#echo bb x reader

[techtalksfics]

Headcanons: First Kiss

Authors Note: this is for the anon who sent in this very sweet prompt. I've tried to keep it fluffy but, you know, Crosshair is always gonna linger closer to smut than fluff. All of these will be small headcanon ideas, with small snippets of prose & dialogue. Hope you enjoy!

Tech

How long does it take for it to happen?

Well, this is Tech we are talking about. It takes him a ridiculously long time to even realise you are interested in him. It takes him even longer to realise that you like him like that. When he realises it, he would consult his brothers about it at the first opportune moment.

You'd always tried to show Tech that you truly cared for him. You'd be overly attentive when he visited the medical wing, even if it was just for something as simple as a check-up. The first time you'd treated him, you'd been careful with his injuries, taking your time, talking with him, giggling at his silly comments. His brother's had noticed your gentle touches and twittery giggles at his comments long before Tech did. They just left it alone. Tech would figure it out eventually, right?

Well eventually was a long time coming. It was easily over thirty rotations of your attentive behaviour, of you trying to get to know him, to show him you shared interests. Of you trying to get him interested in you. What you didn't realise is that he had always been interested in you on some level. He just didn't realise what level that was. One evening, the clones were all in there shared quarters, relaxing after another successful mission. Tech had arrived later than the others as he came to say hello to you first.

When he arrived at their quarters, he simply sat for a moment, pondering over his desire to speak to you first. Suddenly he queried why you acted differently with him than you did with the others. Hunter sighed, stopping his expert ministrations with his knife in hand, looked his brother in the eye and tells him, "because she likes you." When Tech frowned deeper, somehow more confused. Surely she liked all you? "She has a crush on you, Tech." Tech stopped fiddling with his comm device to look up at Hunter for a moment. "Perhaps I should discuss this with her," he decided as he stood, speedily exiting the room.

Crosshair, had been lying on his bed, listening to the whole thing. He lolled his head towards Hunter, twirling the toothpick in his mouth from the right to the left side and and muttered, "that poor girl is going to need the Force on her side now."

Who Instigates the first kiss?

Tech. This is definitely going to be Tech. Most girls would probably fear starting something with him unless they were 100% sure he felt the same. As he isn't particularly great with affection, that may prove difficult. But our sweet boy also doesn't have a great filter for his words and sometimes his actions. So I have no doubt that he would be the first to make a move, clumsy thought it may be.

Tech had sought you out after Hunter's revelation or confirmation. He found at your station and the lab was eerily quiet. The perfect opportunity, he had realised. So he simply squeezed your arm gently. to get his attention. You smiled and turned the moment you realised it was him and he smashed his lips to yours with reckless abandon. It was sloppy and fast and not what you thought it would be. But your heart soared regardless.

When he moved away, he explained, "Hunter said that you may have a crush on me. He is rarely wrong on such matters. Perhaps this time he was?" As he searched your face for signs of disgust. There were none. He seemed a little perplexed by the flush on your cheeks. He decided it best that perhaps he leave that moment.

Gentle or Hot Heavy first kiss?

Our sweet boy is always going to be gentle, cautious. Savouring it, even. He had perhaps been a little overzealous to reach out and kiss you like that, it was felt oddly forced. Even for him. But when you finally decide to reciprocate, the main is definitely going to want to savour the experience slowly.

As he went to leave, you quickly grabbed him by the hand and pulled him back. “I didn’t think you even noticed me. I’m sorry, it took my mind a minute. You sort of appeared out of nowhere,” as he opened his mouth to protest, you placed your fingers over his lips, moving closer to him, “how about we try that one again?” You leaned in, holding your hands in the folds of his armour so that he couldn’t retreat. When he felt softness of your lips, the warmth of cheeks and body against his, Tech finally closes his eyes and simply enjoys the sensation. All too quickly for his liking, you pull away. He adjusts his goggles and asks, “would you be partial to doing that again?” That earns a little giggle from you. Of course you wanted to do that again. And again. And again.

