs. "Come on, tell me."

"I want—" You break off, swallowing. Your throat feels dry, and you try again. "I want you to kiss me."

His mouth curls up into a smirk. "You can do better than that."

"Kriff, Echo, just—"

His grip on your chin tightens a fraction, and you force yourself to swallow and try again, more confidence in your voice. "I want you to fuck me. I want you to take what you want. I want you to make me feel good. Is that enough for you?"

Echo's smirk melts away, and his lips part, his breath coming out in a quick huff. His eyes are fixed on your mouth, and his pupils are dilated, his irises just a thin ring of gold around the edges.

"Fuck," he mutters, and his eyes flicker back up to meet yours. There's an intensity to his gaze that sends a shiver through you, and the feeling is only heightened when his thumb traces the edge of your bottom lip, his touch light.

"So what do you think?" you ask, unable to keep a hint of amusement from creeping into your voice.

Echo shakes his head, his brow furrowed, and you can't help the way your lips curve into a grin. His gaze darts back down to your mouth, and his own lips twitch. When he speaks, his voice is low and husky.

"I knew it."

"Knew what?"

"That you'd be like this," he says. There's a teasing note in his voice, but the look on his face is serious, and you can't help the shiver that runs through you.

"You've been thinking about it?" you ask softly.

"Yeah, I have," he mutters, and then he's moving. He grips your waist, lifting you, his scomp arm sliding underneath your ass, and he turns, pressing you against the wall. The sudden motion and the cool metal at your back sends a rush of adrenaline through you, tearing a sound from your lips.

"I've been thinking about it too," you admit, wrapping your legs around his waist. You're clinging to him, and you can't stop the way you're moving your hips, rubbing against him.

"You have, huh?"

"Yeah," you breathe. "You have no idea."

He makes a sound, a cross between a laugh and a groan. He closes his eyes, and his head falls forward, his forehead pressing against yours.

"I've been driving myself crazy," he mutters, his voice thick with desire. "Just wondering."

"Is that why you've been staring at me?"

He huffs a quiet laugh, and he lifts his head, a rueful smile on his face. "You noticed."

"It was hard not to." You grin, leaning back a fraction, and his grip on your hip tightens, his fingers digging into the fabric of your pants. "Especially when I was trying to catch you."

He lets out a frustrated sigh, and he presses you against the wall, his hips grinding into yours. The pressure is firm and steady, and you can't stifle the moan that slips out.

"You are cruel," he says, and there's a note of wonder in his voice.

"So are you," you shoot back, rocking your hips against him. "All that eye-fucking."

"Eye-fucking," he repeats, letting out a short laugh. "That's what you're calling it?"

"It's accurate."

He lets out another quiet chuckle, his body shaking a fraction, and the motion sends a shiver up your spine.

"I just had to figure it out," he explains. "I had to make sure."

In the dim light, it's hard to see the details of his face, but you can't miss the heat in his eyes, or the flush that colors his cheeks. You can't help the soft laugh that escapes your lips, and you reach up, letting the backs of your fingers trace over his jaw.

"I didn't mind," you say softly. "I've been watching you, too."

Echo hums, a soft, thoughtful sound, his eyes searching your face. "Watching me, huh?"

"Of course," you say. You lean forward, brushing your lips over the sensitive shell of his ear. You can feel him tense against you, and when you drag the tip of your tongue along the delicate flesh, he sucks in a sharp breath. "And I've liked what I've seen."

"Fuck," he breathes, and you can feel him shudder. "Do that again."

You oblige, pressing another kiss to his ear, and this time, you let your teeth scrape over the delicate skin. He lets out a low moan, and his hips roll forward, grinding against yours.

"Kriff, that feels good," he groans, and the sound goes straight to your core. "Keep going."

You nip at the soft skin, and when his hips roll again, you grind down, pushing back. The friction is delicious, and the motion makes him gasp, his eyes fluttering shut. Your mouth trails along his jaw, and his skin is soft under your lips. You kiss a slow path along the edge, and when you reach his chin, you nip the skin, making him jerk his hips again.

"Fuck, you're—" he breaks off with a groan, his head falling back as you trail a series of kisses down his neck.

"I'm what?" your murmur, tracing a line of kisses underneath his jaw.

"You're gonna be the death of me," he manages. His head falls forward, and his mouth crashes into yours.

It's not a gentle kiss. It's messy, a little desperate, and when his tongue licks into your mouth, you can't help the whimper that escapes your lips. He tastes like spice and smoke, and he's kissing you with an intensity that makes your head spin.

You let go of his neck, and your hands move to his chest, tracing over the hard planes. His lips move frantically against yours, his scomp underneath your ass encouraging the motion of your hips, and his hand roams over your body everywhere he can reach. He grabs your waist, squeezing the soft flesh of your hip, running up your ribs and skimming over your stomach before drifting back down. He cups your ass, grabbing a fistful of the flesh and tugging you closer, until there's not an inch of space between the two of you.

You can't help but moan, and the sound seems to spur him on. He lets out a low groan and pulls away, leaving a trail of biting kisses along the line of your jaw, down your throat. His mouth is hot and wet against your skin, and he nips the sensitive flesh, soothing the sting with his tongue.

"Echo," you gasp. "Bed, please. Now."

He nods before his mouth finds yours again. The kiss is sloppy and deep, his tongue sliding against yours, and you can't help the moan that escapes your lips as he pulls away. Echo steps back and sets you on your feet, steadying you with his scomp when your knees wobble.

"Come on," he murmurs. He takes a step forward, backing you toward the bunks, and his gaze doesn't leave yours as he navigates the small space.

His bunk is only a few steps away, and when you reach it, Echo stills. He turns you, guiding you until you're facing the bed, your back to him. You can feel the warmth of his body behind you, the press of his armor against your back.

"Take off your shirt," he says, his voice low in your ear. His scomp is a firm weight on your hip, keeping you still, and his other hand drifts over your side, ghosting over your ribs.

You reach for the hem of your shirt and tug it over your head, letting it fall to the ground. Echo deftly unhooks your bra, sliding the straps down your arms, and you toss it on top of your shirt. He presses a soft, gentle kiss to the back of your neck, and his hand slides up your waist. You're not sure when he took the glove off his hand, but his fingers are tracing a slow, languid path, his calluses sending little tingles over your skin.

"Take off your pants," he says. The words are quiet, almost reverent, and his fingers brush over the soft swell of your breast.

You follow his command, taking off your boots and socks before you slide the pants down your legs. Your underwear is last, and the thin material is soaked through, the damp fabric clinging to the sensitive flesh.

When you turn back around, he's watching you with a look of open desire. His eyes are dark and heated, and the way they drag over your body, taking in the sight of your naked form, sends a flush spreading over your skin.

"You're overdressed," you say, and there's a teasing edge to your voice.

Echo doesn't answer, just gives you a heated look before turning his attention to his armor. He removes it piece by piece, until the only thing left is his blacks. The fabric clings to his body, outlining the hard planes of muscle and the sharp angles of his shoulders. You can't help but watch him, taking in the sight of him, and the longer you stare, the more he seems to relax.

"Enjoying the show?" he asks, his mouth quirking in a smile.

"Yes," you say honestly. "Very much."

"Good," he says, and he lifts his scomp, making a twirling motion. "Turn around."

You obey, turning back around, and out of the corner of your eye, you see him smile.

"Now bend over," he says, and the words send a bolt of heat straight to your core. "Hands on the bunk."

"Echo—"

"Trust me," he murmurs, and the words send a shiver down your spine. "It'll be worth it."

You nod, and slowly bend at the waist. You brace yourself, leaning forward and resting your weight on your forearms. The position leaves you vulnerable, and you can't help the way a hot, tingling blush creeps over your skin.

"Good," Echo murmurs. His hand slides over your hip, and he gives it a light squeeze before trailing his fingers over the curve of your ass.

"Are you—"

"Don't move," he says, and the words send a jolt of heat straight through you. He's standing so close, his body nearly pressed against yours, and the warmth of his body is seeping into you, heating your skin. "Just let me take care of you."

He steps back, and you can't help but squirm, trying to follow him. "But—"

"What did I just say?" he asks, and the tone of his voice makes your core clench.

"Echo," you whine, and your voice is a bit higher than usual. You can't help the way the heat creeps into your face, or the way your stomach flutters.

"What did I say?" he repeats. He reaches up and brushes his fingers over the curve of your ass, his touch feather-light.

"Don't move."

"Good girl," he says. You hear him drop to his knees behind you, and his hand slides over the curve of your ass. He grabs a handful of the flesh, squeezing it, and the pressure is enough to make your hips jerk.

"Stay still," he says, his voice low and firm. "You know the rules."

"Yeah," you breathe, a bit breathless. "I'll be good."

Echo doesn't say anything, but his thumb rubs a slow, soothing circle over the soft skin. His hand slips from your ass and comes up to the junction of your thighs. He traces the crease where your leg meets your ass, and his fingers brush over the sensitive skin.

"Open your legs," he murmurs, his breath hot on the skin of your inner thigh. "Wider."

You obey, widening your stance, and when you do, he lets out a low hum of approval.

"Just like that," he says. His scomp rests on your hip, steading you as his fingers dip between your thighs. They drag over the sensitive folds, spreading the slick arousal coating your core. The touch is light, teasing, and it's barely enough to satisfy the ache building inside you.

"Kriff, Echo," you groan, and your voice is a bit shaky. "Please, don't—"

"Don't what?" he asks. His hand stills, and he doesn't move, his fingers barely touching the heated flesh.

"Don't tease me," you beg, and the words come out a bit strangled.

"You like it, though," he says. He leans forward, his tongue darting out and dragging a slow, wet line up your core. The feeling makes your hips jerk, and the muscles of your abdomen clench. "Don't you?"

"Yes," you gasp, and the word comes out a bit ragged. You can feel your walls clenching around nothing, desperate for any kind of friction, and the tension is nearly unbearable.

"Then let me," he says, and his voice is a low, raspy murmur. "Let me make this good for you."

He ducks his head again, and his tongue is hot and slick as it drags through your folds, the tip just barely dipping inside your entrance. He repeats the motion, his tongue teasing the sensitive flesh, and the feeling makes your hips buck. His scomp is firm on your hip, preventing you from moving too far, and you can't quite decide if the lack of control is maddening or exhilarating.

"Echo," you whine, and the sound is a plaintive, pleading noise.

He doesn't answer. His thumb and scomp move, his thumb spreading the swollen lips of your pussy, and his scomp helps holds them apart, giving him better access. The motion leaves you exposed, the cool air of the ship caressing the heated flesh, and the feeling makes a shiver run down your spine.

"Look at you," he murmurs. He lets out a low, satisfied sound, and you can't help the way you push into his touch. "So eager."

He dips his head and his tongue slides over your core, tracing a slow, torturous line to your clit. When he reaches it, he presses a wet, open-mouthed kiss to the throbbing bud. The feeling is almost too much, and your hips buck, trying to get away from the sensation.

"No, no, no," he says. "None of that."

His hand grips your hip, holding you still as he teases the bundle of nerves with his tongue. He traces circles around it, and when he sucks it into his mouth, the feeling makes your legs tremble.

"Oh, fuck," you moan, and your hands curl into fists, clutching at the blankets.

"Do you like that?"

"Yes," you gasp. "Feels good."

He hums, the vibration making your legs shake. "How about this?"

You suck in a breath as he presses his tongue flat against your clit, his lips wrapped around the throbbing bundle. His tongue strokes the sensitive flesh, and when he slides a finger inside you, your vision blurs.

"Oh, fuck, yes," you groan. "Yes, yes, please, just like that."

"Good," he says. His voice is a low rasp, and it makes heat pool in your belly. "You're doing so good for me."

Your walls clench around his finger, drawing him deeper, and he starts a slow, torturous pace, working his finger in and out of your dripping cunt.

"Please," you pant. "More. I need more."

"Like this?" he asks. He slides a second finger along with the first, stretching the delicate tissue. The burn is delicious, and it feels so good, the way his fingers fill you up. His mouth is hot and slick against you, and his tongue is dragging over the hard bud of your clit. His fingers thrust slowly, the motion gentle, and his scomp is holding you still, keeping you from pushing back against him.

The way he's forcing you to stay still, to let him do as he pleases, is sending a hot, tingling flush spreading over your skin. Your eyes squeeze shut, and your breath is coming in short, shallow pants, your entire body wound tight.

"Do you like that?" Echo murmurs, his lips brushing against the soft skin of your inner thigh.

"Yes," you manage. You can feel the heat rising inside you, the tension building in your belly, and your toes are starting to curl. "So much."

"Good girl," he says, and the words send a wave of warmth rushing through you. "You're being so good for me."

"Thank you," you pant. "Feels so good."

He hums in response as his scomp leaves your hip, and you feel the cold, metal appendage drag down the curve of your ass. It slides lower, until the tip of the metal is just barely pressing against the folds of your entrance. The feeling is foreign and strange, and the sensation makes you jerk.

"Is this okay?" he asks.

"Y-yes," you say. The sensation is unfamiliar, and the feeling of the cool metal against your core is making your muscles twitch. "Keep going."

He slides lower through your wet folds, and the motion is slow and deliberate. It's not like his fingers or his tongue, not quite the same. It's harder, cooler, less yielding, but the contrast is delicious, and it's making your legs tremble.

"That feels..."

"Weird?" he asks, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of your inner thigh.

"Not bad," you manage, and the words come out a bit strangled. "Different. Good."

"You want more?"

"Yes," you groan. Your hands tighten in the blankets, and the heat is starting to creep up your spine. "Yes, please."

He doesn't reply, just slides his scomp back up through the folds again, this time a little harder. The metal is smooth, and the tip is cool against your clit. He drags it over the hard bud, and the feeling makes a jolt of electricity shoot through you.

"Echo," you gasp.

"Shh," he says. His mouth is hot against your thigh, and his lips press a wet, sucking kiss to the sensitive flesh. "Just relax. Let me take care of you."

You nod, and your eyes slip shut. Your hands clench in the sheets, and the feeling of his mouth, of his fingers, of his scomp, is enough to drive all thoughts from your mind. Your head falls forward, resting against the bunk, and you can't help the soft, desperate sounds that fall from your lips.

Echo keeps up a steady rhythm, his fingers thrusting as his scomp presses patterns over the throbbing bundle of nerves. You can feel the pressure inside you growing, building, and the tension is so intense that it makes your legs shake.

"Please," you beg. "I need—"

"Shh," he soothes. "I know what you need. I'll take care of you."

You whimper, your body shaking, and the tension inside you is nearly unbearable. He keeps up a slow, steady pace, and you can feel your orgasm coiling, tightening inside you.

"I need—"

"Let go," he murmurs. He curls his fingers, pressing the tips against the bundle of nerves hidden inside you, and the feeling is enough to send you hurtling over the edge.

Your body goes rigid, your back arching, and your eyes slam shut as your orgasm crashes through you. The sensation is intense, almost painful, and the tension in your muscles is so strong that it's hard to breathe.

Echo doesn't stop, doesn't even slow. He keeps up the slow, steady pace, and it feels like hours pass before the aftershocks subside, leaving you limp and sated. Your head is spinning, and your lungs are burning as you try to catch your breath. Your release is slick and sticky on your thighs, and Echo's tongue slides over your skin, lapping it up.

"You're perfect," he murmurs. He trails a series of kisses over the swell of your ass, the tip of his nose tracing the line of your spine. "So beautiful."

Finally, Echo pulls away. He removes his fingers, and the sudden emptiness makes you gasp. You collapse forward, unable to hold yourself up any longer, and the sheets are cool and soft against your face. You're dimly aware of Echo shifting, his arm slipping under you, lifting you off the bed. He sits on the edge, holding you against him, chest to chest, and your legs fall to either side of his thighs.

"You okay?" he asks, his voice a low, husky whisper.

"I think so," you mumble. Your head is still spinning, and your limbs feel heavy, a pleasant lassitude spreading through your body. "Just need a minute."

Echo doesn't answer, just nods. He reaches up, brushing your hair away from your face. His fingertips trail over the shell of your ear, and the contact sends a shiver down your spine.

"You were so good," he murmurs. "Such a good girl."

The praise makes a hot flush spread over your cheeks, and you turn your face, hiding it in the crook of his neck.

"Don't," you mumble, the word muffled by his blacks.

"Don't what?" he asks. There's a note of amusement in his voice, and you know without looking that he's smiling.

"Don't tease me."

"But you liked it," he says. His arm tightens around your waist, and his other hand slides into your hair, gently cradling the back of your head. "And I meant every word."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," he says, and his hand moves, cupping your cheek. His thumb brushes over the soft skin, and he tilts your head up, leaning down to brush his lips against yours.

The kiss is soft and sweet, a gentle brush of lips, and it's almost enough to make your heart stop. Your hands move, reaching up and fisting in his blacks, and you pull him closer. You can taste yourself on his lips, the tangy-sweet flavor a sharp contrast to the lingering sweetness of the liquor.

When you pull away, the look on his face makes your heart skip a beat.

"You're staring," you murmur.

"Yeah," he says. He runs a thumb over the swell of your bottom lip, and the touch is soft, reverent. "You're beautiful."

"Flattery will get you everywhere."

"Good to know," he says, grinning.

You smile and reach up, tracing the line of his jaw. His skin is warm and soft under your fingers, and the stubble is a rough contrast to the smoothness of his cheek.

"I could stare at you forever," he says.

"I'm sure there's something else you'd rather be doing," you say, grinning.

"Maybe," he says. His eyes flick over your face, searching. "What about you? What would you rather be doing?"

"You," you say, and his lips twitch in a smile.

"Now who's the flatterer?"

"It's not flattery," you say, and his eyes are bright, the gold flecks in them glowing in the dim lighting. "I want you, Echo. More than I've wanted anyone in a long time."

"So what are we waiting for?" he asks.

"What, you don't want me to return the favor?" you tease, running a hand over his shoulder.

"I'd love that," he says, and his voice is a low rasp, his breath hot against your skin. "But later. Right now, I just want you."

"Well," you say, trailing your hand down his chest. "I'm not stopping you."

Echo smiles and leans down, his mouth finding yours. The kiss is soft, almost tentative, and it sends a bolt of heat straight through you. His lips are gentle against yours, and when his tongue traces the seam, you part for him.

The kiss deepens, and his tongue slides against yours, the slick, velvety muscle stroking yours. You can't help the soft, breathy sound that escapes your lips, and when his teeth nip at your bottom lip, your hands tighten in his blacks.

He lets out a soft grunt, his arm tightening around your waist, and he shifts, the movement rocking his hips forward. The friction makes a soft gasp escape your lips, and you can't help the way you press closer.

"Come on," you murmur, kissing a path along his jaw. You nip the skin, and his hips roll again, pushing up.

"Fuck, wait," he breathes. "Let me—"

You bite down, and his head falls back, exposing the column of his throat. You lean forward, nipping the skin, and the sound he makes is like a prayer.

"Come on," you say again, your teeth dragging over the skin.

"Kriff, wait," he groans, and his scomp is cool against the small of your back. "Just a second."

You pause, pulling away and looking at him.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he says, his breathing a bit ragged. "I just—it's been a while, okay?"

"A while?"

"Yeah," he says, and he's blushing, his cheeks turning a faint shade of pink. "A long while."

"So?"

"So," he says. He glances down at his lap, then back at you. "It's gonna be over embarrassingly fast if you keep doing that."

"Doing what?" you ask, unable to keep the grin from spreading across your face. "This?"

You lean forward, pressing a kiss to the soft skin just below his ear, and the action makes him suck in a breath. His hand comes up, sliding into your hair, and he guides you to the juncture of his neck and shoulder, his fingers tightening. You can't help the satisfied smile that crosses your face, and when you nip the tender skin, his hips buck, grinding against you.

"Come on," you whisper. You let your tongue slide over the skin, and his hand flexes in your hair. "You don't have to worry about me."

"That's not the point," he mutters, and his hand slides from your hair to grip your hip. "I want you to have fun."

"And I am," you murmur. You drag the tip of your tongue along the line of his throat, and the motion makes him groan. "Trust me, I'm having plenty of fun."

"You're not worried about—about..."

"About what?" you ask. "About finishing early? About getting off and leaving me hanging?"

"Yeah," he admits, his voice low. "Something like that."

"Why would I be? You already made me come," you say with a smile. "That was fun, remember?"

"Yeah," he says. His scomp slides over the curve of your ass, pulling you closer.

"Then why don't you let me have some more fun?" you murmur. You rock your hips forward, and the motion makes him groan. "Come on. Let me take care of you."

"Are you—"

"If I say it's fine, it's fine," you say. You press a line of kisses down his neck, pausing to nip the soft skin. "Stop worrying and just enjoy yourself."

"That's—"

"Easy for you to say," you finish, and he huffs out a breath.

"Come on," you murmur, nipping the skin. "Let go."

He doesn't say anything, just tugs your hips forward, grinding you against him. You can't help the soft gasp that slips past your lips, and the feel of him, even through the fabric, is delicious.

"Just like that," you whisper, your lips brushing over his jaw.

Echo rolls his hips again, and the friction is delicious. The pressure is almost too much, but his grip on you is tight, preventing you from pulling away. His mouth finds yours, his tongue sliding past your lips, and he licks into your mouth with a slow, wet slide. The kiss is messy and frantic, his tongue tracing the edges of your lips, the tip flicking over the roof of your mouth.

You moan at the feeling of his mouth on yours, the way he's taking what he wants, and the sound seems to spur him on. He surges forward, your back hitting the bed, and his body follows, covering yours. He braces himself, his weight on his elbows, his mouth never leaving yours. His tongue delves deeper, and the kiss is hard and messy, his teeth nipping at your bottom lip.

"You feel so good," he groans, his lips brushing over the soft skin. "Can I—"

"Yes," you interrupt, and he lets out a soft laugh.

"At least let me ask," he says. "It's polite."

"You’ve been very polite," you say. Your fingers trace over his ribs, and his abs clench beneath the soft touch. "But please, don't hold back anymore."

Echo pulls away, and the look on his face is enough to send a hot, tingling blush spreading over your cheeks. He's watching you with a mix of awe and desire, as his hand reaches down, fumbling with the clasp of his blacks.

"Do you need some help?" you tease, grinning.

"No," he says. His tone is firm, almost commanding, and the sound makes your stomach flip.

Echo finally manages to unclasp the garment, and his hand falls away, letting the blacks hang loose around his hips. He tugs them down, revealing the hard planes of his stomach, the sharp cut of his hips, and he slides off the bed and stands, kicking them away.

When he turns back to face you, his thumb hooks into the waistband of his briefs, and his eyes meet yours.

"You okay?" he asks.

"Are you seriously asking that question?"

"Just checking," he says. He hesitates, and the expression on his face is almost shy. "I'm not... I mean, I don't look like—"

"Echo, if you don't get your ass back over here and fuck me, I'm going to scream," you say, and he snorts.

"Alright, alright," he says. He tugs the briefs down his legs, and when his cock is free, it bobs, slapping against his abdomen. You try not to stare, but the sight of him is enough to make your core clench.

Your eyes widen, and the words die on your lips.

"Oh."

"Oh?"

"Uh-huh."

Echo steps closer, and the movement makes his cock bob again. The shaft is long and thick, the head a deep, dusky red, and the sight makes your mouth go dry. He's leaking, and when he gives himself a quick stroke, a bead of precum dribbles down the head, making the soft skin glisten.

"Fuck, you're pretty," you say, and his cheeks turn a faint shade of pink.

"You're one to talk," he murmurs, his gaze flicking over you. "I could stare at you all night."

You blush and shift, pulling your legs together. "I bet you say that to all the girls."

"No," he says, his voice soft. "Just you."

Your breath catches, and for a moment, neither of you speak.

"I should, uh, get a—"

"I have an implant,” you say, and he nods, swallowing.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," you murmur. "If you're good with it, I'm good with it."

"Yeah," he breathes, and his gaze is dark, heated. "Yeah, okay."

He hesitates for a moment before grabbing the neck of his blacks, and with a quick motion, he pulls the shirt off, dropping it onto the pile. You can't help the way your eyes roam over his body, taking in the sight of him.

His muscles are defined and well-defined, his arms and shoulders corded with lean muscle. The planes of his chest and abdomen are sharp, the lines of his muscles standing out in sharp relief under the scars that spread across his skin, and you can't stop yourself from reaching out and tracing a line over his ribs. You’re pleased to see he’s put on weight, the bones not so prominent, and there are some soft edges where there were none before.

He's beautiful, and for a moment, you're struck dumb by the sight of him.

Echo watches you, and the longer you stare, the more his muscles twitch, his nerves clearly getting the best of him.

"Sorry, you're just—you're really hot," you say. "It's a bit intimidating."

He lets out a soft huff of laughter, and his cheeks flush.

"Yeah, right," he says. He climbs onto the bunk and crawls toward you, his eyes locked on yours. When he reaches you, he settles himself between your legs, his forearms resting on either side of your head.

"If anyone's intimidated, it's me."

"Why's that?"

"Have you seen yourself?" he murmurs. He leans down, brushing his lips against yours. "You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen."

The words make your heart stutter, and you reach up, cupping his cheek. "You're just saying that because you want to get laid."

"I'm just saying it because it's true," he says, and the words are a quiet whisper against your lips.

He dips his head, and his mouth finds yours again. You can't help the soft moan that escapes, and the sound makes Echo's hips rock against yours. His cock brushes against your thigh, a warm, velvety weight, and the feel of him sends a wave of heat crashing through you.

Echo breaks the kiss and rests his forehead against yours, his breathing ragged. His hips move again, and this time, his cock drags against the folds of your core.

"What do you want?" he asks, his nose brushing over the swell of your cheek. "Tell me."

"You," you say, and your hands slide over his shoulders, clutching at his back. "Inside me. Now."

Echo doesn't answer, just shifts, sliding the thick head of his cock through the slick arousal coating your folds. When the tip brushes against the bundle of nerves nestled between the swollen flesh, your hips jerk, and a soft whine slips past your lips.

"Come on," you whisper, and your voice is a breathless, needy whimper. "Just—"

"Shh," he murmurs, his mouth finding yours. "I've got you."

He reaches down, gripping the base of his cock and guiding the head to your entrance. He doesn't move, doesn't thrust, just lets the tip rest there, a heavy weight against your core. The anticipation is almost too much, and you can feel the slick, heated flesh throb, clenching around nothing.

"Gods, Echo," you breathe. "Don't tease."

"You like it," he says, and his hand slides over your thigh, his fingers wrapping around your knee. He pulls it up, spreading you open, and his hips shift, his cock bumping your clit.

"Kriff, come on," you gasp, your back arching. "Don't—"

He doesn't wait for you to finish, just pushes forward. His cock is thick, the stretch almost too much, and the sudden feeling makes a soft, keening cry slip past your lips. He stills, and you can feel him trembling, the muscles in his shoulders quivering.

"Fuck, you're tight," he chokes out. "Just—hold still for a second."

You nod, and Echo lets out a shuddering breath, his head falling forward. His forehead presses against your shoulder, and his eyes slip shut. His hips twitch, and the motion makes his cock sink another inch inside you, the stretch making a soft whine slip past your lips.

"Shit," he breathes. "You're—I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't," you gasp.

He nods and shifts his hips, sliding a few inches deeper. His cock is thick and heavy, and the feeling of him stretching you is almost too much. The fullness is almost painful, but there's something delicious about the burn, and you can't help the way you twitch, trying to get closer.

"Fuck," he groans, and the word comes out strangled. "How are you so kriffing tight?"

"Sorry," you gasp. "Been a while."

"You're going to kill me," he murmurs, and his hips push forward again, the movement a slow, steady slide. "Just—fuck, you feel so good."

His words make a bolt of heat shoot through you, and the tension inside you is nearly unbearable. You can't help the way a soft whimper slips past your lips, and the sound makes his hips jerk, his cock sinking deeper.

"Shh," he whispers, his breath hot against your shoulder. His hand tightens on your knee, and the motion spreads you wider, allowing him to sink deeper. "I'll take care of you."

"Come on," you plead. Your hands slide over his back, the skin damp with sweat, and you can feel the muscles tense and relax under your touch. "I can take it."

"I know you can," he says, and his scomp strokes the curve of your hip. "You're being so good for me. Taking me so well."

The praise makes a shiver run down your spine, and his hips thrust again, pushing forward until he's buried to the hilt. The feeling is intense, the stretch a delicious ache, and your legs fall to either side, spreading to accommodate him.

"That's it," he murmurs. "Good girl."

You can't help the way the words make your core clench, and the feeling makes his breath catch.

"You like that, huh?" he asks, his mouth moving against the hollow of your throat. "Being told what a good girl you are?"

"Echo," you whine.

"Yeah," he breathes. "You do."

He lifts his head and kisses you, his tongue sliding against yours. The kiss is slow, languid, and his hand is gentle as he cups your cheek. His thumb strokes over your skin, the touch almost reverent, and the sweetness is such a stark contrast to the way he's buried deep inside you that it makes your head spin.

"Fuck, Echo," you gasp, the words muffled against his lips.

"So good for me," he says. His hand leaves your face and moves to your leg, pulling your knee up and pressing it toward your chest. Your ankle rests on his shoulder, and the position allows him to push deeper, his hips grinding against yours.

The new angle makes him slide against a spot hidden deep inside you, and the sudden rush of sensation makes your toes curl.

"Oh, fuck," you gasp. "Right there."

"Here?" he murmurs. He repeats the motion, his hips rolling against yours, and the feeling is so intense that your vision blurs.

"Yeah," you manage through a choked sob.

"That's it," he soothes, and his hand strokes the side of your thigh. "You're doing so good for me."

His hand moves from your leg to the bunk, and his weight presses down on you, his body covering yours. His movements are slow and deliberate, his hips grinding against yours. Each thrust is a steady, rolling grind, and the pressure is so intense that it takes everything in you not to break apart.

"Good girl," he murmurs, and his mouth finds yours. The kiss is messy, a contrast of hard and soft, and when his teeth nip at your bottom lip, the sharp pinch is a delicious counterpoint to the sweetness.

His hand leaves the bunk and slides into your hair, fisting the soft strands and holding you still. The grip is firm, but not rough, and the sensation is strangely erotic, sending a rush of heat coursing through you.

"Harder," you gasp, and he obeys, snapping his hips forward hard enough to punch the breath from your lungs. The new pace is harder, faster, and the slap of flesh against flesh is loud in the quiet of the ship.

"Fuck," he groans. "You feel so fucking good."

You don't reply, just moan, and his hand tightens in your hair. His teeth graze the line of your jaw, and the sudden bite of pain is so sharp and delicious that it makes your vision blur.

"God, yes," you groan. "Harder."

He lets out a soft grunt and thrusts forward, the force of the movement making the bunk creak. You can't help the strangled cry that slips past your lips, and the noise seems to spur him on, his hips driving against yours with a force that has the bed shaking.

"Echo," you gasp, and the word comes out in a desperate, keening whine. "Please, I need—"

"I know what you need," he whispers, and his hand falls away from your hair to brace himself above you. His scomp leaves your hip and trails between your bodies, the smooth, cool metal sliding over the sensitive bud of your clit. "And I'll give it to you. You just have to trust me."

"I do," you gasp.

"Yeah?" he murmurs, and his mouth moves to your throat. His lips trail a path down the delicate skin, his tongue darting out to taste you. "You trust me?"

"Yes," you manage.

"Good," he says, his breath hot against your skin, and the tip of his scomp presses against the hard bud, circling slowly. "I'm going to make you come. Hard. And when you do, I'm going to fuck you until you're sobbing. Can you take that?"

The words send a thrill of electricity through you, and the tension inside you is so strong that it makes your legs shake.

"Can you?"

"Yes," you manage.

"Good girl," he says, and his teeth nip at the skin below your ear. His scomp moves faster, the motion a steady circle over the throbbing bundle of nerves, and you gasp when you feel it start to vibrate.

"Oh, fuck," you groan. Your back arches, pushing your breasts against his chest. "What—have you always—"

"No," he says, his voice strained. "Never used it for this. Just for you."

"That's—fuck, Echo, please," you beg. Your eyes are squeezed shut, the pleasure so intense that you can't think straight.

"You like that?" he murmurs, and the vibration gets a fraction stronger. The feeling makes a wave of heat wash over you, your muscles clenching and twitching, and your head falls back, resting on the mattress.

"Yes," you gasp.

"You're so close, aren't you?"

"Fuck, Echo," you choke out, and your nails dig into his back, scratching at the skin. He moans at the feeling, his hips driving faster, and the combination of sensations is enough to send you hurtling over the edge.

Your orgasm hits you like a bolt of lightning, and the intensity of it makes your legs spasm, the muscles twitching uncontrollably. You can't control the sounds that are coming from your mouth, desperate gasps and soft, choked sobs, and it's only the feeling of Echo's mouth on yours, kissing the noises away, that keeps you from screaming.

"Oh, fuck," he groans against your mouth. "Just like that. So good for me. Let me hear you."

The words are a whispered prayer against your lips, and the praise makes another wave of heat crash through you. Your core clenches around his cock, and the sensation is so exquisite that it makes tears sting the corners of your eyes. True to his word, he doesn't let up, and his scomp never stops, the vibrations against the sensitive nub sending sparks of electricity shooting through you.

"Please," you sob, and the words are barely audible. "Please, too much."

"One more," he pants. His breathing is ragged, and his thrusts are growing harder, his hips snapping against yours. "Give me one more. Can you do that for me?"

"I don't—I can't—"

"You can," he says. "I know you can. You're being such a good girl for me. Come on. Give me one more."

You nod, unable to speak, and Echo rewards you with a kiss, his tongue sliding against yours. His hips are moving faster, losing any pretense of control, his pelvis grinding against yours with each forward snap of his hips. His scomp circles your clit, and the feeling is so intense that your limbs go numb, a tingling sensation creeping up your spine. You can feel the pressure inside you building again, coiling, and the tension is so strong that it feels like you're going to fly apart.

"Oh, fuck," you gasp, and the words are muffled against his mouth.

"Yeah," he groans. His thrusts are rough, almost desperate, and the movement rocks the bunk. "That's it. You're doing so well. I'm going to make you come all over my cock."

"Please, Echo." Your hands grip his back so hard that you're afraid you're going to leave bruises, and you can feel his muscles tense and release, shifting under the thin layer of sweat-slick skin. "Please."

"I know," he says. His voice is low, husky, and his lips brush over the shell of your ear. "Come on, sweetheart. Be a good girl and come for me."

The words are your undoing. You can't hold back any longer, and with a loud cry, you tumble over the edge, falling headfirst into the blinding, white-hot pleasure that's coursing through you.

This time, your orgasm is too much to contain, and a scream rips from your throat, the sound echoing off the walls. Your back arches, and your legs twitch, a violent tremor wracking your frame as a hot flood of liquid spills from your core. The force of your release is enough to push Echo's cock from your body, and a wet gush follows, coating his stomach and dripping down your thighs.

"Oh, fuck," Echo chokes out. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, and his scomp falls away, slamming down beside your head, bracing himself. "Fuck, I'm—"

He doesn't finish the thought, just fumbles for his cock, gripping the base. It only takes a few quick strokes before he's coming, a loud groan escaping his lips. The first pulse hits your stomach, followed by a second, and a third, and the sensation makes a choked moan slip past your lips. He lets out a low groan, his hips twitching, and his cock dribbles the last few drops of his cum, painting a thick line over your skin.

Through your blurry vision, you see Echo's mouth is open, his eyes wide as he stares down at you, and the sight is so sweet, so genuine, that you can't help the breathless huff of laughter that slips past your lips.

"Kriff," he pants. His hand drops to the bunk, and he props himself up on trembling arms. The two of you stay frozen for a moment, chests heaving, your expressions a mirror of each other's shock.

"Fuck," Echo finally chokes out. "Are you okay?"

You nod, unable to form a coherent thought. You let your head fall back against the mattress, and the movement makes a drop of his cum run down your breast, dripping off the underside and falling to the sheets.

"Did I—"

"So good," you manage, and the words are a slurred mumble. He nods, swallowing, and then he turns, collapsing onto the bunk next to you. He lets out a noise somewhere between a groan and a laugh, and when you glance over, he has his forearm draped over his eyes, his chest still heaving.

"Fuck," he breathes. "Oh, fuck."

"What?" you ask. You try to shift, but the feeling of his cum cooling on your stomach and chest is a distracting, sticky sensation, and you're not entirely sure if your limbs are still attached.

"I, uh," he starts. Echo huffs out another small laugh as his arm falls away, and his head lolls to the side, his eyes finding yours. "That was the hottest thing I've ever seen. I don't even—you're—that was incredible."

"I can't feel my toes," you admit, and the confession makes him laugh.

"Yeah?"

"I'm serious," you say. "Like, are they still there? Is anything still there?"

He rolls onto his side, making a show of looking you over, and when his gaze lands on the mess covering your abdomen, he sucks in a sharp breath.

"Yeah," he murmurs, his eyes darkening. "They're still there. Everything's still there."

"You look smug," you say.

"Can't imagine why," he says, grinning. He reaches out, tracing a finger through the cooling mess on your skin, and the gentle caress makes a shiver run down your spine. "Fuck, look at you."

"Yeah?"

"You're a mess," he says, and he grins, leaning forward. He kisses you, his lips soft against yours, and when he pulls away, he looks a fraction more composed. "Let me clean you up."

Echo sits up, swinging his legs off the bed, and the movement makes his back muscles ripple, the motion a fluid, graceful flex of sinew and tendon. You can't help the way the sight makes your heart skip a beat, and you have the sudden urge to wrap your arms around him and bury your face in his back, to cling to him and never let him go.

"Are you okay?" he asks, looking over his shoulder at you. "Does anything hurt?"

"No," you say, shaking your head. "Everything feels... really good."

His answering grin is more self-satisfied than you're used to seeing, and the expression is so charming that you can't stop the affectionate roll of your eyes.

"Don't look so pleased with yourself," you tease.

"Hey," Echo says, getting to his feet. "I think I earned it."

"I guess so," you murmur, and he chuckles, shaking his head.

"Come here," he says, turning. He tugs you upright and wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you against his chest. The sudden motion makes a laugh bubble up in your throat, and he flashes you a grin, his arms tightening around you. He leans down, his mouth finding yours, and the kiss is sweet and tender, his lips moving over yours with a languid, easy affection.

"What's gotten into you?" you ask when he pulls away.

"You," he smirks, tilting his head. "Or I got into you. Something like that."

"Oh, shut up," you laugh, and you shove his shoulder. He smiles, a wide, crooked grin that makes your heart stutter.

"Come on," he says. He pulls away, grabbing your hip and turning you around, guiding you toward the fresher. "Let's get you cleaned up."

"I can do it," you protest, but his arm wraps around your waist, holding you close.

"I know.”

He doesn't elaborate, just steers you toward the fresher. You lean your hip against the sink while he turns on the shower, and you let him tug you inside, his scomp hooking the handle and closing the door behind the two of you. The water is cool, but it's not unpleasant, and the droplets feel nice against your heated skin.

Echo washes you with a gentleness that takes your breath away, and the tenderness is so at odds with the man you thought you knew. His touch is careful, almost reverent, and there's a quiet intensity in the way he traces the lines and angles of your body with his hand and his scomp, the movements slow and deliberate. He pays special attention to the space between your thighs, the touch firm but still gentle, and the sensation makes you bite back a whimper.

"Shh," he soothes, and his mouth finds the hollow of your throat. He kisses the delicate skin, and the gesture is so sweet that it makes your chest ache.