Crosshair

How long does it take for it to happen?

On sheer stubbornness of two people trying not to admit to their feelings (or as @littlebluebatbratt and I like to call it, playing a game of emotional chicken™), it's going to take some time. I feel like Crosshair would pair well with someone who could withstand the game as well as he could. So this could go on for a long time. I like to think the right girl would make him drop his pride and give in to her and his feelings.

“You should just cave,” he whispered, as he came up behind you. His breath was hot on your neck. You jumped out of your skin at the sudden contact. His approach had been so silent. You couldn’t help but lean back, flush into his body. He was simply so warm. Your mouth hung open at the contact, a huff of wind escaping you as you rest your head back against his shoulder. Then in a sudden realisation of what you were doing, you lurched away from him. As you began to walk away, you turned to face him, walking backwards and say, “if you want it, you know exactly how to come and get it” A smirk plastered on your lips as you sauntered away from him.

Who Instigates the first kiss?

Honestly, this would depend on the woman. As I mentioned above, I think, for Crosshair to truly fall for someone, she would also have to be a stubborn, pain in the ass with just a tad too much physical confidence. They would try desperately to get him to cave first, as much as they wanted to themselves. Eventually, the man would not be able to stop himself. One day, the endless flirting would turn into something more.

“You’re maddening, you know that?” He would say with a groan, he muffled behind his hand, as you softly rubbed your leg up and down his as you sat opposite each other in the mess hall.

“I know,” you said, popping a small bite of food into your mouth, with a smug grin. Suddenly, you would remove your leg and he immediately misses the contact. You move to leave the hall, knowing exactly what you were doing, but you could feel his shadow following you out. Perhaps it was finally time?

Pulling you into the nearest alcove, by your elbow with just enough force, he would simply stare into your eyes, desperate for you. You could see it. You could feel it. He couldn’t bring himself to say it, but he knew in that moment, as you stared at him with those big innocent eyes, that he had lost. He had fully lost himself in you.

Gentle/Hot Heavy first kiss?

It’s Crosshair. It’s hot and heavy. Of course. Particularly if they’ve been playing this game for a long time. All of this pent-up frustration would be unleashed into one extremely searing, deep, long kiss.

You would wrap your hands around his neck, the moment you realised he’d caved. You’d pull him in as close as you could, onlookers be damned. He’d have your body pinned against the wall, one knee between your thighs holding you in place as he leans in to kiss you. You place two fingers over his lips, looking deep into his eyes.

“I’m gonna need you to say it first,” you said with a smirk. He sighs looking away from you. Deciding it was time, he looked deep into your eyes, his own were hooded with a deep lust.

“Fine,” he grumbled, not breaking eye contact, “you win. I want you. I want you more than I want to win this.” That was all you needed. So, you yanked his head towards you and your lips met in a sudden and heated dance. It was everything you had been waiting for. His tongue quickly delves into your mouth exploring everything he had been imagining for months. His hands would wind their way into your hair, lifting your lips closer to his. His knee pushing further up into you, until you’re almost rutting on him.

Wrecker

How long does it take for it to happen?

Wrecker is extremely vocal and does not necessarily think a lot of things through. That being said, he’s also our super soft gentle giant. He would probably spend more time trying to kiss than actually successfully doing it. I think he’d be one of the fastest to go in for a first kiss with someone, particularly if they paid him lots of attention. Which obviously, all of us would.

“I just wanna kiss ‘em,” Wrecker moaned to his brothers, his head in his hands at the bar, “but every time I get close, I back out.” He all but slammed his head on the bar. “I’m a coward.”

“You’re not a coward, Wrecker,” Hunter said dumbly, placing his hand on his brother’s shoulder, “you’re just worried that she won’t return it. But she will.”

Wrecker lifted his head toward Hunter, “how could you possibly know tha’?” It was almost a whine as Wrecker spoke.