"Why are you doing this?" you whisper.

"Because I want to," he says, and his thumb swipes over the swell of your breast. "And because you deserve it."

"Deserve it?" you ask as his mouth trails up your neck.

"Yeah," he murmurs. His hand slides up your ribs, and his fingers cup your breast, the palm covering the soft, supple flesh. It's a gentle touch, almost absentminded, and the intimacy of the gesture is so startling that it makes your breath catch.

"Why would you say that?" you whisper.

"Because it's true," he says, and his mouth slides along your jaw, the kiss tender. "Because you deserve to be taken care of. Because I like taking care of you."

"You do?"

"I do," he says, and the words are spoken against the delicate skin just below your ear. "More than anything."

"But—"

"It's okay," he murmurs. "Stop overthinking."

You swallow and nod, and his touch is gentle as he finishes washing you. When you're both clean, Echo leaves you under the water to change the sheets, and you try to ignore the fact that your limbs are a bit unsteady without him.

The water starts to turn cold, and you quickly shut it off, squeezing some of the excess water from your hair. You step out of the shower and grab a towel, and you smile to yourself when you see your sleep clothes folded on the edge of the sink, Echo's handiwork evident in the perfect creases. You dry off quickly, and you're just pulling on your shorts when you hear the sound of the hatch opening and a pair of heavy footsteps rushing up the ramp.

“Echo!” Wrecker shouts, his voice frantic. The floor shakes slightly under your feet as he comes to a stop, and the hatch slides shut with a metallic clang.

You freeze, the fabric halfway up your thighs, and a bolt of panic shoots through you.

You can hear Echo outside of the fresher, and the rustle of fabric as he tosses the soiled linens to the side, followed by a few muttered curses.

"What?" he finally calls, his tone annoyed.

"There you are," Wrecker says.

"Where else would I be?" Echo snaps, and you can hear him tugging his blacks over his head.

"Crosshair said he lost track of you," Wrecker says, and you hear him walk across the ship. "Thought maybe you were in trouble. And we can't find Stitches. Have you seen her? She disappeared, and she's not answering her comm."

Your eyes go wide, and your stomach drops. Oh, fuck.

"Uh," Echo says, and you hear him shuffling around, the sounds a lot closer than they were before. "Yeah, she's here. She's just, um, taking a shower."

"Oh," Wrecker says. There's a long pause, and you can picture the look on his face, the puzzled frown as he tries to process the information. You can almost hear the gears turning in his brain, and you wait, holding your breath.

"We, uh, decided to head back," Echo explains after the silence has dragged on for a bit too long.

"Together," Wrecker adds. It isn't a question, but the note of suspicion is obvious, and Echo doesn't miss it.

"Yeah," Echo says, his voice strained. He clears his throat. "We were, uh, really tired. We were having a good time, but the club was really loud, and we just..."

He trails off, and you let out a quiet groan and press a hand to your face. You're tempted to leave the fresher, to make your presence known and get the conversation over with, but you can't quite bring yourself to open the door.

"Oh," Wrecker says again, and the way the word is drawn out makes you wince. You can practically hear the grin in his voice, and you know he's figured it out. "You guys had a good time, huh?"

"I mean, not like that," Echo says quickly, and you grimace.

"Uh huh.”

"We were just talking, and we decided to head back, and she was, um, she was drunk, and I was tired, and we were just gonna hang out and watch a holo or something."

"Right," Wrecker says, his tone knowing. "What holo were you gonna watch?"

"It’s uh…” Echo trails off, and a moment later, he lets out a sigh of defeat. You can’t help but laugh at that, the sound loud enough to echo off of the tile.

"Hey Stitches,” Wrecker calls out in greeting, and you roll your eyes and open the door.

"Hi Wrecker," you say, leaning against the door frame.

"Did you have a good time?" he asks with a wide grin.

"Yeah," you say, and you can't help the way your eyes flick to Echo. "We had a really good time."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," Echo echoes. His eyes meet yours, and the expression on his face is soft, a tiny smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. You smile back, unable to keep the happiness from welling up inside you.

"Yeah," you say. You can't help the way you feel yourself blush, the heat rising in your cheeks. "It was, uh, really good."

Wrecker's grin widens, and he glances at Echo, giving him a thumbs-up. Echo blushes, his cheeks turning pink, and his shoulders lift in a small shrug.

"That's good," Wrecker says, beaming. "I'm happy for you guys."

"Thanks, Wrecker," you laugh. "Sorry for making you worry."

"It's okay." He waves a hand. "I'm glad you two had a good time. It's about time."

"Wrecker," Echo groans, and Wrecker lets out a loud guffaw.

"What? I'm not wrong." He looks between the two of you, his smile growing wider. "We've all been rooting for you two. We were starting to get a little worried, honestly. I thought I was gonna have to lock you guys in a closet or somethin'."

Echo lets out a groan and buries his face in his hand, and the sight is so comical that you snort a laugh.

"Sorry to keep you waiting," you say dryly.

"Nah, don’t apologize.” Wrecker pauses, his expression thoughtful. "Well, actually, maybe apologize to Crosshair. He's not too happy about this, since it means he lost the bet."

"The bet?"

"Oh yeah," Wrecker says. "We had a running bet on when you guys would finally hook up. Crosshair thought it would take you until at least next month, so he's pretty pissed."

"You guys were betting on us?" you ask, aghast. Echo's hand slides down his face to cover his mouth, and in his eyes is a mixture of mortification and disbelief.

"Hey, don't look at me," Wrecker says, holding his hands up in defense. "I was for you two from the start. I had last month."

"For fuck's sake," Echo mutters, and he leans against the bulkhead and stares at the ceiling, shaking his head. "Just kill me now."

"Who won?" you ask.

"Hunter," Wrecker grumbles, and he lets out a huff. "He has an unfair advantage, if you ask me."

You and Echo exchange a glance, and Echo shakes his head, looking resigned.

"Don't worry, though," Wrecker continues. "We're all glad you two are finally together."

"Yeah, well, thanks, Wrecker," Echo mutters, and Wrecker beams.

"No problem. Anyways, I’m gonna head back to the club," he says, winking. “You guys enjoy the rest of your night.”

"Sure," Echo groans, his head thumping against the bulkhead.

"Oh, we will," you say, and you shoot Echo a wicked grin. He meets your gaze, his eyes widening and his cheeks going pink before a slow smile tugs at the corner of his mouth.

"That's my girl," Wrecker crows. He grins and waves before turning on his heel and heading down the ramp. The hatch opens with a hiss, and you listen as the sound of his boots fades into the distance.

The silence is a welcome relief, and the tension seems to leave Echo's shoulders, the muscles relaxing. He takes a step toward you, his scomp reaching out to pull you close, and the motion is so sweet and natural that it makes a wave of emotion rise up inside you.

"Hey," you whisper.

"Hey."

"So," you start slowly. "That was fun."

"I'm sorry," he sighs. "If you wanted to keep it quiet, I'll talk to them."

"No, it's okay," you say, smiling. "I think it's nice."

"You do?"

"Yeah," you say. You reach up and wrap your arms around his neck, tugging him down for a quick kiss. "And I'm kind of proud that you're finally mine."

"Finally?" he asks, a smile tugging at his mouth.

"Well, yeah," you say. You press a kiss to his throat, right above his pulse, and his chest rumbles with a contented hum. "I've been interested in you since day one."

"Really?"

"You're kind of hard to resist," you admit, and he huffs out a soft laugh.

"Trust me, the feeling is mutual."

"Well, I'm glad you're not fighting it anymore."

"Me too," he murmurs. His arms wrap around you, pulling you closer, and he leans down and brushes his lips over yours. The kiss is tender, affectionate, and his hand trails over your lower back in a gentle caress.

You pull back, and his forehead dips to rest against yours, his breathing steady.

"Do you wanna watch that holo?" you ask, and he huffs a laugh.

“Sure.”

You grab your datapad and settle onto the bunk, and Echo curls up beside you, wrapping an arm around your waist. His touch is warm and comforting, and the feeling is enough to make your chest ache.

You put on a mindless holodrama, some action flick that's probably more entertaining if you've actually seen the other movies in the series. You don't mind, though. The plot isn't that interesting, and the acting is pretty bad. What really draws your attention is the feel of Echo pressed against your side, the weight of his arm draped over your waist, and the rise and fall of his chest as he breathes. It's comfortable, and intimate, and just what you both need.

And if, during the holo, Echo's hand starts creeping up your shirt, and his mouth starts tracing the curve of your jaw, well, that's nobody's business but yours.

Taglist: @baddest-batchers @covert1ntrovert @stellarbit @bruh-myguy-what @qvnthesia

@spicy-clones @kindalonleystars @cw80831 @totallyunidentified @heidnspeak

@lovelytech9902 @frozenreptile @chocolatewastelandtriumph @etod @puppetscenario

@umekohiganbana @resistantecho @dindjarins1ut @tech-aficionado @aynavaano

@burningnerdchild @ihatesaaand @lolwey @hobbititties @mere-bear

@thegreatpipster @lordofthenerds97 @tentakelspektakel @notslaybabes @mali-777

@schrodingersraven @megmegalodondon @dangraccoon @dreamie411 @sukithebean

@bimboshaggy @anything-forourmoony @9902sgirl @jedi-dreea @salaminus

@ghostymarni @gottalovehistory @burningnerdchild @yoitsjay @callsign-denmark

@julli-bee @sonicrainbooms @captn-trex @feral-ferrule @webslinger-holland

@marchingviolist @deerspringdreams

#hides under my desk #ive got nothing to say to defend myself actually #also it’s my HC that Echo turns into red shirt Ron Swanson after he has sex #he can’t stay grumpy after all that #echo x reader #tbb echo #tbb echo x reader #arc trooper echo #the bad batch #the bad batch x reader #tbb echo x you #clone x reader #echo x you #arc trooper echo x reader #roy writes

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moodymisty · 4 months

Note

HI IF REQUESTS ARE STILL OPEN WHEN IM SENDING THIS:

Did you know that multiple species of bats have been known to orally stimulate their partners before having sex? It apparently increases fertilization chances and overall quality of sex. Which I mean yeah it's foreplay, that's what it's meant to do, but it's interesting to note a nonhuman species doing it.

Anyway the point of this was to request if you could combine that fun bat habit with the ask about Konrad edging his partner?

Also feel free to store that Fun Bat Fact™️ for use in other Night Lord fics, if you want to. I'm always a sucker for astartes/Primarchs having behaviors/tendencies from some of the nonhuman DNA that was used to create them.

Author's note: yum yum Konrad time

Relationships: Konrad/Fem!Reader

Warnings: NSFW, Konrad in general, Oral (female receiving), Kind of breeding kink

“Konrad, Konrad please…”

Your hand weakly tries to pull at the one holding you down, his palm pressing you hard into the bed. But he's so far beyond stronger than you, that it's a fruitless gesture.

You don’t know how long it’s been. It could only have been ten minutes for all you know, but it feels like it’s been hours. Your body cries out in an overstimulated, aching mess- legs quivering as they lay over his shoulders.

Your thighs ache in pain from the bites lining them, some just dents and others bleeding. You know you’ll need something for them, and you can only hope the medicae with let you get away with being vague and turning the other way about giving you things has they were last time. They'll watch you hobble away knowing that Konrad even at his most gentle is nearly breaking you, but they won't say anymore than the medicines you need to heal those wounds.

“Konrad!”

His tongue brushes over your abused, sore clit for the millionth time and the ensuing rush of sensation as your body writhing, only what isn’t held down by him. Your cunt throbs and aches with an emptiness he has no intention on filling right now as you suffer and cry underneath him.

You want him to stop; You're sweating, tired and aching, but there's no chance you can free yourself from him. You can only writhe underneath his hold as his mouth presses against your cunt, tongue lapping against your folds and teeth catching your skin. He's rough- and you've lost count of the times he's brought you just to the very edge of cumming against his face, only to slow and pull you back away from it. It's infuriating; It's made you angry, it's making tears roll down your face as you beg for him to stop it or just let you finally finish.

But this always happens roughly once a month. You have a feeling as to why, but you don’t know how it makes you feel.

In the heat of the moment you’d love nothing more than to give him a child, but then the oftentimes nightmare of your reality with him sets in. That his moments of quiet and softness are only a single star in a void of black nothingness.

But you know at this point he isn’t going to stop until it takes, and you don’t have much option than to go along for the ride. Konrad has his nails and teeth dug too deeply into you to allow escape at this point, and even if you did manage to free yourself, you don't know if you even could gather the will to leave him. You love him too much to do that, you know it.

The nails of his other hand dig into the skin of your thigh as he continues to lap at your folds roughly, feeling the way your body tenses underneath him. You can't really see him in the dark room, only the outline of his massive body. But you can feel him, the brushing of his hair against your skin and the way his tongue prods against your entrance before he pulls his mouth away.

"Konrad please, what do you want? Just let me-"

He watches you with those dark, black eyes of his, you just know he is, as he takes away that hint of relief you were so close to. Your heels hit his shoulders and he dares to laugh at you, as if your tears and your sweat and begging are nothing more than amusing to him.

You know they are; He enjoys watching you suffer when your body needs it the most, until your thighs are as slick as the tears on your cheeks. He doesn't want to physically break you, at least not yet, so he's found a safer, gentler way to torment you.

Konrad pulls away, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He’s wearing no shirt, and the rough linen of his trousers are easy for him to pull down past the v of his hips and reveal his cock that has been hard and aching for hours.

Once he does, he grabs your hips and roughly tugs you closer to him, and he smiles at the squeal you make as you feel him press against your thigh.

“Come here my little dove, let’s see if it takes this time.”

#the fucking nightmare scenario of konrad being the one to knock you up like oh NO???#but this isn't reality so <3 #konrad curze x reader #primarch x reader #warhammer 40k x reader #reader insert #reader #mywriting

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mellowsadistic · 6 months

Text

Couples Therapy - Part 1

After Angela cheats on her husband, she agrees to go to couples therapy with him, but each session with the therapist leaves her feeling less and less like a grown-up.

***

Angela tapped her foot impatiently while her husband spoke with the therapist privately, probably whining about how angry and betrayed he felt. They were both supposed to go in together in a moment, but for now she was stuck waiting in reception.

Really, she couldn’t understand why Eric was being so dramatic. It was only sex! It wasn’t as though she didn’t love him anymore. She just needed to have a little fun sometimes, that was all. They weren’t even thirty yet! He was twenty-eight and she was twenty-seven. Did he really expect her to settle down and stick to a single sexual partner when she was still so young?

But he’d insisted on seeing a marriage counsellor and she’d eventually agreed, albeit reluctantly. Their therapist was a man. How was he supposed to understand what it was like for a woman in her situation? And her first impressions of the office hadn’t been great either. The receptionist was a total bimbo!

Angela glanced over at her. She was dressed up like some bizarre fetish fantasy. Her long blonde hair was tied up in a pair of high pigtails, and her stripper-sized tits were crammed into a sparkly Disney princess top. Didn’t this place have a uniform? She looked like an overgrown six-year-old for goodness sake! And she’d been acting like one too when she’d tried to match their names to their booking. Her husband had been very patient with her stupid lisping voice and barely passable ability to read, but Angela had wanted to turn around and leave straight away. What kind of serious therapist’s office employed a woman like that?

At last the door opened, and the therapist stood in the doorway. He smiled kindly and gestured her to come inside.

“He’s weady for you now!” the bimbo receptionist chirped happily, looking up from what looked like a fashion magazine for tweens.

Angela rolled her eyes. “Thanks.”

She went into the office and the therapist closed the door behind her. Eric was lounged on a sofa facing a hard-backed wooden chair, looking perfectly relaxed. Angela sat down next to her husband, leaving a few inches of space in between them.

The therapist didn’t take a seat in the wooden chair, however. He took a tablet from his desk in the corner and stood in front of Angela.

“Here,” he said, handing it to her. She looked down at the screen in her lap in confusion. What was this for? Some sort of presentation?

“I find that girls always get a bit nervous in my office,” he said, talking to her in a light, overly friendly tone, as if he was talking to a nursery-schooler. “This will help you relax, okay sweetie?”

Angela scowled. She was about to launch into a furious tirade. She couldn’t stand being talked down to! Who the hell did this man think he was? If he assumed most women were like his ditzy receptionist then he had another thing coming. But before she could say a word, the tablet in her lap came to life. Brilliant pastel colours swirled and spiralled on the screen, sinking into a single spot in the centre, and her complaints died in her throat. She couldn’t take her eyes off it. It was just so pretty…

“There we go,” said the therapist in that same sweet tone. “That always takes care of fussy little girls.”

“Is there anything I have to do?” Eric asked.

Angela felt strange. She was vaguely aware of the men’s words, but it was as though they were coming to her from the end of a very long tunnel. Her attention was focused on the dazzling lights on the screen.

“Not a thing. Let me do all the talking. Did you hear that, Angela? We’re going to have a little talk, okay sweetie? Nothing to be nervous about. I’m a trained professional, after all. We need to have a little talk about how you betrayed your husband. About how he found out you were cheating on him. Because that wasn’t very clever of you, was it Angela? Getting caught.”

Angela shook her head, not taking her eyes off the screen. “Not clever,” she echoed. It was true. She shouldn’t have been caught. She should have been more careful not to let him find out. Because even though there was nothing wrong with what she’d done, even though she was completely in the right, Eric wouldn’t understand.

“That’s right, Angela,” said the therapist. “You’ve been a very dumb bitch, haven’t you?”

Angela frowned. That didn’t sound right. Dumb bitch. Was it okay for the therapist to call her that?

“Look at the pretty sparkles, sweetie,” he encouraged, and Angela sank back into the swirling lights. “That’s right. You’re just a dumb bitch, Angela. All women are, but you especially. That’s okay though. You don’t know any better – you’re just girls.”

Angela knew vaguely that there was something she didn’t like about what the man was saying, but she was too engrossed in the swirling colours to care. His words were like background noise. She could understand them if she concentrated, but it was so hard to focus with the wonderful patterns in front of her.

“Yes, you’re just a girl, Angela. Just a silly little girl. A big child. It doesn’t matter if you do something wrong, because you can’t be held accountable for your actions, can you? You’re sweet and innocent.”

Angela nodded eagerly, a dim smile spreading across her face. She hadn’t done anything wrong. If she wasn’t so distracted by her tablet, she’d have smirked at Eric. His stupid attempt to guilt-trip her with marriage counselling was backfiring on him. The therapist was on her side.

“Besides,” the therapist continued. “You didn’t cheat on your husband anyway, did you Angela?”

Angela was confused. She had cheated on Eric. Was the therapist going to help her cover it up? But Eric already knew, didn’t he? Surely that wouldn’t work! The lights on the screen grew brighter. They were so, so pretty…

��You didn’t,” the therapist said again. “In fact, it’s completely impossible for you to have cheated on your husband. You know why, I’m sure. It’s because of your embarrassing bedwetting habit.”

Angela wrinkled her nose and started trying to shake her head in disgust. She didn’t wet the bed! The therapist must be confused. He must be mixing her up with some little girl. Maybe one of his other clients was some silly little bedwetter who needed to be reassured that everyone had accidents now and again, but that certainly wasn’t her.

“Don’t… I don’t wet the bed…” she mumbled. Her words felt heavy in her mouth. It was hard to think. She just wanted to watch the pretty swirling lights.

“Look at the colours, sweetie,” the therapist told her. “That’s a good girl. You are a bedwetter, Angela. You wet the bed every night. You have done for quite a few weeks now. And what man would want to sleep with a woman who still pisses herself in her sleep like a dumb toddler? You’re very lucky your husband puts up with your babyish behaviour, young lady.”