“Because she’s not blind,” Hunter said, holding back a chuckle, “she’s spoken to me about it. She wants to know what’s holding you back.” Wrecker sat upright all of sudden.

“You mean, she knows?” Wrecker felt positively sick with the nerves. “Well, no what am I supposed to do.” This time, Tech was the one to respond as he looked up from the schematics in his hand, “well, you could just try actually kissing her.” Tech’s head immediately dropped back down to continue reading. He made it sound so simple.

Who Instigates the first kiss?

Wrecker wants to. Boy, does he want to. He wants to whisk you into his arms and kiss you so soundly that you never want to leave his side. But he’s just a bundle of nerves and insecurities under all that muscle. Knowing that you know he’s been trying, only made it worse. In the end, it would all be on you.

“Hi Wrecker,” you said, hopping off the counter of the store you worked at, “how are you?” Wrecker scratched at his neck, almost immediately, mumbling out something about being fine.

“Wrecker,” you said as a plea, when you realised that he couldn’t look at you, “you don’t need to be afraid, Wrecker. Whatever it is you want, you can just tell me.” You placed your hand softly on his cheek, encouraging him to look at you. You knew what it was that was bothering him. It bothered you that he thought you'd even consider rejecting him. His eyes finally pierced into yours, fear covering all of his features. “I – uh – I been trying to kiss you for a while now,” Wrecker stumbled over his words as he rushed to get them out, “but – uh – didn’t know if you’d want tha’.”

“Of course, I want that, you silly man.” His eyebrows shot up high as you smiled at him softly. And yet, he still couldn’t do it.

Gentle/Hot Heavy first kiss?

It’s going to be gentle, as gentle as he can make it. You wouldn’t want to push him too far, too fast. Hot and heavy could wait. You just needed to get him over the first hurdle that seemed to be plaguing him so fully. You’d gone from friendly banter, maybe some gentle flirtation and some outright cheesy phrases on his part and regressed back to the awkwardness of when you first met.

You hopped back onto the counter, making yourself more level with him. The store was empty, now was your chance. You reached your hand out for him to take and he did so very willingly, you pulled him in between your legs. Cupping his chin, you forced him to look at your smile. “Wrecker,” you whispered so softly, “I want you to do it.” He seemed to debate things in his mind, as best he could. He bit at his lip, wanting to reach in but he still hesitated.

With a small, barely audible sigh, you placed a hand on his gentle and brought his face into yours. The moment he felt your lips on his, his heart soared, and his arms cradled you naturally. You were much smaller than him, so you became enveloped in him. You kiss became firmer, occasionally pulling your lips away to tilt your head a different way. You found his lips followed you whenever you moved. If you leaned back, he leaned forward. If you tilted one way, he tilted the other and held you tighter. Truthfully, it was perfect.

Echo

How long does it take for it to happen?

I think that post-Skako Minor, Echo’s mind will forever have self-doubt and his duty at the forefront. We see both when he is described as more machine than man, percentage wise. So, I think the build-up to the kiss would simply take a long time because he does let himself believe you’d want to.

“You know you’re wrong about her, right?” Rex said to his brother as they sat together post-mission. Everything had been successful. “She likes you.”

“She doesn’t like me,” Echo retorted, taking a sip of the steaming drink in his hands. He couldn’t help but let his eyes fall across the room towards where you were chatting with Gregor animatedly. Both laughing. He couldn’t help but smile at the idea of you liking him at all. God, he loved the way you laughed. The way you made his brothers feel happy whenever you were around.

“Oh, she definitely does,” Rex spoke with a smirk as he watched his brother falling in love from a distance, "and I think you like her too." Echo's head whipped back around to look at Rex, a crimson blush on his cheeks. He took another sip of his drink.

Who Instigates the first kiss?

I fear that it would have to be you. You are the only one that can convince him that you want him in a romantic way. Sure, Rex could try and convince him. As could any of his clone brothers, but they would never convince him enough for him to dare making a move. There were many, many others you could choose. So why would you choose him? Well, you'd have to convince him that your heart had chosen him long ago.

Rex had casually mentioned to you that Echo was leaving to find the Bad Batch, knowing full well what you would do. Honestly, he was a little fed up with the mutual pining.

“Echo,” you called out as you watched him walk away from Riyo Chuchi, it looks like you were catching him just in time. You knew there was nothing you could do or say to make sure he'd keep out of harms way. You now needed their help to save others. So this was your last chance to pluck up the courage you'd cowered away from for so long,“you weren’t planning on leaving without saying goodbye, were you?”

“I – uh – no, well, yes…perhaps?” Each of the words stumbled from his mouth as if chasing one another, pain masking over his features. You placed your hands on hips at that.

“Well how am I supposed to wish you luck if you keep running away before I have a chance?” You questioned him, allowing a flirtatious grin to creep onto your features. He blushed at that, you had such an effect on him, all from two very simple words. Good luck?

“L-luck?” He repeated back. As you stepped closer to him, he tried to steady himself, tried to remain steadfast and strong in your presence. You reached your hands up to his broad shoulders, running them across the coolness of the armour covering his broad shoulder.

“Yes, and luck that is truly good should be sealed with a kiss,” you said as you watched him through your lashes.

Gentle/Hot Heavy first kiss?

This would definitely be dependent on the circumstances, I’d say it would be a little bit of both. Particularly if it plays out as it does above. Or if it's any sort of goodbye or a hello after a long time. It'll definitely end up hot and heavy if he isn’t certain of his return. If he isn’t certain of your safety. He is going kiss you as if it is both the first and last time, he will ever kiss you.

With your hands on his shoulders, you’d reached up on toes and placed your lips to his softly. Your lips had ghosted over his so gently that he was convinced it had been a dream. And yet, it lasted just long enough for his eyes to flutter closed.

When they reopened, you stood there looking at him doe-eyed, expectantly and with a big grin on your face. With a soft, playful growl, he reached around your waist with one arm and span you around, you giggle all the while. Once he placed you back down, he reconnects his lips with yours with a sense of urgency and fire that shocked you. But you loved it. You loved the way he instantly delves deeper into your mouth. The way he moans into you. The way he kisses you like it was the last chance he would ever have to do so.

Hunter

How long does it take for it to happen?

I feel like the affection would develop quickly. Particularly if it were on Pabu. He feels safe and knows Omega is safe. It’s a community. Everyone is simply getting on with their lives. So, kissing you became one of the forefront thoughts in his mind. When Echo had arrived for support, everything goes a bit awry and his internal timeline for kissing you is made far more urgent.

“She’s something special, Echo,” Hunter said, staring at you with a smile. You were playing around with Wrecker and Omega in the distance. He could hear the melody of your laughter as he leaned into the wall watching you. “If we don’t come back from this, it’s going to hurt her.”

“We don’t have a choice, Hunter,” Echo reminded him, placing a reassuring hand on his brother’s shoulder, “she’ll understand.”

“Will she?” Hunter grumbled, entirely unconvinced. But he knew if he were to die on this mission, then he wanted to know what it was like to kiss you before he went. He had settled on that.

Who Instigates the first kiss?

Hunter. He'd already come close to kissing you more than once but he didn't want to rush it and it’s not that you don’t want but you knew he was withdrawn, stoic and more often than not, very serious. You were patient. You could do this on his timeline. So, when he was ready, he’d kiss you. You were certain of that. He often searched your eyes with a hand on your cheek and each time you prepared yourself for the kiss. But the kiss never came. At least, not until Echo had shown up and they were dragged back into the war they’d fled from.

“Hey,” he whispered as he approached you from behind. You were looking out over the balcony into the night sky, simply lost in thought. You knew he was leaving again.

“Hey yourself,” you murmured quietly, without facing him. You felt his presence at your side, though you could not feel his warmth. There was a safe distance between you. His hip dug into the wall as he simply watched you and waited. Waited until you could bear to look at him. He would wait. After a moment, you simply stated, “you are going again.”