Angela’s face slackened as the spirals spun faster and faster. Lucky. She was a lucky girl. She was lucky to have a husband who put up with her bedwetting. Another man might leave his wife if she started peeing herself every night. Especially if she’d cheated on him too. But Eric didn’t know about that. Did he? It was strange. For a while Angela had been sure he did. And the therapist didn’t seem to know either. In fact, he thought it was impossible for a bedwetter like her to cheat on her husband! She blushed even more brightly. How had she done it? Angela frowned slightly. She didn’t know. She couldn’t remember clearly. But the therapist was right – who’d want to have sex with some stupid, bedwetting baby-woman? Why would anyone sleep with her when it meant waking up in piss-soaked sheets, or next to someone in a sopping wet diaper. Her special protection. Her baby pants. Was the therapist still talking? She tried to pay attention.

“…because your husband puts up with you in other ways too, doesn’t he?” he was saying. “It’s not just the bedwetting. You actually have quite a few silly, childish behaviours that no adult woman should reasonably be expected to have. You…”

Angela tuned out again. She could feel his words entering her ears, but her attention was focused entirely on the lights in her lap. So pretty. Such pretty lights…

When she came to, the tablet was gone, Eric was standing up and putting his coat on, and the therapist was looking at her with a satisfied expression on his face. Had she fallen asleep?

“Ready to go home?” Eric asked her brightly.

Angela smiled back, a little hesitantly. She’d thought she was in trouble, but maybe she’d just been confused. She was such a silly girl sometimes. Such a dumb bitch.

Eric held out his hand, and she took it. It felt nice to be holding onto him. It felt reassuring. He held her hand all the way back to their house, and while he walked, she couldn’t help herself from skipping along beside him.

#mellowsadistic

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feefymo · 3 months

Note

Omg loved this fic game =D

Let's go:

Kit Walker

Spanking kink

Third element: coping mechanism after Briarcliff

Dear anon, hi! I hope this time is the right time: I've been trying to post the fic based on your three requests since I still had baby teeth but Tumblr says "nuh-uh". Fingers crossed and let's have some fun!

"Nnnnot again. Enough, fuck... !" You heard Kit hiss through clenched teeth - so clenched he could have cracked them - so you stopped what you were doing and a shiny string of your saliva broke. For the first few seconds you had a bewildered expression but it didn't last long because you knew the problem. So, worry set in. The anguish of seeing your husband perpetually frustrated, so exasperated that you feared he might become seriously ill at any moment. You timidly raised a hand to your mouth and wiped it away as you peered at his tense form in the grass of your yard. July set Massachusetts on fire and so did you who lived there. For his part, Kit was sweating but not because he was enjoying the summer or your skimpy attentions. You, now kneeling between his legs, silently observed his sore and reticent sex as you pressed your tongue against the taste that remained in your mouth. It had never been easy between you two.

When he was free to leave Briarcliff there was no shortage of skeptics but you - who knew him from before - had never, ever doubted his innocence. You had loved him before he could even discover it and your dream of being loved back had come true. Obviously, Kit Walker was no longer the carefree, heartthrob boy he once was but you didn't care. The problem with sex had emerged almost immediately after he returned to "normal" and the thing that really drove him crazy was the fear that you didn't think he was involved enough. He never failed to satisfy you, no man had ever considered you with such concern but he... he was stuck. Stuck in the loop of some trauma he suffered that he didn't talk about. And you didn't dare ask. You just wanted to see him more peaceful. "My love..." you started in a syrupy voice before being interrupted by his fist tearing a tuft of grass. Kit let out a lamentation and shook his head before sitting up and looking at you with desperate, shaded eyes. The irises melted like chocolate on his sharp features. "No, come on. Don't tell me it doesn't matter, don't tell me it will be better next time. Don't tell me not to force myself, please." yet another demonstration that he knew you and listened to you, you closed your mouth and sighed. You made sure you had permission and caressed his cheek, a gesture he appreciated and settled against. He closed his eyes for just a moment. "I love you, I'm tired of... I need reciprocity, complicity but the problem is me. I'm a broken toy now, aren't I?" as it rarely did, your expression hardened and you had to grab onto your skirt to dispel your anger. "Don't you dare call yourself "broken", that's unfair. Did you hear me, Kit Walker? Never again." and Kit knew you didn't see him the way he saw himself but that biting severity hit him. It disoriented him because... he liked it. He stared at you with a vaguely lost look, while a monster now familiar to him mounted in his chest. He had been suppressing it since the moment you had met again but he was struggling to keep it at bay and his member hinted at his secret. It pulsed, forcing Kit to palm it. "Y/N, you see, I..." he was torn, you could see it in him. "Kit, together we will get through this too. Okay? But I can't keep quiet if you denigrate yourself like this. I just want you too to experience the well-being that you are able to give me. I want to make you feel good, there's something on your mind. .. can it work? Maybe you don't want to tell me, are you afraid that I will judge you? That it'll scare me?" at that point, Kit just flinched, as if he had actually been caught killing a poor woman in a brutal way. This made you realize that yes, there was something but he had never allowed it to surface. "Fine. I don't know if it's the solution, don't..." he sighed "Come with me. Let's go back to the kitchen." The house was burning and so was the wait your husband was subjecting you to. He needed to find the right way to communicate and you would put him at ease so, standing still, you began to drop your blouse and skirt onto the clean floor. Dressed only in lingerie with sage green embroidery, you caught Kit's lustful gaze, which resembled a hybrid between a free beast and a weak prey. In captivity. "Holy God, suga': you're breathtaking, I don't deserve you." "Kit." you took half a threatening step forward, showing a certain vehemence towards his victimhood. He wasn't interested, he wasn't mortified, on the contrary: he looked you up and down as if dazed. The right hand rubbing on the open fly of his jeans.

"Tell me how to make you come, Mr. Walker. Now." Now cornered, Kit bowed his head and swallowed dryly. He didn't say a word until he had a broom in his hand which, shortly after, he passed to you. "Take it." he murmured, unable to hide a veil of shame. You hesitated for a moment but then complied, studying the object. “As you know, in Briarcliff I took corporal punishment. I took it often, so often that… something clicked. I had to defend myself, survive. Y/N, I started to like the caning. I hated it, and yet… my body reacted with enthusiasm. Perhaps this..." The more Kit explained, the more you regretted having imposed yourself so confidently. Did he want you to cause him pain? Was that the way to fix the mechanism? "You're scared, I understand. You don't have to, there's a reason I never asked." "It... it's not healthy. I would never want to see you suffer, if I indulge you I contribute to..." you took a breath, left the sentence hanging. You both knew everything that even silence conveyed. "Go to the table and lean on it. Turn around." suddenly, you changed voice in a calm but merciless tone: you were giving brief orders. For a moment, Kit had to store your words but a gasp writhed in his throat and he hurried to comply. "Take down your pants and underwear." you moved barefoot, it was almost impossible to hear. "Moreover." you grabbed onto his jeans and tugged at them, causing your husband to exhale violently through his nostrils. Now, he was staring at you over his shoulder and his eyes were shining pleadingly. He breathed violently and, in a certain sense, you too followed that syncopated rhythm. "Punish me. Punish me for all the times I couldn't get inside you. That I couldn't stay there. Please." you despised that compromise, and yet, the idea of reaching a solution entered your core and made it crackle. You didn't know the practice but you were tired of waiting and Kit looked like he was about to implode, so you passed the broom handle over Kit's buttocks with the delicacy of a Judas kiss. Then, without warning him, you loaded the blow and dealt it to him. While you jumped in fright, he arched up moaning darkly. He seemed absurdly… relieved. With his hands wide open on the wood in search of balance, the man nodded vigorously and you caned him again. This time, his legs trembled and an animalistic cry pierced the daytime heat. Now resting on his elbows, he whispered darkly, "M-more." annihilated by the scenario in front of you, you were the victim of widespread tingling. Your panties had become soaked without you realizing it. It wasn't the violence that excited you but the way Kit reacted to that. "Are you...are you getting wet? You're wet, I can see it from here." yet another blow came unexpectedly, immediately followed by a soothing: "ssssh...". Breathless, with his eyeballs rolling to the ceiling, Kit had to press his cock against the table. The live, pulsating erection was in need of the friction that Kit found in contact with the support that endured his weight. "God, my God, suga', how do you do it... get Sister Jude out of my fuckin' head. Again. Again!" teeth sealed in a roar and fingers scurrying off his tank top as your pussy cried out hungrily. You came closer and touched the reddened flesh and then tightened it in a vice that forced Kit to bark in pain and pleasure. He quickly brought his hand to his length and ran along it with uncontrolled ardor but, victim of yet another beating, he had to go back to holding on to the table.

Now bent at a right angle with one cheek on the surface, he was panting uncontrollably and you were unable to resist the temptation: you grabbed onto his hips and pushed yourself against his ass. “Oh, fuck… fuck, Y/N I’m about to come… ff-…” Kit, in the throes of adrenaline, found the strength to turn around and pounce on you. You both fell to the floor, kissing as if you were going to bite each other off while he dodged the obstructing fabric and entered you without grace.

He filled you with such voracity that an incredulous, breathless laugh left your jaws. Kit was destroyed, distraught, a toxic flame that hit you with its impetuosity. "Yes... yes, my love, yes... do it hard! Strong as my sti-AH!" your husband, firm on his knees, sucked in his lower lip, holding your hips as he slipped out of you to re-enter with even more urgency. "Jesus Christ, Y/N, I have to fill you..." and on the last letter, the thrusts of that brief embrace became frantic, taking both of you by surprise with a stunning orgasm. An expression of disbelief built on Kit's face. His eyelids narrowed and his Adam's apple threatened to tear his throat open as the hot spurts of his seed invaded you as promised. The lips swollen and wide open in a silent cry. Desperate and euphoric. He soon leaned over you, grabbing your breasts as he continued to move and slide into you. You, who didn't remember the sensation and who, entranced by the mere image of Kit, had the impression of going crazy with ecstasy. Coming, clinging to the soft curls of the love of your life, you trembled with such force that it nauseated you. Tightly wrapped around his veiny cock, you had never reached such a climax and neither did he.

#evan peters #american horror story #evan peters fanfic #ahs asylum #kit walker #feefymo

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familyabolisher · 8 months

Note

Elaborate on poor things? Haven’t seen it, just curious

i think caden does a great job at getting at the heart of a lot of its problems here. some of my own thoughts on top:

for a piece which clearly wants to work with the materials of frankenstein and dabbles in broader gothic tropes especially in its final plot beats, it really just -- it wasn't very fucked up at all! i think probably the worst thing we saw happen was bella killing a frog in the first half hour. the gore was unspectacular and the plot was profoundly low-stakes -- the film utterly fails in crafting any kind of a sense of tension, such that you're never really afraid for (or of!) bella, never seriously concerned that something bad is actually going to happen. it was all just a fun little romp through europe.

the humour was either just straight-up asking the audience to laugh at how a character telegraphed as disabled moves and communicates, or, like, marvel-type jokes that felt unnatural and forced. i don't think a single joke landed for me. it's not a black comedy because it's not black enough and it's not a straightforward comedy either because it is simply not funny. a better version of this film would've been a) more fucked up and b) funnier, with those two elements complementing one another very well, but -- well. Sad!

lanthimos thinks that making big, unwieldy gestures towards every discourse of the nineteenth century he can think of is the same as interfacing with them at the narrative level. we've got: science and religion! class struggle! sex work! humanism! enlightenment idealism giving way to socialist thought! misogyny! we've got class inequality and a very faint outline of imperialism, helpfully telegraphed by showing some starving brown people on-screen in a yellow filter for all of about five seconds. but none of these are actually engaged with -- they're thrown in as empty signifiers, as if to say, very vaguely, It's The Late Nineteenth Century, Big Ideas, We All Know About Those. nothing changes in bella's material conditions at the end of the film, save for like, the presence of her Black lesbian socialist lover. that's not engaging with what Blackness, lesbianism, socialism ought to problematise about bella's life and worldview; it's tacking the fact of those things on as a footnote and calling it development.

speaking of enlightenment-style idealism, the film makes very little effort to problematise bella's desire for self-improvement, and how that self-improvement comes about specifically through becoming articulate and acquiring greater motoric skills. as i said, the film takes a turn towards (very shallow depictions of) socialist thought once the action shifts to paris, but the underlying suggestion that bella's 'self-improvement' to the ends of making herself, essentially, less disabled was to her benefit is never challenged. this combined with the extent to which the film's aforementioned shit humour rested heavily on expecting the audience to laugh at bella speaking and moving oddly or saying something out of place &c. left a v nasty taste in my mouth.

the premise is stupid sorry. like it's just utterly inane. frankenstein for the most unimaginative people alive. for that matter, most of the plot beats are ridiculous and lazy -- the final arc, with the arrival of her old husband and the return to her old house, was very much giving "the deadline is at midnight and we still need to fill this last half hour and we've got nothing to put here so let's just whack out the first plot we can think of." like, it was incredibly rushed, ridiculously heavyhanded and patronising, and unable to add anything of substance to the piece (which, to be fair, nothing in that film was at all substantial, So Like).

it's misogynistic slop with a lazy plot and no real interest in engaging with the ideas it vaguely raises for five seconds. it's aesthetically decent, i guess, but like ... anything can be aesthetically decent. it's v easy for a film to look pretty and apparently v difficult for it to actually do anything substantial.

#ask

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soobrat · 2 years

Text

take care; bc

pairing; dom!bang chan x sub, afab!reader

words; 3.5k

genre; idol!au, smut, fluff, sprinkle of angst

warnings; mc is slightly a tsundere (hopefully not too annoying), references to mc and Chan's casual sexcapades, sappy, just regular missionary but I promise it's fun, unprotected sex

preface; what happens when you take two people with differing love languages and throw 'em together??? Read to find out. This was supposed to be a qau, but I decided to make it a thing because I liked it.

Bang Chan is a dependable man. He has to be with so many people counting on him. First, he had his members to look after. Though it can be stressful, it’s rewarding. He wouldn’t mind doing this for a long time. Then came his juniors. They always come ‘round, equipped with questions and requests for advice. Especially the leaders. He views them as his family as well, so it doesn’t bother him one bit. Guess you could say he’s grown accustomed to this role of his.

So when you came around, he had his mentor cap ready. You weren’t under the same company, but he became aware of your existence from the comparisons. Of course the public would compare. You’re both leaders. You both crafted your lineups yourselves. You both are producers. And lastly, most importantly, you guys are strict on how you and your members uphold morals. If you do something wrong, you should apologize for it and promise to do better.

If anyone knows how much is on your plate, it’s Chan. So of course he reached out, just to let you know to call him if you needed anything.

“That’s very kind. I’m doing pretty good, though.” You reply, kind but still forthright.

“Wait, huh?”

You chuckle and it makes Bang Chan want to groan. People just couldn’t be this productive, this perfect, and be doing “pretty good”. That’s simply not how humans work. Look at your goddamn smile accompanying your perfect laugh.

“I kinda think balancing everything is… enjoyable? I don’t know, that sounds crazy.” You look to be processing your thought since you don’t even believe it yourself. Your eyes wander before you nod. “Yeah, it is enjoyable. I guess I like being busy.”

Bang Chan is still short-circuiting, his head still cocked to the side, brows furrowed with his mouth hung open. After trying and failing to understand, he falls back on “Huh?”

“I know, I think it’s weird too.” You shrug before the corner of your lips quirk up. You look content with the bomb you just dropped on Chan. He doesn’t like to talk about it, but the stress seems neverending. It’s unhealthy at this point. The fact that you could balance all that, with more members as well, and still look and claim to be so calm is beyond him. “Sometimes I feel like I was just built for this lifestyle, you know?” You say, gesturing vaguely before looking at him for confirmation.

Built for being pushed to and beyond your limits with minimal rest, food, and mental health care? Who possibly could be made for that? Subconsciously, Chan came to two different potential conclusions. The first didn’t feel great when it materialized in his brain.

Maybe you weren’t working as efficiently.

He immediately felt like an asshole for even thinking it, but after days of thinking after he bumped into you, he knew in his heart there was a hidden explanation. So he sat down to talk to you, leader to leader. He told you how he chose his members and asked you how you chose yours. You hum as you think, looking down at the dining room table in your dorm. You splay your hands out on the table.

“Twelve is a lot, and it’s hard to pull off a lineup with that many members and it not feel bloated.” You start, narrowing your eyes as you wrangle your thoughts. “For so long I kept comparing each girl to the concept I was briefed on and being completely lost. I only had five girls. Then I realized I had to stop worrying if they fit the concept perfectly. What matters is if the members complement each other.” You slide your hands together as a visual aid for your explanation.

“I spent hours watching and rewatching the videos of the girls displaying their talents. I got a good feel of what each of my five brought to the group and what was missing. I picked the rest based on what I thought our lineup lacked and from there, I focused on making sure no one stuck out like a sore thumb. Sometimes I even considered removing myself.” You look up from the table as you snort. He meets your eyes with utter captivation written on his face.

“Please continue.” He urges excitedly.

“Okay, well I realized it was okay for two members to stay in the lineup together even if they were really different. As long as there were enough girls there to complement each of them, therefore balancing everything out. Does this make sense? I feel like I’m all over the place.” Your shoulders slump as doubt tugs at your features.

“Oh, definitely. This is actually pretty impressive,” Because he expected you to half-ass it. Of course you weren’t. He could tell from each video he watched of you. The way you carried yourself. How you spoke. The way you keep your members in line while not seeming the least bit cold. Someone doing a piss poor job would’ve displayed signs of inadequacy, at least a small one. No, you were spotless.

He could tell through the screen from your confident, captivating smile. It was even more apparent when he saw you in person for the first time. You were a star. You shined brighter than most other idols. You stood taller. You were the definition of promising. When Chan looks at you, he can’t help but want you to stay that way. He’s seen what this industry could do to people, and the thought of it one day taking your smile away… he just didn’t want to witness that.

His eyes followed you as you wandered into the kitchen. You were always up and running around, barely taking a moment to rest. You had frequented his dorm enough to traverse his kitchen no problem.

“Ooh, do you want some dakgalbi? Maybe I can make some kimbap on the side, too.” You look back at him excitedly as you pull out a package of chicken from the fridge. No way you’re a good cook as well. Do you cook for your members?

“Here, let me help.” Chan says, feeling restless watching you.

“Half of the things you’ve said to me involved the word “help”.” You laugh. He ignores you, already standing next to you in the kitchen. As he chops vegetables, he can't help watching you gather everything you need. So busy.

“At the end of the day do you just collapse into your bed? Not even taking off your clothes or anything-”

“No,” You shout over him, “I take a shower and do my nightly skincare routine. Then I read a book and go to sleep.” You give him a self-satisfied look on your way to set seasonings on the counter. He hadn’t even factored in your flawless skin. That’s a good way to describe you. Lacking flaws.

It reminded him of his second explanation he had yet to explore.

You were lying.

Once the food was finished, you dust your hands off before letting out a deep exhale. “Okay. Time to clean!”

“Absolutely not.” Chan says pushing you out of the kitchen. You protest and fight against him, but there’s no use with those muscles. You huff and cross your arms, watching as he starts putting the ingredients away.

“What, you think I can’t handle a couple of dishes?”

“Yeah.” He says simply, not sparing you a glance as he shelves the spices. You scoff and waltz back into the kitchen.

“I’m not a child, you know.”

“I never said that, it’s just,” Chan sighs, dropping his hands by his sides. “Do you do all the cooking and cleaning at your dorm as well?” He turns toward you as he inquires.

“Yes. It’s a part of my schedule, I try to do it every day.”

“Oh my god!”

“It’s not that big of a deal, I’ve told you so many times I like being busy!”

“So, what, you’re gonna add cooking and cleaning for Stray Kids onto your schedule?” He suggests as a joke but when you shrug, he rolls his eyes.

“I’m joking. I wanted to cook, so I cooked. It would be rude to leave a mess behind.” You approach him and swipe the pan from his hands. “Now let me clean up after myse-”

“Ah~” Chan lifts a slice of kimbap to your mouth and pops it in. You close your mouth around it awkwardly and gawk at him in disbelief. He swipes the pan back with a smirk. The words you’re saying are a garbled mess so Chan just pushes you away again. “Go sit down and eat. I’ll make you a plate and deal with the mess.”

You clumsily swallow the half-chewed food as you twist yourself around, this time able to successfully resist.

“Hey- You!” You point your finger in his face as you plant yourself directly in front of him. “Stop it!”

“Oh calm down. I promise a little rest won’t hurt you.” He pats your head. What, just because he’s been a leader for longer than you he thinks he can boss you around and tell you how to live?

“You wanna know what I think?” You step forward, not anticipating how close his face would be.

“What’s that, baby girl.”

The name nearly knocks the wind out of you. You falter for a moment, but remain steadfast. “I think you just can’t handle that I function differently. Everyone doesn’t go about their life the same way you do.”

Chan hisses derisively, leaning his head slightly to look down at you. “Is that so?”

“Yes! I don’t need to be coddled, Chan!” Your confidence is back at full volume as you stare back at him. Chan raises his eyebrows before setting the pan on the counter.

“I don’t look to coddle you,” Chan says as he repositions himself at his previous proximity. “I just wanna lighten some of your load.” His voice gets softer as he brings his hand up to brush a piece of hair out of your face. He tucks it behind your ear and his hand lingers longer than you expect. His hands are warm and despite their callouses, inviting. All of a sudden the fire fueling you to glare back at him was weaning, and looking into his eyes didn’t feel as uncomplicated. You blink, mouth fumbling over a rebuttal. What was it you were going to say again?

“Just tell me how I can make things easier for you.” He lowers his voice even further, bringing his face closer to yours. Your noses almost touching.

“I-I don’t need things to be easier. I’m doing just fine, why can’t you accept that?” You ask, genuinely stumped. Chan seems to finally understand why you were so adamant. He shuts his eyes with a sigh.

“Shit, I’m sorry. I’ve been undermining what you’re capable of, haven’t I?” His thumb strokes your cheek and you can’t help but flutter your eyes shut. Your heart is beating so intensely against your chest you fear something may be wrong. “I should’ve been more mindful of how I was making you feel.”

“Yeah, you should’ve.” You say unconvincingly. To your dismay, his warmth is suddenly gone. You open your eyes to see him staring to turn away.

“Since I helped make the mess, I’ll help clean. You can kick me out-”

You grab his arm, pulling him back toward you. He looks at you in confusion.

“I didn’t say to stop touching me.” It was a sad final attempt at trying to keep your walls raised. When Chan laughs at you, you can’t help but feel piteous. He notices the look on his face and sighs, raising his hands back to your cheeks.

“Was that your sad attempt at asking for attention, baby?” He raises his eyebrows, dark eyes questioning you. You panic, looking away as your cheeks start to feel warm. God– wait, your cheeks. Can he feel how hot they’re getting? You groan, clenching your eyes shut.

“You’re always so confident no matter what, and now you can’t even look at me.” He sounds surprised. He raises your head and you hesitantly open your eyes. You’re greeted with his dimpled smile crinkling his eyes and your overactive heart seemingly freezes at the sight. “I have no problem doing this for you.” He rests his forehead against yours. You can’t deny it anymore. It feels so right. But it wasn’t enough.

“Just this…” You say, voice barely above a whisper. You clear your throat. “And more of it.”

A smile tugs at Chan’s lips. “I think I can manage that.” The next thing you register is his lips on yours. You soften into him, feeling weightless.

You still never admit when you were struggling, but Chan can feel it. You’re a completely different person when he’s inside you. Hell, the moment his skin touches yours you become completely pliant. You make no effort to be in control, instead yielding it all to him. And Chan happily accepts it.

All of your noises are high-pitched, breathy, and soft. You shut your eyes tight while he fucks you. God forbid you open them, it takes a lot of convincing to get you to look at him. It’s a side of you he’s never seen before. One that disappears as quickly as it appears.

Outside of his bedroom you’re still that flawless go-getter with her head held high. The two of you barely talk about your escapades until you ask for it.

“Touch me please,” or something along those lines is all you say, maybe with a grab of Chan’s hand to boot. It doesn’t matter how many times you say it, it makes his day every single time. He knows better than to laugh now. You’re already so self-conscious about asking. If your voice were any quieter when you did, he fears he wouldn’t hear you at all.

The more time he spends with you, the more he understands why. The reason is still unknown to him but he came to realize you have a hard time opening up. It may be because you don’t like burdening people, it could be something deeper. He didn’t feel the need to pry. It was more than enough to watch you unravel underneath him.

You were waiting politely on the bed behind him. He smiles softly, resuming his work so he can finish and start your usual routine. With one last click of his mouth he exhales loudly and spins around to face you. He stretches his hands high, loosening up after being in the same position for hours. He sits and waits, knowing you prefer to come to him on your own. So he just rests his hands behind his head with a stupid grin. You take a deep breath before speaking.

“Can you come here?” You murmur, so utterly unaware of the puppy dog eyes you sport each time you ask him for something. You were so fucking cute.

“Of course baby.” When Chan approaches you it’s like you start to magnetize. His proximity draws you closer to him. It’s impossible not to have your hands on him all the time. The moment he grabs you and swings you over his lap, the air changes. He engulfs you in a big, tight hug and you instantly melt. The air you inhale feels fresher. You hug him back and curl your fingers into his shirt. As you nuzzle your head into the crook of his neck you feel completely engrossed. When you closed your eyes, it was like you were floating.

“I need to be taken care of today.” You gasp against his skin as you circle your arms around him tighter. So tight that Chan can’t pull back to check if he was hearing things. “You what?”

You still don’t pull back, but you wait a beat before repeating yourself. “Please take care of me. I really need it.”

Chan feels like someone was squeezing his heart. He was having trouble breathing correctly. This was an advancement he couldn’t ruin, so he wordlessly flipped you onto your back. He positions himself in between your legs and captures your lips. You kiss him back with so much passion, more than he’d ever received from you. It was becoming harder to not let on how much your words moved him.

“I’ll take care of you baby, just relax.” Breathes against your lips before slotting his in between them again. You’re already making small noises, sweet gasps and sighs after each kiss. He was scared to say so, but there was no denying how needy you were. It was rubbing off on him.

He reaches down in an attempt to rid you of your sweatpants without disconnecting. He sighs frustratedly when it doesn’t work and pulls away. You whimper at the loss of warmth and he stops to look at you. Your eyes were glassy, lips swollen, brows slanted. It takes you lifting your legs for him to remember what he was doing. Chan doesn’t take his eyes off you when he slides them off, so he almost misses that you have no underwear on. “Fuck,” He swears sharply as his cock throbs. Arousal throngs through him so intensely he thinks he’ll pass out. Then he looks up at your pitiful expression.

“Please.” You ask weakly.

He can’t stop himself anymore. His lips are on you after mere seconds, drinking in all your noises. “I’ll do anything for you.” He manages in the small window of time you’re not completely devouring each other.

He shoves his own sweats as far down as he can without pulling away. Feeling his hot tip brushing against your mound drives you even more mad. You’re buzzing from how much you need to feel him. To feel full and embraced.

Chan swipes his cock through your folds and lets out a shuttered breath. You’re dripping. He slides in so easily that he’s already fully sheathed inside you the moment he pushes in. “Holy shit…”

You throw your head back and let your mouth drop open. You finally manage to push out a wanton moan after a few seconds of still silence, the two of you letting the pleasure sink in. Chan sounds desperate and filthy when he groans. He’s impossibly hard and stiff inside you. Everything just feels so right it leaves you both wondering why it feels so good this time around.

You’re so wet and tight around him he can’t help but hiss as he rocks his hips back. By the time he pushes in again both of you are moaning messes. “Fuck, fuck, fuck-” Chan squeezes, finally picking up a steady rhythm. Each time he thrusts into you it’s heavy with an obscene slap and squelch filling both your ears. It’s the perfect amount of pressure to send you reeling, make you curl your toes and buck your hips. You weren’t quiet and breathy anymore. Your moans were loud and full, resonating in your chest and filling the quiet room.

It fuels every languid roll of Chan’s hips. Every time he pulls back, he feels how much you’ve coated his shaft. The cool air hits it and makes him want to stay balls deep inside you forever, surrounded by your warm wetness.

He slides his knees forward, pushing himself further inside you. He pulls back less, instead grinding against you. It was like he read your mind. He was closer now, chest pressed against yours with one of his hand caressing your face. You look up at him. No hesitation or shying away from his gaze. He’s able to look into your eyes as he makes love to you.

Tears were streaming down your face and he kisses every streak they left behind. Your heart feels like it’s expanding from all the affection. Your moans are becoming more frantic and desperate as you hug him closer to your body. You chant his name between trembling breaths. He shushes you, planting soft kisses on your lips.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you.” He’s putting up a front as if he’s not about to fall apart as well. “Just let go for me.”

You push your tongue inside his mouth, eager to taste him. His tongue massaging yours was exactly what you needed. You whine as your hips jerk against him, dissolving into pure pleasure. You feel dizzy, crying out as you cum around his cock. You tug him by his shirt and he gets the message. He wraps his arms firmly around you, his strong biceps making you feel secure. With a few more lewd moans, Chan is spurting hot bursts of cum into your swollen hole. You shudder against him, thin whines floating from your lips.

Chan continues to kiss you as you come down, whispering soothing words until your eyes flutter shut. He stops to lean back and look at you. You look so blissful. He always thought you looked calm, but perhaps he didn’t quite know what a calm expression truly looked like on you. He could tell you were about to drift off to sleep.

“Thank you.” You breathe. He smiles before kissing the tip of your nose. “You don’t need to thank me.” He brushes his thumb over your cheek bone, looking down at you fondly.

“I’ll always be here to take care of you.”

likes and reblogs are appreciated!

#800 #bang chan #stray kids #kpop #chan #skz #smut #fluff #angst #bang chan smut #stray kids smut #kpop smut #skz smut

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bloodtwin · 1 month

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👨‍❤️‍👨 !

send me a 💑 if we ship our muses together and i'll tell you why i love our ship! if we aren't shipping our muses together but want to, send me a 💘 and i'll give you my first impressions of the ship source: here.

*cracks knuckles* okay,

so fun fact about me. the movie that has fundamentally shaped the way i write characters or stories is beauty and the beast. so just do with that information what you will.

i joke that puck does not have a type (he doesnt. not really) BUT if he did, babsi is That. this is because she is the most prey animal creature in all of history. something something me & mr wolf. the struggle between wanting to take care of her & wanting to eat her is very real for my boy. quite funny... and also sexy.

their relationship is also a beautiful comedy of errors. everything that happens to them is the most hilarious & most embarrassing thing i have ever seen in my life.

again, HUGE fan of the opposites attract thing going on with them too. best ship concept ever. they have vastly different life experiences. seem to have almost nothing in common yet they mesh so well.

i think babsi is quite charmed by his gentle giant swag. he's a little gentleman is the thing. he's kind of got this almost knight-in-shining-armor vibe but not quite because he's more like a possessive, deranged, rabid guard dog who tries to act like he's just a little, innocent puppy. he's also definitely subconsciously protecting her in the same way a predator protects its prey from... other predators. but he doesn't know that <3

puck really adores just about everything about her. i think he wants to be like her. tbh i would even say he's a bit jealous of her polite, innocent lady personality. he's so very embarrassed & even a bit hopeless (?) because there is NO WAY he could EVER deserve to be with someone so lovely. he feels SO self-conscious around her.

size difference

they're just very sweet :3c despite puck's um. *gestures vaguely* Everything, there's this like, innocence to their relationship that's quite cute. they interact like school kids who just got their first crush ever. both of them are a bit clueless about what to do in a relationship, especially a relationship specifically between the two of them. it's so charming LOL

puck is ... not the most romantic man in the world. he wears his heart on his sleeve, but when it comes to romance he gets scared. isn't really sure what to do in a relationship beyond the realm of sex. he's used to having a friends with benefits type of situation with people. he does not court. i dont think he knows what a date even is.

but babsi really makes him want to try. and that's just so endearing to me.

#bloodyarn #sorry for rambling maybe a lil bit #yeah theyre fine i guess idk (I DO KNOW ACTUALLY) (THEY ARE EVERYTHING TO ME)#☠️ ⸻ OUT OF BONES！❞ 🥀 ooc。#📬 ⸻ ALL GOOD CITIZENS OF WYRMLANDS！HARKEN UNTO THESE WORDS！❞ 💌 inbox。

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alpydk · 3 months

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So BPD/EUPD (my essay)

I said I'd make a post - Not BG3 related in any way, so ignore if you're not interested in that. - Warning it's long. -

Also TW (sui, s/h, MH...etc...)

BPD (Borderline Personality Disorder) / EUPD (Emotionally Unstable Personality Disorder)

I only got diagnosed in 2022 - late for most who get this, but looking over my life, there are a lot of big red flags that show I should've got diagnosed earlier. Going to be from my life with it, can't speak for the others with it, so hey, this is how it is for me. Like all illnesses - It's A sPeCTruM!

So I'm EUPD type Borderline under the DK rules. Some argue there is this 4 types things but there's no research at all here for it. They treat with meds (useless for me I've found) and DBT (basically used for mental illness, it feels like.) - I am raw dogging life thanks to circumstance which explain why I can be a little tetchy at times.

To be diagnosed, you must fulfil 5 of the 9 criteria below (which honestly feel so fucking vague and overlap with so many other conditions basically anyone could be diagnosed it feels like.) There are a number of people who find they're actually AuADHD / CPTSD etc and yeah, BPD can be a problem once it's on your file, so find a good doctor who knows their shit. This is not a fun condition to have. Around 10% of people with BPD are estimated to die by suicide, a rate far higher than the average. - Fun right!

The 9 criteria are:

Frantic efforts to avoid real or imagined abandonment (Note: Do not include suicidal or self-mutilating behaviour covered in Criterion 5) - For me, I cut people off instantly or even before I get to know them. It is simply easier to be alone than risk being abandoned. Backwards isn't it? - If you've got into my circle somehow you're probably off the wall fucking nuts (like me). I will push people away to prove I'm right and that they will abandon me because that's easier to manage.

A pattern of unstable and intense interpersonal relationships characterised by alternating between extremes of idealisation and devaluation - When I had my break, I became obsessed with a guy I knew. His emotions dictated my emotions. If he was happy, I was happy (you get the picture.) - If he worried about me, I felt validated and so I spiraled. How worried could I get him to be? When he didn't answer or didn't reply in the way I wanted, he became an asshole in my world. (splitting) Instantly he'd be cut off, or he'd be goaded into speaking with me until I was happy with him again. This went on for months.

Identity disturbance: markedly and persistently unstable self-image or sense of self - See Nana. This is a difficult one to explain without it getting depressing. I have no concept of who I am as a person. If you ask about core values, I don't know. If you ask about hobbies, I'll usually mirror what's being presented in front of me. I have been so conditioned growing up to hold back that I build no connection unless it is acceptable, and now I'm older, I'm basically lost playing in masks. Yeah, enough on that...

Impulsivity in at least two areas that are potentially self-damaging (e.g. spending, sex, substance abuse, reckless driving, binge eating) (Note: Do not include suicidal or self-mutilating behaviour covered in Criterion 5) - Binge Eating and spending are my big two. I did drinking when I was younger. Sex is.... a topic...

Recurrent suicidal behaviour, gestures, or threats, or self-mutilating behaviour - I have not S/H'ed in over a motherfucking year! Does that mean I don't want to? Fuck no. I just don't have access to it.

Affective instability due to a marked reactivity of mood (e.g. intense episodic dysphoria, irritability or anxiety usually lasting a few hours and only rarely more than a few days) - Like a fucking seesaw. You'll see it on my feed. Major depressive angst and then I'm wanting to fuck Rugan and Gale in some sort of super masc sandwich, all in the space of 3-4 hours. When I say a mood will pass, I fucking mean it.

Chronic feelings of emptiness - yeahhh. Self explanatory, right?

Inappropriate, intense anger or difficulty controlling anger (e.g. frequent displays of temper, constant anger, recurrent physical fights) - I lose my shit pretty often. I've learnt how to bring it down, like I'm not one for temper tantrums and public displays. It's all internal and brewing constantly. Take, for example, the other night. I lost my shit over something really minor (simple insecurities causing me to lash out. I have since blocked the offender like a mature moron, even though they probably don't realise or even understand why. I'm still angry at them though.) - Either way, gives an idea of what it's sort of like in my head.

Transient, stress-related paranoid ideation or severe dissociative symptoms - This hasn't been as big a problem as it was during my breakdown. At that point, I'd travel to work and could not tell you how I got there. I still have moments of dissociation which are problematic, but it's manageable.

Anyway - That's the 9 and as you see, I get a nice big tick next to each one. People with BPD pretty much always have a nice trauma backstory to boot as well.

Personal things that bother me. Someone questioning my diagnosis. A big thing with BPD (at least for me) is validation. Having someone say my diagnosis could be wrong doesn't help me when my sense of identity is so fucked. I trust my doctors. They were thorough and they have so many more years of experience than google.

The other thing is the "my ex had, my MIL had..." Did they? Or are you just doing some arm chair psychology to explain why they were a jerk and as such preventing people like me from getting real help due to stigma? On this note - 7 psychiatrists I went through before one would even agree to see me, simply based on a potential diagnosis. Patients would be easier to work with if Drs didn't have preconceived ideas before we walked through the door.

Oh, one last thing of annoyance - FP's (Favourite person) - I fucking hate this term. You see, the obsession thing earlier - That's technically what this was, but thanks to tiktok and other social media sites some people like to RP mental illnesses now and FP's are their fucking lives. I just.... bug bear rage there.

So yeah, that's me. That's my essay on my mental health and over sharing for the week, and possibly an explanation for why things have been so erratic recently.

#personal #borderline personality disorder #actually bpd #a fucking essay on my mental health #ask questions if you want #im really open and apparently self aware or some shit

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celandeline · 8 months

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Summer of Like // Farleigh Start x OC (15)

The sun beats down on me, the hot weight of its rays pinning me to my lounge chair, making it impossible to even think about getting up. It seems like all I do these days is sunbathe, but I’m not complaining. To be content is to be basking in the sun, my mind devoid of all thoughts except for the sound of Venetia turning the pages of Harry Potter next to me.

With a sigh, she drops the book to the ground.

“So?” I ask, tipping my head to look at her.

She settles back in her chair, tipping her face back towards the sun. “It was fine, I guess. I didn’t love the ending - I mean, there’s this whole big battle and everything and then it just jumps to when they’re all like forty and have kids. Nothing in between.”

“At least you win.” I say. Not that I was ever really doubting that she was going to beat Farleigh and Felix to finishing the book by a mile - but even if the ending was kind of shit, there’s some consolation.

“Yeah.” She says.

I bring my arms up over my head, resting them on the back of the chair, and close my eyes. With how comfortable I am, and how warm it is, it’s all too tempting to fall asleep - but I resist. I don’t want my front to be noticeably darker than my back.

Next to me, Venetia sighs. “So.”

“Mm?” I open my eyes, turning my head to look at her. Her bottom lip is pinched between her teeth, and her eyes are alight in the way that they always do when she has something exciting to tell me. I’ll have to do my best to act surprised when she spills.

“I went on a walk last night.” She starts. “Just to have a cigarette, you know.”

“Of course.” I say.

“And I was just sitting on the little stone ledge over there,” She vaguely gestures behind us, to the house. “When Ollie walks up and starts talking to me about how pretty I am and how I really should eat.” She giggles like she’s making fun of him. “It was like he was a totally different person. He was trying to dom me into eating.”

I lower my sunglasses to look at her. “Well? Is that what I should have been doing all along?”

She giggles again, this time less condescending. “Maybe.” She teases. “It might have worked better if you’d have done it. Either way,” She says, “Next thing I know, he’s going to eat me out and I tell him that I’m on my period, and he does it anyway.” She’s thoroughly excited by the novelty of it - she talks about him like she talks about limited edition designer collaborations.