“Yes.”

“I may never see you again.” You affirmed, knuckles whitening from your tight grasp on the wall in front of you. You still couldn’t look him at him.

“Yes.”

“But, if you can come back,” this time you turned to look at him, searching the depths of his eyes, “will you?” He reached his close fist to brush against your cheek softly, letting his hand settled at the hair tucked behind your ear. With a smile, he reached in close and whispered, “yes.” Your lips parted with a prickly shudder down your spine as his free hand traced the curve of your spine.

Gentle/Hot Heavy first kiss?

I think the first time would be gentle but sensuous. He would anticipate your needs and would want the depth of his feelings to be felt as he melded his lips with yours. He wanted to convince you of your future. That there could be a future, even though he could never be certain of that.

As he pulled back from his whisper, he did as he often did and placed his hand firmly on your cheek. You knew he wouldn’t pull away this time. This was the last chance either of you would have until they returned. If they returned.

“Don’t kiss me,” you murmured, “if the only reason is that you aren’t sure you’re going to return to me.” Tears began to prick at your eyes as you looked at him.

“I’m going to kiss you,” he said, raising his other hand, to your other cheek, “because I have to know what kissing you feels like, in case I never return.” He leaned in and brought his lips to yours in a searing kiss, full of longing and passion. You couldn’t help but moan as his strong hands pulled you in as close as he could have you. Your hands wove into his hair, pulling softly at the silky strands. He pulls back, but only to tilt his head from one side to the other before delving in to kiss you again. It seemed to last both an eternity and no more than a fleeting moment.

“If I don’t come back,” he whispered as he pulls away, “just know that you have made me a happy man.” He dropped his forehead to yours, allowing his eyes to close with the affection that coursed between you.

[dearhargrove]

Survivors

Evan Buckley x reader

summary You're taking care of Christopher when Buck comes home, looking absolutely drained and in shock and goes straight to Christophers room. You overhear the news and make sure to care for both Chris and Buck.

word count 1639

tags pretty much episode 14 season 4, Eddie gets shot but it's not described, Buck is sad :(, Chris being the precious kid he is

a/n the way I sat there in silence when Eddie got shot is crazy. Like first they hurt us with Athena and Bobby's fight and then one second passes and Eddie (my bb) gets shot I'm so confused 😭 anyway I couldn't take it when I saw bucks reaction so I wrote a fix it for me. Also I screen recorded off of an illegal site to make gifs LMAO

masterlist

You're washing the dishes when the front door opens and closes, footsteps echoing through the hallway and living room - right past the kitchen.

“Eddie?” You call and the steps stop. Instead of the man you'd expected there's your husband, Buck. He looks distraught, eyes bloodshot and lips bitten raw. What the hell happened? He doesn't even really look at you, it's like he's looking through you. “Buck? You okay?”

He licks his lips and blinks a few times but he doesn't reply. He walks straight to Christopher's bedroom, you following after him in confusion and worry. Why was he alone and why did he look like he'd seen a ghost or worse?

He stops before entering Chris’ room, but not to wait for permission to come in but more like hesitancy. He balls his hand into a fist and takes a deep breath before walking in. You take his spot in the doorway and watch with a worried frown as Buck squats down in front of Chris who's sitting on his bed, playing a video game.

“Where's Dad?” Buck looks down and you see him swallow again before he looks into the kids eyes. “He's.. not coming home tonight, Chris.”

Chris seems almost unbothered by it but considering that Eddie had to stay in the hospital overnight almost regularly due to his job, it was a reasonable reaction. But Buck doesn't seem to think the same and shakes his head minimally.

“Did he get hurt? In a fire?” Chris inquires and Buck turns his head to the side and slowly shakes it in negation. Before explaining it he sits down next to Chris and pinches the bridge of his nose, frowning. “No, not- not in a fire.” He takes another deep breath before continuing, “The truth is someone hurt your Dad.”

It's been a while since you've heard his voice so sullen and raspy from crying - probably since the last visit from his parents and that was weeks ago now. You slowly and quietly come into the room as well, standing at the foot of the bed and next to Buck with his back turned to you.

He regards you with a short glance before focusing back on Christopher, confirming his question, “Yeah, a bad guy.”

You see him reach up and wipe under his eyes, frowning in empathy as you put your hand between his shoulder blades and slowly move it up and down in hopes to calm him down a bit.

“Is he gonna be okay?” Chris asks and you're glad he did because you want to know too. Buck looks at him again and nods. “Your Dad is tough. He's a fighter.”

“He's with the doctors now? The ones that fixed you?” Chris inquires and Buck nods. You see the conflict on his face before the ten year old nods, “Then he's gonna be fine.” You hum and Buck glances your way before focusing back on Chris. Just as he's about to say something his phone pings twice and he looks down at it.

Over his shoulder you see the message as well, stemming from Bobby.

Out of surgery. Doctors say it went well.

Your heart basically drops in relief and Bucks seems to as well when his phone drops from his hand and he pretty much caves in, dropping his chin to his chest as he sniffles and exhales deeply.

You thread your hand in his hair and he automatically leans into you, resting against your stomach as he starts to cry. His hands grasp at your hips before his arms wrap around you and he sobs.

“Shh, it's okay, baby. Eddie's gonna be fine. Right, Chris? Your dad's strong.”

The young boy nods and you smile assuringly as he reaches out and wraps his arm around Bucks shoulders to pat his back. You melt at the sight and ruffle his hair which he usually doesn't like - only his dad is allowed to - but now he just looks at you with worry and confusion.

“How about you go and get ready for bed, hm?” It's not a question and it is a reasonable time for him to head to bed anyway, so he complies and slowly walks to the bathroom.

When he's out of earshot you sit next to Buck and let him fully wrap his arms around you and put his head on your chest as he cries. “H-He got shot right in front of me,” he starts with hitching breaths. “He just dropped and his blood was all over me-” he sobs deeply and you kiss his head while trying to process this yourself. He got shot?

“You couldn't have prevented it, love. He's gonna be fine. Eddie survived a lot, he's going to pull through this time, too.” Buck shakes his head and pulls back enough to look at you, blue eyes glossy and chin quivering as he gasps between another sob.

“It shouldn't have been him!” This devastates you and you cup his face in your hands, your worried expression replaced by a stern one. “It shouldn't have been anyone. Not him and not you, either. You hear me?”

He whimpers and you sigh, wiping your thumbs under his eyes and placing a long, soft kiss on his birthmark. “As soon as we can, we'll go visit him. But now you have to be strong, for Christopher. He looks up to you, if he sees you sad he'll be sad, too. Let's get him to bed, and I'll take care of you after.”

You take his hand and put it over your heart, exaggerating your breaths so he could match his and calm down. Right when he does he opens his eyes again and his frown fades enough to only be barely visible. “‘m sorry.”

The shake of your head is immediate, shutting up any further apologies. “No. It's good to let it out. I'm here so you can do exactly that if you need to. I love you, Evan. Nothing's gonna change that.”

He pulls his hand from your chest and tangles it with yours instead, gently kissing your knuckles and then your inner wrist.

He used to hate his name after it reminded him of his parents- of how they treated him. It reminds him of a life where he had to endure pain to receive love and attention.

But when you say it, it makes his heart beat faster in a good way. It makes him want to move on from his trauma or at least learn to deal with it.

And moreover it makes him feel validated. With you, he's not just Buck. He's also vulnerable, emotional and a bit cheesy. He's Evan. Evan, who's had more jobs in more cities than he can count on one hand because he was trying to find his place in the world. Evan, who likes the ocean but has been uneasy around it ever since the tsunami.

You smile lovingly and peck his forehead just as Chris comes back inside. He's wearing some dino pajamas and you ‘ohh’ at him which makes him giggle and turn as if to show off his outfit.