I scrunch up my nose. “That must have made a mess.”

“Of course.” She flaps a hand, dismissive. “I had to take a bath, after, to get it all off of me, but - have you ever had someone do that to you before?”

“Have I had period sex?” I repeat. “That’s basically what dental dams are for, V, nobody really uses them when they’re not eating someone out on their period.”

“I mean with a guy.” She says.

“Of course not.” I say.

“See?” She says. “God, he’s so…” She trails off with a smile. “I don’t know if there’s even a word for it.”

I can’t help but laugh. “What, really?” I sit up, swinging my legs over the side of the chaise into the little aisle between us. “He eats you out one time and you’re trying to come up with new additions to the English language? I’ll eat you out anytime you want-”

“I know, Evie.” She teases. “You’ve said, about a million times.” Her face shifts, and she pauses. “I hope Felix isn’t mad.”

“Right.” I say. I’d forgotten what she’d told me - about the summer before this one, about the boy before Oliver. About how she was worried Felix would try and do the same thing to her with me, just to get revenge. Farleigh probably hadn’t even thought about Venetia before telling Felix.

“He seemed mad, at breakfast, but there’s no way he’s found out already.” She says. “I mean, it was just last night. No one was out but us.”

I could tell her. I should tell her - we’re best friends for a reason. We tell each other everything. But telling her is admitting that Farleigh and I watched her get eaten out. I turn it over in my head again.

“I have something to say.” I start. “And you have to promise that you won’t get mad.”

Venetia scoffs. “I could never get mad at you, Evie.”

“Farleigh and I saw you and Oliver last night. And I’m 100% sure that Farleigh told Felix.”

She just stares at me for a moment, and then she’s lunging forward, reaching over the spaces between our chairs to aim a flurry of slaps right at my head. I throw my arms up for protection, but it only does so much good - most of her blows land on my forearms, but my shoulder still take a beating too.

“What the hell?” She says.

“I’m sorry- I didn’t mean to see, we were just out on the roof and-”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were hanging out with Farleigh last night?” She cuts me off.

“I tried, he didn’t want me to.” I say.

Her eyebrows shoot up at that, peeking over the top of her sunglasses. “What did he say, exactly?” Her tone switches on the dime, going from accusatory to interested in an instant.

“No,” I say. “It’s not like that.”

“Oh, shut up.” She says, scooting to the edge of her chair so that our knees are touching. “It is so totally like that. I told you all about mine, tell me about yours. You owe me, for being a voyeuristic creep anyway.”

I roll my eyes, but give in anyway. She’s right - I do owe her, and it so totally is like that. “He didn’t really say anything. He just sort of looked at me.”

“Like how?” Venetia asks.

“I don’t know, like…” Like he wanted to kiss me. The words dance on the tip of my tongue. I almost wish that Venetia hadn’t had a life changing head-related experience last night, just so that Farleigh and I wouldn’t have been interrupted. Then I’d know if he really was trying to kiss me, and not just a little too high. “I don’t know.”

“Mhmm.” She presses her lips together like she’s trying to hide her smile. “And what else did you guys talk about?”

“Nothing really.” I say.

“C’mon, please?” Venetia begs, leaning closer to me.

“He just said that we could be friends.” I say. “That was really it.”

“That’s it?” She asks, sounding disappointed. “I got ate out on my period last night and all you could get was ‘we can be friends’?” She sighs, and flops back into her chaise. “You’re so lame when it comes to guys, Evie. If Farleigh was a girl you’d have fucked by now.”

I splutter out a laugh. “I don’t-”

“You do, you so totally do, don’t even deny it, I see how you two look at each other.” She cuts me off. “I am explicitly giving you full permission to do whatever you’d like to that boy, and you’d better well use it before the end of the summer.”

I settle back in my chaise. “Okay then.”

“I mean it, Evie.”

“I’m sure you do.”

< previous part | next part >

#farleigh start x oc #farleigh start x reader #saltburn #farleigh start #farleigh x reader #saltburn x reader

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yell0wsalt · 9 months

Note

For the OTP + Character Ask

Linzin 7, 17, 27

Linumi 5, 15, 25

And dealer's choice - any number and pairing you thing would be fun!

These were really good questions, many thanks!

Linzin 7, 17, 27

7. Who's clumsier?

In the day to day neither of them are all that clumsy. Consider that a product of their bending and training. However, there are instances when Lin might be more clumsy than Tenzin. Have her out of her element doing something she may not be particularly used to and she's on rocky waters so to speak, well, good luck to her 🫡

Tenzin as a bender is not only self aware of his body/movements, but years of training as an Air bender he is particularly light/graceful on his feet.

If either of them catch a glimpse of the other’s booty, all bets are off and they’re tripping on their own feet.

17. Who is more competitive?

Ooh this one I can see going either way. Lin is blatantly more competitive when they are sparring and things like that. However, Tenzin also has the tendency to take things and himself too seriously. So he’ll make a competition out of the trivial things that don’t matter, such as how well either of their art came out or how much Oogi likes either one of them.

27. Craziest place they had sex?

I did answer that one here, suggesting Raiko’s office out of spite and a changing room in the shopping mall.

Linumi 5, 15, 25

5. Who is the cheesier one of the two?

Bumi. He’s more expressive with his affection. Pet names, big gestures, PDA… things of that nature. Lin gets embarrassed and acts like she hates it, but she can’t deny that part of her secretly loves it.

15. Who's the first to cry during movies that don't seem sad?

Lin. She’ll be crying happy tears the main character, despite all the trials and tribulations they were put through, were able to get their happy ending. Bonus points if the movie had a found family situation. I can see her internalizing any of the conflicts the characters had in the movie and it ends up spilling over. Meanwhile, Bumi enjoys the movie for what it is and has a higher degree of separation of himself from the movie.

25. (a lil sappy, but..) What do they like about each other?

Lin loves that Bumi underneath all the foolishness he can exude, is actually a genuine and standup guy. He is quite adept when it comes to reading others, and it's helpful that she doesn’t always need to tell him what may be wrong or what’s on her mind. Somehow, he just… knows. He makes *a vague circular hand wave* everything easy for her.

Bumi loves that not only is she a strong and capable woman who doesn’t take shit, but there’s a part of her that would do anything for the ones she loves. She’s not afraid to tell it like it is and he appreciates that realness.

And dealer's choice - any number and pairing you thing would be fun!

I went with 1. Who is the better cook? (Linzin and Linumi)

Lin is technically the better cook. However, I say this meaning that she has a small rotation of dishes she cooks out of a sake of efficiency. But because she is so efficient in the kitchen, the few recipes she knows, she has on lock.

When she takes time off, she’ll use that time to practice/try something new to swap in and out of her rotation.

Tenzin is not that great of a cook. He is an excellent baker though.

With their powers combined, they eat well. They try to make kitchen activities a bonding moment for them.

Bumi is actually quite the excellent cook. He’s had to be resourceful and has also had greater exposure to local/traditional cuisines from around the world in his time in the United Forces. He’s gained knowledge on what spices and techniques to use and applies them to impress Lin on occasion.

OTP + character asks!

#lin beifong #tenzin #bumi ii #linzin #linumi

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lifeonvenuswriting · 2 years

Text

STANDS UP.

Alright time to christen my new blog with the raunchiest shit I've ever written in my life. Myc x Self-Insert smut. Warnings under cut! MINORS LEAVE.

Cw: Major Breeding Kink, Tentacles (It's Myc lmao), Sex Pollen

@flyingspicerack LMAO I HOPE ITS OKAY I STOLE THE TERM SEX DEN IT WAS SOOOO FUNNY TO ME Also i refuse to edit this anymore LMAO sorry for any mistakes or missing italics

"I'm sorry? What did you just call this room?"

Ectoc was fucking bewildered as their eyes widened and they spun the vape pen Myc lended them around their fingers idely.

"The sex den?" Myc gestured vaguely at the door, "it has all the shit you'd need for it; lube, toys..." Ectoc tuned out the rest of the list, taking a hit from the pen and handing it back to Myc.

They leaned against the wall in thought, tapping their thigh as Myc prattled on about the sex room. Never in all their life had they seen or heard of a "Sex Den". Not even when they joined a sex cult in the 70s after getting annoyed at their followers for trying to sacrifice a Virgin to them. They go a little bit on autopilot as Myc pushes the door open to reveal the room. Ectoc followed behind Myc as they looked around the room, squinting at various objects.

"So this is a place you use like... regularly?" They can't bring themself to ask why in the world he wouldn't just turn the room into something more... useful?? Or even why this room existed in the first place. They had a sneaking suspicion that they wouldn't like the answer Myc gave.

It was late, 2 in the morning and hours before Ectoc could go in to work. Usually when they are waiting to go back to work they trance or shower or even get some chores done, but something about today just made them anxious and on edge the whole time. They messaged Myc about it and he had suggested that Ectoc come over to "Netflix and Chill". So with the only other option being sitting bored in their room they chose to go see Myc.

Myc flopped down on the bed in the middle of the room, accompanied by the sound of sloshing water.

"You're kidding me," Ectoc stared at Myc with an incredulous expression as they approached him.

"Seriously??? The water bed is the one thing you can't believe? God, you need to get out more," Myc jabbed a tentacle at Ectoc defensively, crossing two others when they just deadpanned at him.

Ectoc trailed a few fingers up the flagella pointed at them, tilting their head and inspecting it as Myc trembled slightly from the sensation.

"What was that again?" The eldritch entity tilted its head slightly, an ear twitching as they watched Myc for a reaction. They opted to plop down beside him, still holding the tendril in their hand softly.

Ectoc paused and bit the inside of their cheek, staring at the tendril in hand. It was actually pretty different than they expected from Myc's species. They sort of just assumed it was smooth all the way down. Granted, they hadn't really interacted much with the hive cluster when they crashed onto Earth. It was sort of a "You stay out if my way, I'll stay out of yours," situation.

"You gonna do something or just sit and stare at it?" Myc had a bit of an uncomfortable tone in his voice that Ectoc didn't think they'd ever really hear.

They shook their head, looking back up at Myc, "Sorry, it's just-- it's been a long, long time since I've seen one of your species. I never really got a good chance to know how you guys worked."

Myc snorted and gestured at Ectoc with a flagella, "That is some of the weirdest shit I've heard you say so far. What, you wanna study me or something?"

Ectoc laughed a little and nodded, shifting a little uncomfortably, "I just uh... I think the way things work are cool."

Myc waved off Ectoc and tilted his head, groaning, "I know, I know. I've seen your journal collection, you don't gotta justify it. Make it fun at least 'cause I didn't invite you over just to get studied."

Ectoc nodded and returned their attention to the flagella in their hand, looking at the tip. There were soft, cilia-like barbs at the end of it, pointing back towards his base. They ran the pad of their thumb over them, careful not to slide the tip of their claw over the tendril as they rubbed the bumps back and forth, the tips sticking to their skin a little bit.

They looked up to see Myc shivering, and he finally let out a moan for his companion. It was sort of... soft in a way.

"That's..." Ectoc paused to let Myc catch his "breath" a little bit, feeling humid air from his gills waft slowly across their face. It had a sweet, earthy smell to it, "It feels so good when you do that. Especially when you rub them the opposite way."

Ectoc nodded, watching as the tendril began to pulse a little bit, right underneath the skin.

"Is that what they usually do to uh... milk you?"

Myc shook his head, wrapping his tendril slightly around their hand.

"The handjobs are mostly around the middle of the flagella."

Ectoc nodded as they watched the tip excrete some pre, feeling it throb under their hand. They run their thumb back over the barbs, turning the tendril over in their hand to investigate the bumps on the sides of it. They run their free hand over them, absent-mindedly wondering if they should sprout their extra arms or not.

"Sensory nerves," Myc supplies, "They aren't usually super sensitive to touch but..." he makes a sound like he's sucking in a breath as Ectoc presses a little harder onto them, "Sex is a different."

"What about those barbed parts then?" Ectoc doesn't stop their touches, letting a smirk slide out as they looked back at the mushroom.

"More... Mnn... Sex stuff."

Ectoc laughs a little bit at his inability to supply information much further, looking back down at the pulsing tendril in hand, "I hadn't even noticed most of this when we first hooked up..."

"No shit!" Myc gasped out.

Ectoc watched as Myc's flagella pulsed and throbbed, the color just under his skin changing as some kind of fluid moved under it. They shifted to gaze at the slit at the tip, observing the hot pink flesh beginning to poke out.

Experimentally, Ectoc rubbed their index against it, the flesh almost pushing back against their finger in response. A sharp burst of air from his gills washed over Ectoc again, a more spiced hint this time.

"I definitely did not see this before?" Ectoc continued to rub at it, beginning to poke their purple tongue out.

"S'not for... regular sex," Myc shivered as Ectoc allowed their tongue to fully slide out, saliva sliding down their tongue and coagulating into a drop on the end, dripping down onto his tendril.

Ectoc glances up with bright eyes, pupils narrowing into slits.

"Good thing this is for research, then," They hissed out.

They curled their tongue around his tentacle, it coiling tight before they draw it back into their mouth, being careful to not let his sensitive flagella brush against their sharp teeth.

They bobbed their head slowly at first, looking at Myc with hooded eyes and wrapping their arms around his stem. Myc also began to move his tentacle back and forth, groaning at the friction created by the movement of them both.

Ectoc slowly unraveled their tongue from its coil around his limb, trailing their tongue up, up, up towards the tip. They can feel the pulsing more strongly with the press of flesh against flesh, feeling the throbbing throughout their mouth.

Myc's other limbs curl around Ectoc's body, dragging them down till they both lay close to each other.

Ectoc began to squirm, feeling a heat beginning to bloom from their cunt, panting as an intense arousal took hold of them. A lot more intense than the usual kind they experienced.

They opted to push through it, hollowing their cheeks as they poked their tongue into the slit of his tip, being rewarded with a moan from Myc.

The outside skin of his flagella felt different than the hot pink flesh that poked out from underneath, they noted briefly. The skin had more of a soft, velvety texture while the flesh was smooth and... sort of slimy.

The inside almost readily pulled their tongue in, muscles pulsing around it as they allowed their tongue to be sucked in. Ectoc could feel Myc shove his tendrils under their clothes, gripping and fondling desperately at any place he could grab. They were both impossibly close together, Ectoc caged in by their companions limbs.

With no where else to put their hands, they placed them onto his face-orb, watching the glow fade between pink and purple.

His tendril pulled off of their tongue as they trailed a hand down his stem to his base, Ectoc watching as a chill ran down him when they lightly trailed a claw down him. Finally reaching the base, they pressed on it lightly, listening to him groan as some liquid spilled from his tendril, dripping down onto Ectoc's tongue and down the back of their throat.

They let their mouth hang open, panting when Myc pulled the tendril out of their mouth. A trail of saliva hung between their mouth and the flagella, breaking in the middle and dripping down between them. Ectoc noticed how their were also barbs on the exposed tip of the limb, similar to the skin covering it. Their gaze flicked between the limb and Myc's face, cracking a small, giddy smile and giggling.

"That was fuckin' hot," Ectoc managed to get out between giggles.

"Pointing it out ruins the mood, dumbass."

Ectoc pouts and crosses their arms, attempting to pull away but ultimately unsuccessful.

"Well sorry I can't read minds like you do!"

Ectoc began trying to squirm out of his grasp, giggling as his other tentacles tightened around their body and circled around their wrists.

"Aw, c'mon, I know that pollen's workin' on ya', stay~"

Ectoc snorted and shoved Myc's stem roughly, "you did not dose me with sex pollen!" They knew that he did, it explained the smell of spices earlier. It wasn't what Myc usually smelled like.

"Oh, I totally did, and you're definitely feeling it by now," Myc ran one of his tentacles into the spandex shorts Ectoc was wearing, lightly brushing against their t-dick.

Ectoc gasped and squirmed at the slight touch, the pollen making them almost ten times more sensitive than usual.

"Why don't we get these off, eh?" He moves his tendril downwards, pulling the shorts and their briefs lower before letting them snap back into place.

Ectoc whimpered and quickly pulled them down for him and slipping their night shirt off. They swung a leg over Myc's stem, grinding slightly against his base and panting at the slightest touch. The tendril covered in saliva slid downwards and brushed against Ectoc's dripping cunt.

"Wow, can't believe I have all this to myself? You always this wet or is it just for me?"

Ectoc gasped as his tip teased their cunt, claws digging slightly into his stem as they ground their dick against his base.

"D-do you ever--*haah* shut up?"

"Not unless you make me," Myc slid his tendril into Ectoc easily, his flesh pressing deliciously against their walls.

Ectoc moaned and arched their back, relieving their claws from their hold on Myc's stem. Small divots from where they dug their claws into him were left behind, but Ectoc ignored that in favor of placing their hands back onto his face orb and drawing him closer.

After a few moments of breathing onto him in the shared space, they planted a kiss right onto his orb. A warmth blossomed from where they kissed him and they smirked when he paused his movements.

Taking advantage of the moment they rolled their tongue over his face and moaned, trailing saliva over him while adding more kisses to the pile. A flagella that was holding onto one of their wrists came up and pushed their mouth away from him.

"You're disgusting," Myc attempted to wipe his face off.

"You're literally inside me right now man, plus you're slimy like... 90% of the time," Ectoc opted to lay their head into the part between his head and his stem, trailing a finger up and down his body.

Myc snorted, "Whatever," and began to slowly pump his tendril in and out of Ectoc.

Ectoc shivered and rewarded Myc with a few gasps while he massaged their insides. They could feel his cilia prick against their walls, feeling sticky almost. There was also the fact that his flagella was pressing deeper and deeper inside of them, their stomach bulging out slightly where he would slide against their insides.

"So-- ah... So good," Ectoc shivered as they spoke, feeling two of Myc's tendrils sink down and spread their cunt.

"Mhmm," Myc absentmindedly agreed, uncharacteristically quiet as he slid the tendril inside of them deeper until he could press against their cervix.

Ectoc flinched at the sudden pressure inside them, gasping and attempting to squirm in Myc's grip. He tightened his limbs, however, and drew the tentacle inside them away, only by a little bit.

"Shhh, shhh," he stroked their face with a tendril, voice oddly soft, "Good or bad?"

Ectoc caught their breath from the sudden stimulation, panting wildly, "G-good. It's good," they wrestled their hands out of his grasp and wrapped their arms around his stem, "I think I understand now."

"Hm, you do?" He inched the tip back up to their cervix, pressing it gently while undulating the rest of his limb slowly, "Tell me what you want then, doll."

His voice was low and Ectoc shivered when it pressed against them, almost as if he was trying to slip inside.

"Fuck--Fuckin' breed me, hotstuff," They felt him tremble around their hold, "Like you're the last. I need you to use me."

"Oh, fuck that's hot," he moaned out, "Yeah, I gotchu baby... ahh... Gonna fill you up, yeah?"

He began to talk as he attempted to press his tip inside their womb, a second tendril sliding inside their cunt while moving the two stretching them out away and around their body to drag them down his tendrils.

"*Fuck*, gonna fuck you full of my cum, sweetheart," his tip poked inside their womb, "Gonna get you knocked up and nobody'll know except me."

Ectoc squirmed and moaned as his tip slid further inside and latched onto the walls of their womb, the second tendril inside of them pressing harshly on their Grafenburg Spot.

"You're so tight its," he makes a panting noise, "It's like you're...mmmmm....milking me or something," his tendrils pulsating grew more intense when Ectoc squeezed around them, unable to do much else because of Myc's grip on their waist, and fucking them on his flagella, "That what you want? Huh?"

Ectoc nodded and squeezed their eyes shut, panting, so, so close.

"Mmmmmhmm... needa-- need ya' to put a baby in me."

Myc shuddered and arched his stem, tensing up with a final push against Ectoc's g-spot and a pulse of his tendrils.

Ectoc gasped as Myc came inside them, warm fluid filling them them up, each gush moving through their entrance like a flexible knot.

They came when they felt the third pulse of fluid moved inside their womb, gasping and attempting to grind against Myc as he resumed pushing into their g-spot intermittently. They could almost feel him in their throat as their cunt throbbed around him.

They whimpered when their orgasm tapered down but Myc's cum continued to enter them, coupled by him twitching sporadically with soft groans as he released inside them.

He shakily stroked down their back with a flagella, sighing as his final spurt was released inside them, "Good boy."

Ectoc's could've almost gotten aroused again if it weren't for how sore they felt, and the daze beginning to take over them. Probably 'cause of the blowjob. They half-heartedly thought in their daze.

They gasped as they felt his tip retract from their womb, the once pleasant tingles caused by the barbs now moderately uncomfortable and leaving them crampy and empty-ish as he slipped out of them.

They whined uncomfortably as they pulled away from him, sweat coating their body. Ectoc slowly settled and relaxed into the bed, sighing and resting their hands on their slightly bloated stomach.

They heard Myc shifting around and opened their eyes slowly, scooping up some of the cum seeping out of them and into their fingers, spreading them and watching its slide down their hand. They glanced over at Myc, who laid down beside them and trailed one of his less sensitive flagella down to push some of the leaking cum back in.

They giggled in their haze and stated back at their hand, "So much..."

Myc paused and stopped playing with his own spunk and looked over at Ectoc. He pressed a tendril onto their head, allowing himself to fully read their thoughts for once. Just to check in, he told himself.

He sighed at what he saw and cursed, scooping up the delirious Deity while trying not to let his cum drip out in gratuitous amounts onto the floor.

He started a warm bath for them, attempting to clean up what he could, Ectoc whining in discomfort anytime Myc had to reach in to scoop some cum out.

That's when a mildly concerning thought hit him, one that he's never really had to worry about before when bedding other partners.

Could Ectoc actually get pregnant?

He felt himself start to panic, sort of. Ectoc would have brought it up, right?

Myc had thought about it in the past. Having kids. Hell, during the whole project reboot fiasco he was so close to having that. But he didnt want that right now. Especially not with someone he's known for, like, two months.

He slipped Ectoc into the warm bathwater once he decided they were sufficiently cleaned up. Myc leaned back against the tub, pulling out his phone to distract himself from the increasingly worrying thoughts.

Ectoc slowly came out of their daze, blinking slowly as the fuzziness in their head dissipated. They stared down at the bathwater, vaguely remembering being carried here.

They looked over at the mushroom in the corner of their eye, leaned over his phone. Ectoc shifted slightly, leaning over the edge of the tub and resting their head against their arms. He hadn't seemed to notice them yet.

"Hey," they said quietly, not expecting Myc to flinch in a startle and turn his phone off.

"Heyyyy... so. Question. Can you get pregnant?"

Ectoc blinked and sat up, mouth opening slightly then closing as they tried to decide what to say. They squinted and looked to the side as they tapped their chin and Myc feared the worst.

Just before he could panic-text Andre, Ectoc spoke with an eyebrow raised.

"Not unless I wanted too? The way deities have kids is different than mortals. Why?"

Myc stared at Ectoc as he processed the answer, only to jolt again as the other laughed.

"OH! Oh my stars did you--" they snort and slam their hand onto the tub, "You thought you actually could get me pregnant huh?"

Myc scoffed and went back to his phone, jabbing at it roughly with a tendril, "No. What made you think that?"

Ectoc rolled their eyes and snorted once more, sinking back into the bath, "Sure buddy, sure."

#inside job #inside job oc #magic myc #myc #Venus After Hours #nsft

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ryangosking · 2 years

Text

Boobies

Summary- Things change between you and Steve when he accidentally walks in on you half naked. Fluff/smut, friends to lovers.

Warnings- 18+ for sexual content. Lil' bit of thigh riding, fingering, unprotected p in v sex, swearing.

"Steeeeve!" You screech, your arms automatically covering your naked chest.

"Oh shit." He mumbles, holding onto the half open door, still staring.

"STEVE!" You yell.

"God, sorry!" He finally turns his back. "Your mom said it was OK to come up."

"Well it wasn't! I'll meet you in the car." You tell him, shortly.

"Yeah, sure, OK." He stutters, flustered, closing the door.

You're actually MORTIFIED, your friend Steve seeing you half naked like that. Hastily pulling on your bra and shirt, your whole body feels like it's on fire with embarrassment. Not only was Steve your friend, you'd had a crush on him for years. It had been bad enough recently, having to listen to him bemoan his love life - after Nancy he'd gone aimlessly from girl to girl, looking for something you knew you could give him. And now he'd be comparing you to all the others, the discarded ones. Dammit.

Steve sat in the car, in shock. He kept replaying the scene as he waited for you, how soft you looked and .... touchable. It wasn't as if he'd never seen boobs before, he'd seen LOTS of boobs, all shapes and sizes. But these were different, they were attached to you, his kind and funny friend, who patiently listened to his romantic woes after yet another date crashed and burned. He had actually come close to asking you out a few times over the years, always backing out at the last minute, convinced it would ruin your friendship. That you knew him too well to like him like THAT.

But now, all Steve could think about was touching you, filling his hands and mouth with your pliable flesh....his cock twitches in his jeans and he jumps as you throw yourself into the passenger seat, red faced.

"Let's go." You murmur, looking straight ahead.

A couple of days later you're at Family Video, picking something to watch with your mom. You had exploded at her for letting Steve in that day, and now you had calmed down, were at pains to make it up to her.

"What's the deal with you and Steve?" Robin whispers urgently, suddenly appearing next to you.

"What?" You swallow, picking up a random movie and pretending to study the back of the case. "What do you mean?"

"You're barely speaking. It was the same the other night, at the movies." She hisses, going through the motions of straightening the shelf.

"We were watching the movie." You shrug, picking up something starring Richard Gere- a guaranteed mother pleaser.

"And afterwards, when we went for ice cream, it was like you were scared to look at each other or something." Robin continues.

Yeah, you had to admit, it had been awkward. Usually you and Steve would sit together, sharing snacks and making comments about the film, but you had positioned yourself so that Robin was between you. It can't have been much fun for her.

You sigh and turn to her. "He walked in on me getting changed, when he was picking me up to go to the movies."

Robin laughs, causing Steve to look over, frowning, from the counter.

"Robin!"

"Sorry but, it all becomes clear now." She chuckles.

"It does?" You're lost.

"Exactly how much did he see?" She probes, looking disconcertingly delighted.

You gesture vaguely to your chest and Robin nods.

"I get it. Dumbstruck by your tatas."

"Tatas, Robin? Seriously?"

"Maybe he liked what he saw." She says slyly.

"What?"

"He's probably just thinking about getting his hands on them."

"My....tatas? " You swallow, glancing over at Steve. He's leaning over the counter, chatting with a pretty girl and she's laughing at one of his stupid jokes. Jealousy twists in your gut like so many times before.

"Yeah, I mean he's obviously got a thing for you." Robin says, matter of factly.

"No." You scoff, your face burning. "As if!"

"It's true. That's why he's so jealous of your crush on Michael J Fox."

"Really?" You cast your mind back to all the times you had a tiny inkling that there might be the remotest chance in hell that Steve had feelings for you and you had dismissed it. Sometimes you caught him looking at you but you had thought he was just spacing, off in Harrington world. Could it be TRUE ?!

"And I've seen you looking at his butt." Robin says, winking conspiratorially.

"I'll go for this." You announce, handing over the Richard Gere movie. "My mom's bound to love it."

"Nice subject change." Robin deadpans, rolling her eyes.

The next weekend, Steve invites you over to his house for a movie night, his parents are gone as usual so he has the place to himself. Robin is also invited but she can't make it, (subtle!) off doing her own thing with Vickie.

Since your conversation with Robin you had noticed Steve looking at you more often, looking away and blushing when he's caught. It makes your heart (and everything else) ache.

On Friday evening he picks you up from the library and you swing by Family Video for snacks and a couple of free rentals. Just being near him makes your heart beat faster now, you can feel something has changed between you.

Now you're in the Harrington's den, curled up on the luxurious sofa while Steve sits in an armchair next to you. He's wearing one of your favourite shirts, a striped polo - it hugs his biceps just right, and shows off his delectable neck. Every time you glance over you have to squeeze your thighs together in an attempt to calm the throbbing in your cunt.

"I can't believe you made me watch Teen Wolf again." He sighs, as the credits roll.

"You know how I feel about MJF." You say, lightly, reaching to the coffee table for the popcorn.

"I don't even know why you like him." Steve grumbles. "He's so short, you're probably taller than him."

"He's cute." You shrug, smiling to yourself. "Now it's your turn. Please not Fast Times again!"

Steve produces a tape from behind the armchair. "Ta da! Fright Night!" He announces, raising his eyebrows.

"Steve, you know I don't do horror. I get nightmares." You remind him, clutching a cushion.

"It'll be fine. It's a comedy. The guy just HAPPENS to be a vampire." He says, crouching next to the tape player.

"OK." You murmur, unsure.

"If you get scared you can come and sit on my lap, ok?" He chuckles, glancing at you.

The offer hangs in the air for a minute, and you're not sure if he's really joking.

"Deal." You reply, softly.

Thankfully, the movie IS funny, which takes your mind off the more gory parts.

Steve grins at you when you laugh. "See, not scary."

It's almost like old times, except you're constantly thinking of ways to get closer to him. Should you pretend to be scared so he'll comfort you? Jesus, what have you become??

When the inevitable sex scene comes up, you watch with interest as Steve shifts in his seat and clears his throat, red faced.

The well-endowed woman on-screen takes her top off and he scoffs, flustered. "They're fake."

He flicks a look at your chest and swallows. Oh.

"Hey Steve," You say playfully, feeling bold. "My face is up here."

Steve stiffens in his seat, blinking. "Oh God I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"It's OK." You say softly. "Are her's nicer than mine?"

He almost chokes on his popcorn. "What?"

"You heard me." You smile, untucking your shirt from your denim skirt. "Would you like a closer look? For comparisons sake?"

Steve's mouth falls open slightly as he stares at you. "Seriously?"

You nod and pat the space on the couch next to you, your tummy doing somersaults of anticipation. "Come here."

He almost trips as he rounds the coffee table, and then pauses. "Wait, is this a prank? Is this something you and Robin cooked up? Is she behind the couch, right now?"

"No Steve." You laugh. "It's not a prank."

"Just checking." He sits down, eyes fixed on your hands as you unbutton your shirt, revealing the bra beneath.

Feeling more and more brazen, you open your shirt, letting it slip off your shoulder. "Well, are mine nicer?"

He tilts his head and then nods. "Yep." He croaks. "They're....nicer."

"You can touch me if you want."

Tentatively he places his hand on your breast and squeezes gently, making a noise in the back of his throat. "Fuck."

It feels so good to have his hand on you, the heat of his palm searing through the lacy material. You lean forward to kiss him and he suddenly leans back, a panicked expression on his face.

"No no no! Not again Harrington." He mumbles, jumping up. He starts pacing the room.

Shame and embarrassment bloom in your guts, and you draw your shirt back over your chest, folding your arms.

"What are you doing?" Steve asks, running a hand through his hair.

"I thought it's what you wanted." You say quietly, not looking at him.

"It is, believe me. It took all my strength not to just dive on top of you just now." He swallows.

"Well then?" You ask, plaintively.

"Do you really think it's a good idea? If we do...something, it'll change everything."

"It's already changed, Steve. I'm tired of just being your friend." You blurt. SHIIIIT.

"Really?" He asks, eyebrows knitted together. "I thought, well, you think I'm an idiot, right?"

"So? That's why I...." You sigh. May as well come clean all the way. "Remember, a couple of summers ago when I was a counsellor at that dumb camp?"

Steve chuckles coldly and folds his arms. "Oh yeah."

"I lost my virginity to that dickhead swimming instructor Adam? It was horrible."

"Ha!" He crows. "I knew it!"

"Yeah, I may have lied when I told you about it. It wasn't good or romantic, actually it hurt. But least it was mercifully brief." You admit.

"He hurt you?" Steve says, anger flashing in his dark eyes.

"Not intentionally. He just didn't care." You shrug. "And all I could think about was you. How I had wanted you to be my first."

In fact you had cried off activities for the rest of the day citing a stomach upset, and stayed in bed feeling sorry for yourself. You knew you were just another notch on Adam's bedpost, but part of you had just wanted to get your first time over with. Still, you couldn't help thinking about Steve, imagining for the thousandth time how it would have been with him.

When you returned to Hawkins, you made up a romantic midnight lakeside liaison, making Adam sound like an expert in the art of virginity taking. The reality of an uncomfortable bunk bed and thoughtless execution stayed with you. Steve had grinned and given you a high-five.

"Oh." His face softens and he sits next to you again. "Why didn't you tell me the truth?"

"Because its embarrassing. You were so caught up with Nancy...." You trail off, helplessly.

"Honestly, when you told me about that asshole I was jealous." Steve says, half smiling at the memory.

"You were?"

"I'd always thought I'd be your first too. You deserve to be fuc- I mean - treated - right." He reaches over and moves a strand of hair behind your ear.

"So what now?" You ask, heart hammering at his closeness.

Steve touches your face and kisses you gently, his other hand sliding under your shirt. "Do you still want to?" He murmurs.

You nod, already drunk from his touch. "Yeah."

You're on Steve's lap, thighs splayed over his, skirt rucked up over your hips. His hand is between your legs and he's rubbing your pussy through your panties, the thin material growing damper by the second.

"I can't believe this is happening." Steve murmurs, kissing your neck.

"Me neither." You gasp, squirming against his fingers as you pull his shirt over his head.

You run your hands over him, stroking his chest and arms, dropping kisses onto his shoulders. You've thought about this so many times, late at night when you couldn't sleep, touching yourself and wishing it was Steve.

Suddenly he takes his hand away from your aching cunt and you want to cry, you need more, you need to be full of him.

He removes your bra so stealthily you almost don't notice, pushing your breasts together and kissing them. When he takes a nipple into his mouth you start grinding on his leg, desperate for some relief.

Steve takes the hint and returns a hand to your pussy, fingers inside your panties now, thumbing your swollen clit.

"Did Adam make you feel like this?" He asks, lowly, sliding two fingers into you. "Make you this wet?"

"No." You whimper, as he curls his fingers. "Fuck, Steve!"

He chuckles, dirtily. "Are you ready for my cock? Because I'm about to burst here."

You undo his belt and let down his zipper, Steve sighs with relief and takes his cock out. Your mouth starts to water at the sight of it, so hard and leaking at the tip. Tentatively you touch him, stroking the length and swiping your thumb over the head.

Steve shifts you on his lap, pulling your panties down impatiently, his eyes almost black with desire. You kiss him softly, feeling such tenderness towards him, wanting to give him everything.

He lines his cock up at your entrance, and moves into you slowly, groaning as your velvety walls hug him. While you appreciate his gentleness, at this point you just want him to fuck your brains out.

"Steve, I'm not a virgin, you don't have to be so- aaahhh!" You mouth drops open as he snaps his hips and fucks up into you, filling you with one thrust.

"You OK?" He gasps.

"Yeah....feels good." You swallow, gripping his shoulder for leverage.

He slides his hand into your hair and pulls you down for a kiss as he moves inside you. You moan into his mouth and rock your hips to meet his thrusts, placing a hand on his sweaty chest.

This was worlds away from what had transpired with Adam, you're not even sure that was sex. There was only his smug expression afterwards and the blood on the bunk bed blanket that was testament to what had occurred that afternoon.

"Fuck, why didn't we do this sooner?" Steve gasps, flush-faced, hands on your hips.

"Because you're an idiot." You sigh affectionately, stroking his hair and kissing him.

He bends his head to nuzzle at your breasts again, and you feel the first spark of an orgasm in your belly.

"Steve." You whine, your hand moving down to rub your clit. He brushes your hand away and takes over, his fingers moving in tight circles.

"Yeah thats it." He breathes. "Cum on my cock sweetheart."

You bury your face in his shoulder as your orgasm rolls through you, holding onto him and moaning against his hot neck.

"Aw fuuuck ..." Steve groans, and you feel him stiffen and throb deep inside your cunt.

You don't want to move. You don't want it to be over yet.

Steve lets out a breathless chuckle, you feel it rumbling through his chest.

"What?" You murmur, exhausted all of a sudden. You could fall asleep right here.

"We forgot about the movie."

You turn your head and see the tape has ejected itself from the player, the TV screen blank.

"Oops."

#steve harrington x you #steve harrington x female reader #steve harrington smut

723 notes · View notes

fvrxdrm · 3 years

Note

hmm maybe post mission sex with chamber pls 👀

switchin’ my positions 4 u

Pairing: Chamber x F!Reader

Warning(s): NSFW, slight angst, looooooong

I just combined these requests since they have the same concept anyway and the second request was kind of vague. Killing two birds with one stone amirite>>>

*****

It's so unfair how there are people out there who can manipulate your brain into becoming a whole new psyche with just their looks, smell, touch, and you wouldn't even know whether they're doing it intentionally or not. They can just look you in the eyes and it's only a matter of time before you're wobbling in place and turning into a mess of a puddle.

Sometimes we question: what goes on in the psychology of sex? What is it in humans that gives us the ability to titillate others and be titillated ourselves with just simple gestures? For you that's something you don't think you can find the answer to as people see things in their own abstract way. Yes, we may think similarly but nevertheless we don't think the same. We've all established a base, substantially, but just go in different ways from that.

With that in mind, you never saw it as a bad thing. In fact, you'd let your partner do that to you anytime as long as he doesn't take advantage of it and take you to the point where it's too much and is painful.

And boy, oh boy, Chamber was not one to disappoint.

*****

There are a million ways to say "I love you", and there are a million ways to express love in a non-verbal method. But either way, you never had the guts to confess how you felt as possibilities were always the main factor of your anxieties. Well, maybe you sprinkled a little bit of the latter but that was it. You just did them to hopefully throw away some hints, though, you knew they weren't enough to profess your undying love for your friend (and fuck buddy). So, you just stuck to being friends with benefits with Chamber just to experience what it felt like being closer to him than how friends usually are. You just stuck to fantasizing what it would be like to be his now and forever, even in the afterlife. You might sound like an obsessed bitch but to be honest, you were lost. You didn't know how to deal with everything at this point; from your lifestyle, to your love life, to your job that you never even intended to be recruited in anyway. Everything was a nightmare. You felt like you had an excuse but you didn't at the same time. You wanted to get some help from somebody but you knew it would be useless if this was going to be your experience of a lifetime. And so, you never knew how to deal with catching feelings, especially since Chamber was the first true love that ever had a very special place in your heart, and you didn't know what was healthy and what was not. It was painful, that's for sure. But until fate's decided to either tear you apart or piece you together, your relationship was going to remain like that, even with a heavy heart and bloodshot eyes.

Those who didn't know the narrative of what was actually happening between you and Chamber would confuse you two of being a romantic couple. It was something you often laughed at and made fun of behind their backs but deep inside, you wanted that. You wanted every abiding kiss on your lips to be reasoned with the fact that you both cared about each other in a way you never had, you wanted every bite on your neck and what was left of it to be a symbol of what went beyond that, you wanted every bliss to be the result of genuine love and temporarily worn-out lust. It was a veracity smothered by foolery. A grain of truth in every joke.

And so, instead of experiencing the pleasant tingle his touch was supposed to tickle on your ever-beating heart, you felt heaviness weigh down from your chest to your stomach; a poisoned density that made your insides churn in an obnoxious way and almost made you physically vomit. It made your head pound in an ill way but as time and months went by, you got used to it. You wondered if it was because you became numb or if it was because you've succumbed to the fantasy of being engulfed in those arms of his. Maybe both. Come what may, you never wanted to find out.

You were suddenly pulled out of the perplexing dwam of your mind when you felt Chamber's slightly chapped lips kiss and lick the purpled spot just below your ear. It was one of the many hickeys on your skin that he'd painted with his mouth, one of the very few he'd paid attention to due to the fact that you seemed to enjoy him sucking on it judging by the way you writhed underneath him and panted intensely like a dog. Reliving that moment from earlier before the mission was such a good idea, he thought, as he got you to cling onto him just by taking advantage of the delicate skin over there.

You began to breathe heavily at his contact on your neck, at the feeling of him retouching what appeared fainted on the surface. Your hand slid down from where its dainty fingers were toying with his hair strands to where his pectorals flexed and relaxed under your caress. He chuckled with a jolt at the sensation of you tickling him, squeezing your side a little bit as an involuntary reflex. This caused you to giggle yourself.

Instances like this invariably made the atmosphere lighter every time sex was heavy on both of you, outrageously hilarious or not. They took your mind off of the darkest thoughts and possibilities and they made everything all the more delicious afterwards. Sudden witless "commercial breaks", as you liked to call it, were a reminder that not every intimate thing had to be perfectly romantic and passionate to be enjoyable like those cliche erotic movies you watched to feel horny, that not every fuck had to be solely about sex. They also helped you take out the toxins in your soul like the once I've mentioned earlier even for just a certain amount of time. Sex is supposed to help you relax, to make you feel good. So, why not spritz in a bit of goofiness to add a little bit of rainbows and unicorns?

Air blew out of you when you felt Chamber's cock nudge your clit as it twitched against your cunt, a shuddering rush of heat trickling through you. As for your partner, he hissed through his teeth and might've bitten on your collarbone a bit too much that you jerked in surprise.

"Chamber," you mumbled with a gasp. He apologized for the sudden discomfort he'd cause before gently kissing the reddening spot. It soothed the pain somehow, but you know what would make it all the more better? If he would just kiss you a few spots higher than your neck.

You let the tips of your fingers creep up against the bottom of Chamber's chin, curled your index as it came to a stop, and pulled his face up where you could kiss him once again. The kiss didn't feel as desperate as it was before, if anything it felt like it was just a tickle on your lips and if you didn't know any better, you might've mistaken it to have something unspoken from his side and yours. But you were smarter than that, you thought.

As he came to claim your bottom lip with his own pair in a shy lip-lock, his hands ghosted up your sides and crept towards your chest where he curved them on your breasts. There he began playing with them. He softly squeezed them, rounded them, and tweaked your nipples, causing you to gasp against his face and to pull away shortly before he placed his lips back on yours.

Chamber was so good at this. He knew how to make you weak just by his touch. How dare he make you fall on your knees before him?

It wasn't so long when he pulled away with a soft smack, your lips stretching and then parting at the dampness of your almost dried saliva. His arms supported him whilst he raised himself up as to not crush you and to get a better look at you.

Tu étais si belle.

There was just something in the darkness that made you look so alluring but he wasn't sure what it was. Maybe it was the way he could still very much see how your pillow was bestrewn by the messiness of your sweat-dampened hair, maybe it was the way he could feel your plump breasts rising and falling against his chest, maybe it was how your half-lidded eyes stared into his own, finding and looking into something of the unknown, maybe it was the way the cunning moonlight had snuck in through the curtain gaps and illuminated the brightness of your eyes and defined the pronounced parts of your skin, or maybe it's the little bit of everything that made him fall into your hypnotizing trap. You were a goddess at heart, even more so when he's made a mess of you; sweaty body, hoarse throat, and all that.

Chamber felt himself being dragged out of his thoughts when your warm and clammy palm rested on his right cheek. Then, he heard your voice speak softly to him, "Chamber, you okay?" Chamber had to bite his lip to stop himself from snickering before replying.

"Oui, ma chérie," he said, "but I want to ask, is it all right if we try something new? I promise it is not going to be painful." He kissed your cheek as reassurance, though, he didn't really need to as you knew Chamber wouldn't harm you in any way, given that he was trying to turn his life into a full 180̊ and was trying to be one to not make someone suffer the way he never wanted to himself.

Your bottom lip found its way in between your teeth as anticipation flooded in your head and in your heat. "Well, there's nothing wrong with trying something new, right?" You said, snaking your arms around his neck and pulling him closer. Chamber smirked at your response before giving your lips one last peck.

*****

My oh my.

Who knew tying someone up and blindfolding them would look this hot?

As he promised to himself, he started off small and avoided skipping to the wilder parts of BDSM as he didn't want to scare you off and shock himself. Also, considering a tie and a bandanna was all he had for a quick finding, they were the only things he could make use of. The belt could wait. Right now, he'll just take in the sight of his sweet but fierce girl tied up on his bed, blindfolded, and with no clothes on to protect yourself from the sneer of the moonlight.

Chamber watched as you moved your legs in anticipation for what might happen next. From the way you drew in some air, he could tell you were feeling a concoction of different emotions, most probably nervousness and excitement. Nervousness? He didn't know why. But excitement? He felt like he could understand how not seeing what your partner might do can arouse you in a whole other level.

What was taking him so long? You thought, sniffling with impatience. You heard the shuffling of feet on the floor and felt the dipping of the mattress on either side of you as Chamber hovered above your hips, but you hadn't sensed him doing anything after that. Your brows furrowed.

Was he going to touch you or what?

Even with a blindfold on, there was no mistaking that Chamber was staring down at you intently, you could discern it. You felt like a prey ready to be devoured by a predator, wrists all bound and visual perception covered as to keep yourself from escaping the wilderness and take a grasp of any idea of where to go. This caused you to squirm because quite frankly, you felt rather uncomfortable being in a situation like this. All you wanted to do was to run and hide under the sheets.

You were beginning to feel agitated at what he was doing unseen by you and was about to ask what was wrong but as if Chamber could read your mind, he slowly let his hand touch the smoothness of your mound and dragged one of his fingers against your cunt. Man, he almost couldn't control himself once he felt your heat smoothly slide against his middle finger, it just felt so perfect and delicious. He guessed it was because his brain was making him think of what he would do to you with all your juices readying you up for what was to come, and maybe it was also the fact that you were so easily stimulated by the mere touch of his hands. He caused this. He caused you to stir up the wild vixen in you, and no doubt was Chamber proud of himself.

At the feeling of Chamber's sudden touch on your pussy, you jolted and gasped in surprise, your fists clenching on the tie that was keeping you from pushing him away. You were startled so badly that you felt like the bed jumped along with you. "Fuck, Chamber!" You exclaimed under your breath. Promptly, your ears were blessed with Chamber's deep chuckle at your reaction as he lowered himself to you.

Though your sight was blocked away by the vaguely rough fabric of his handkerchief, you felt a light puff of Chamber's breath just by your left tit. You were certain that he was going to suck the life out of it, and sure enough, you were right. Chamber had formed his lips into a small "o" against the contrasting bud on your chest, pulling it with his teeth; enough to get a moan out of you, but not enough to hurt you. You tugged on the tie for the first time and arched your back, pushing your breast to him in the process as you cursed under your breath. By then Chamber had put in more pressure on your sex and paid the most attention to your clit, a skill he was definitely pleased to brag about in bed. If he were to be compared with all of the men you've been with, you would, without a doubt, pick him because of it (along with all the other "talents" he had, too). He could make you come in a matter of minutes just by the use of his fingers! What's not to love? Shit, you couldn't even do what he does yourself and you knew your body way more than he did.

Chamber's middle digit began to gain speed as it circled the erectile part of your sex, all the while he continued to play with your hardened bud with the same amount of motion as his hand. It felt like the power of the air-conditioner was dying out what with the rush of heat that was surrounding you. But if you were to observe intently, the AC was functioning properly. It was just getting hot because of the adrenaline inundating inside of you and the hormones beginning to reach their peak. Degree by degree, the fever fighting through the cold commenced in filling the room as your high was setting in to punch out of you. You felt yourself shake against Chamber's touch and he felt you, too. But before he could let you release what was built inside of you, he removed his finger and pulled away from your bosom, very much intent on edging you. You whined at the lost of contact and at the ebbing of your closely-released orgasm. This didn't go unnoticed by Chamber and he tittered again - which you noted he did so frequently tonight, you thought it was going to be another addition to his sexy personality - while he simultaneously rubbed your side.

It was so hard calming your frantic heart, you realized you were holding in most of your breaths and forgot how to breathe properly when he touched you using his finger and mouth. That's how much power Chamber had over you. With just one touch air would banish from your mind and you wouldn't register that oxygen was a thing until much later when the blizzard has been tranquilized. But despite that, you knew this was just the calm before the storm and there was more to come your way.

*****

As everything was steadying to a slow and synchronized beat your mind came to wander against the silence; were you just somebody Chamber could toy with occasionally or was there something hidden beneath the surface of his lust? Were you just like his coffee cups - tempting and disposable? Something he could play his games with until he found someone better to beguile using his charm? What if you misled yourself into coming in for the glamour and then eventually leave with a twisted story? You couldn't lie, you were scared of that. You were scared that one day Chamber would get tired of you and find beer and skittles from someone else.

But why even bother, anyway? You weren't his; you never were, you never are, and you probably never will be. There were just some silly and stupid unresolved feelings from your side.

You've grown limp from your thoughts. You hadn't noticed just how much everything has taken a toll on you until now. Your feelings, your views, your demons. You wondered if things would get better as the clock ticked and luck remained by your side. It was only a matter of time before you break and you feared what came along with it.

"Are you okay?" You heard Chamber speak as he stroked your hair. He never saw it nor noticed anything in particular, but tears had begun brimming your eyes. They seeped through the fabric of the bandanna but lucky for you, the folded material was thick enough to not let the wetness leak through, and even if it did, the room was too dark for him see.

You bit your lip, preventing it from trembling right in front of him. Then, you replied, "yeah, y-you can proceed now." Chamber smiled softly at you - though, he knew you couldn't see it - and placed a delicate kiss on your forehead before crawling back to where his face met your hips.

"Good. I will make you feel tremendously good, je promets."

Behind the blindfold you closed your eyes when the tip of Chamber's nose lightly touched the tender skin of your inner thigh. He teased it with care, rubbing his nose from side to side as to tickle it. If the blindfold wasn't in the way, you would've stared at the ceiling and waited in expectancy at what was next, counted imaginary stars and connected them to form into illusory shapes until Chamber would break the barrier and make you close your eyes. For now though, you would have to make do with what was in front of you.

By now Chamber had placed wet kisses on your skin, nibbling it from time to time and even sucking on it for a bit. He was surprisingly being moderate with his touches, you thought. You inhaled a small amount of air at the ticklish sensation of his lips and his bites and your leg jerked away from his face.

You weren't sure what Chamber was up to at this point. One second he's all rough and playful with you and your body, and then the next second he's saying that he'll make you feel good and being gentle all of a sudden. One side of you, the optimistic side, believed it was because he was trying to make love to you in the most confusing way. But then the other side of you, the irresolute side, screamed that he was just feeling like shifting the tides and that was it. The answer never really occurred to you even as months have passed since you've started this arrangement, but regardless of that, both soft and hard made you feel good in the best possible ways, even raising hills on your skin using his calloused one.

All the gasping you did since you've started was making your lips feel drier than what you felt was your limit. So, you stuck your tongue out and slid it against the chapped area to moisten it. But as you were doing so, Chamber suddenly motioned his broad tongue up against your pussy, resulting in you biting your tongue and clamping your thighs beside his head. A whimper of both pleasure and pain slipped in between pursed lips.

You hadn't meant to almost crush his head in between your legs, but you were caught off guard by the sudden contact of his wet muscle that you involuntarily moved them in defense. He grunted in return and carefully parted your thighs once again. "Sorry," you apologized. Chamber just hummed in response before telling you that it was okay and that he was sorry for startling you.

Before he proceeded with continuing where he left of though, he raised his head and took a glance at you in worry. "Are you okay, though? I saw you accidentally bite your tongue," he said as he stroked the smoothness of your skin as a way of comfort.

"Yeah, I'm good. Just surprised."

"Is it too painful? Do I need to stop?"

"No, no, you're good. Just continue what you're doing."

"All right, if you say so, mon cher." Chamber took one last look at you, searching for any indication that you were in some way harmed before carrying on with going down on you. The soft sigh that left your lips was enough to ease him from his worries and fears and he instead smirked against your sex.

To him, your pussy felt like the most perfect strand of silk; soft to the touch and so easy to slither against, he wouldn't mind touching it all day if given the permission to. Chamber loved how his cock would always feel so good sliding on and inside you, greeting your walls without so much strain and them hugging him in return oh so delightfully. As for the taste, he couldn't have found a dessert or even a whole meal that could come close to your juices, not even an inch in comparison. They just bring out the best in you, giving his eager tongue the tanginess he wouldn't find anywhere and from anyone else, especially. He could even tell you were taking great care of your insides just by the taste of them. And so, every time he was given the chance to relish in the sweetness of your liquids, he would always turn into this madman; hungry and thirsty for what was in front of him.

Chamber, with both of your thighs tightly gripped by his hands, ate the life out of your vagina. He teased your entrance with the tip of his tongue, collecting what came out of your cunt as it clenched and unclenched to the rhythm of his mouth. Sporadically, he would open and close his lips against the entirety of your sex as if he was making out with it without care. He was a hungry man after all, and a hungry man is never one to waste the blessings he was given, not even a single grain.

The series of licks he was presenting your body with was making you all the more hot and bothered and you've been tugging on the tie so frequently that you were afraid the headboard was going to be yanked too hard and would cause it to break and crash into your face. Though, to be frank, that was the least of your worries, especially since Chamber was giving you more of a reason to forget things as he lapped up your arousal.

At one particular moment, when Chamber had licked a bold stripe from your entrance to the very top end of your cunt, he enclosed his mouth around your clit and sucked so hard you felt like your soul was pulled out of you along with the stretching of the flesh around your pearl. This caused a loud whine to be coerced out of you as one of your hands clambered to get a hold of one of the headboard posts. Your back bent to a certain extent and your brows furrowed up, tears flooding the gates once again in a more pleasurable way. Along with them, curses exuded through clenched teeth and Chamber had to apply some force on your abdomen to keep you from moving around too much. You almost closed your thighs on his again, but lucky for you and lucky for him, he was strong enough to multitask and stretch your legs apart, too. Just how much talent did that mouth of his have?

"Fuck, Chamber!"

That one bold move was enough of a silent booster to your first orgasm, the one that he neglected earlier. He noticed how your body began to shake as the floodgates were ready to burst open. So, he devoured as much of you as he can until he felt the sudden rush of your come slide towards his tongue.

*****

Damn that man! Just how much power did he have to make you come that strongly every time?

Your heart beat in a more frantic manner than before now that your awaited release had come. It was getting really hard to breathe, you had to admit, but Chamber had let you take a few sips of water to help in calming down your heart and lungs.

You closed your eyes for a moment, just taking in the strength of your climax caused by that wonderful mouth of his. It's amazing how a certain body part of his could bring you to another ethereal world just by the use of that. He didn't need a second one to combine with his first as one could already reign so many kingdoms. He held so much supremacy that if he were a literal king, you would've bowed down so many times in his honor.

"Are you good?" You heard him ask. He'd licked the excess mess that was spread throughout his mouth and chin and wiped his saliva off of them with the handkerchief laying on his nightstand.

"Yeah, I've calmed down a bit at least."

"Good, because I have got one last gift for you." You thought the blindfold he tied behind your head was there to stay, but apparently not because he pulled the fabric up away from your face and threw it at the side where the forgotten sheet of blanket laid untouched. You looked up at him in confusion.

"I thought you wanted that blindfold on me the whole time?" You questioned.

The man answered with no uncertainty but with desperation, "no, I changed my mind. I want to see your face while I fuck you," before he pushed his lips to yours, his baby hairs tickling your face as he moved his head with yours. As he was busying your mind with the contradicting but surprisingly well-blended roughness and gentleness of his kiss, he stroked his shaft with the hand that wasn't supporting his weight a few times before slowly pushing into your heat with very little haste as to not hurt you. Chamber groaned from deep within his throat while you on the other hand mewled high into the night.

And with the door closed every pretense fell. The facade you showed the world melted away and all you wanted was to fuck each other's brains out.

The stretch between your thighs sent electricity through your nerves and the velvety walls that surrounded Chamber's cock sent white noises to his brain. He laid on top of you for a moment, staring into your eyes as deeply and as intently as he could take, to steady his breath intake before his hips started moving in a steady pace. There you saw the brownest chocolate turn to an even darker and more bitter shade, the smoke that continued to rise beyond his eyes as everything burned around you, like a fever.

It felt like fever was beginning to turn into a running gag between you and him, you thought. Every huge and small being was consumed by the flames of your past, present, and future, annihilating what was left unnoticed by you in certain moments. And in a way, you felt like fever was the perfect description for everything that had come your way. If we go back to science class, we remember that fever occurs when the body is trying to battle an infection, just like how the intimate moments you share battle what doesn't matter around you. Coincidence? You thought not.

You felt unsatisfied with how he was too slow with his pacing so, you spoke his name softly with a sigh and smiled when he hummed in response. "Fuck me." Chamber ceased all of his movements and just stared at you like a deer caught in bright headlights.

Never in the months of your arrangement had you spoken with such filth and vulgarity until now. You were such a fierce but sweet little vixen, too shy to even tell him to fuck you in bed. But he'd heard it, and in his mind, he thought that his sweet little vixen was growing up into a bigger and a more confident one, a thought that made his cock twitch inside of you; and that was enough for Chamber to slam into you as you screamed his name at such intense pleasure and pain. Chamber pulled back again, leaving his tip to be inside you and slammed inside again and continued on in a savage pace which caused your eyes to roll at the back of your head.

You bit your swollen lip once again (you wondered if you woke up the next morning your lip would be bloodied and wounded from how much you were biting it) as you held onto either Chamber's tie or the bedpost, listening to the bed creak underneath you at the frenetic energy Chamber was providing with each thrust. You screamed again and again, thanking the gods that the protocol’s base was founded with soundproofed walls because of how much the establishment firmly regarded respect and privacy.

You couldn't take it anymore. With how fierce Chamber's movements were, it was impossible not to come right away and so you did. Just after a few more thrusts, you writhed underneath him, tugging on his tie for the umpteenth time as you came rushing much stronger than before. You see what I mean by how one can reign so many kingdoms? He didn't even have to play with your clit.

Chamber felt the warmth of your orgasm coat the entirety of his dick, a feeling he never grew tired of throughout the months. He was always weak when a woman came before him, a fact he still held on to this day and was still proven by how quick he was to climax. His thrusts became sloppier once he felt the climb of his salty semen, and not long after he began grinding against you, the sensitivity on your clit making your hips jolt up a bit, before he released rope after rope inside of you.

*****

Jet lag from your most recent mission along with the exhaustion you gained from the sex came over you, the bolt of which beginning to overwhelm you both. Chamber had removed the binding on your wrists and even rubbed them for you. "Are you okay? No pain?" He asked.

"No pain. Just tired is all," you replied with an exhausted smile.

You didn't want to admit it but the rush of emotions began to weigh down on you again just like how everything was before it started. They felt like heavy sand on your eyelids, something that was causing you to grow more tired than how you should've been. But being in the luxury of his bed, you'd chosen to forget about your troubles for the night and deal with them tomorrow when your mind was on the right track.

“Darling,” you hear the faintness of Chamber’s voice against the vagueness from behind you. You simply hummed as a short response, not trusting your depletion to answer properly for you. “I was thinking, I am perfectly aware that I am doing this backwards but, will you do me the honor of letting me take you out on a romantic date tomorrow night?”.

*****

This was…long lmao, 5k words to be more specific. Hope you liked it though!

#chamber #chamber x reader #valorant chamber x reader #valorant chamber #valorant #valorant x reader

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