You move up from the bed - Buck going with you and standing at the foot of it - and untuck the bedsheets. “Get in there.” Chris grins and lays down, letting you tuck him in.

“Don't be sad, kid.” He says to Buck, who tries and fails to hide a new round of tears building up in his eyes. You had no clue where and why Chris sometimes calls Buck or even Eddie ‘kid’ but both of them seemed to love it.

“I'm just a bit worried for your Dad. But he'll be fine,” he adds the last part when you glance at him warningly, not wanting Chris to worry, and smiles. “Goodnight, bud.”

You leave his nightlight on and the door open as you leave.

Buck settles on the couch and watches as you approach and stand in front of him.

He leans back into the couch and looks at you with those puppy dog eyes that make you melt every single time he looks at you. Damn him and his beautiful eyes.

“I'm really scared. I don't know what I would do without him… when he laid there and looked at me, I-” he inhales sharply and looks at his hands, picking at his nails and reopening an old abrasion in the process.

You take his hand into each of yours to stop him and sigh, “I think you're gonna have to move from monthly sessions to biweekly, babe.” You know his therapy has been helping him a lot and you're glad he's working on coping with his trauma, but this addition is going to complicate not just his home life but also work - especially when Eddie comes back.

He groans and pulls you down until you're sitting on his lap, knees on either side of his thighs and his hands on your hips. “I appreciate your help, lovie, but just let me try and rest a little right now, please?”

You smile and card a hand through hair, moving to get off his lap so he could get comfortable on the couch. “Where do you think you're going?” He huffs and you're pushed onto your back before he's leaning over you, laying between your legs.

“You're gonna use me as your pillow?” You prompt and he nods, laying his head on your shoulder and nuzzling his nose into your neck and against your pulse point. You're familiar with his constant search for proof that you're alive and well; you supposed it comes from not just the job but his abandonment issues, too.

It didn't matter to you though, as long as you got to hold him at the end of the day you'd let him maneuver you into whatever way made him happy.

[therealbatgirlishere]

Trips in. (Tripin.) p1!

First fic! Kindness or constructive criticism is allowed. No req 🫶🏽

miles morales e-42 aged up! X bb mama reader aged up! miles age: 23 readers age: 22

context: you and Miles had broken up, due to a bad fight (petty argument) with a bad outcome, but anyways It’s been months and you’ve both pretty much moved on…right? Well, after you had finished getting dolled up to have a fun night with you and your girls, you had to drop your son off.. as you were planning to leave you might have been a bit.. interrupted?

You were chilling, just having finished your makeup and hair, you were going out with your girlfriends so you wanted to look nice as usual. Miles was comin in to take you n his kid,  sure. It’s a bit awks having to still communicate with the baby daddy after you both broke up but hey, at least your boy got a dad in his life. You were packing your sons things, placing clothes in his little bag, spare shoes a toothbrush and more, including a small treat for the road (a twix or stm Wtv u want.) after you had finished, you called your boy over. 

“Zion! ven aquí!” You shouted from upstairs, seconds later you heard the pitter patter of tiny feet coming up the stairs, your child then poking his head out of the door. 

“Mama?” Zion asked, in his cute lil voice you could see his little brown fro poking out as well as his eyes. You smiled, “Zion, you ready to see your papa?” You questioned, lips curling upwards. Zion gave a small nod. Cute. Your 4 year old son waddled his way over to you and gave you a hug, small arms wrapping around your knees and face dig into your legs. You patted your sons head.

 “Alright, I’ll put your bag on so you’re all ready.” You then picked up your son and settled him down on his comfy race car bed. He looked up at you, when you really looked at him, you could see miles, a resemblance between him and you in there…what were you just thinking? No. Stop thinking about that man. Focus. you were halfway through putting on his bag.

Knock knock knock

The sound echoed through the house, you had a feeling it was him, who am I kidding it was him. But, you had to make sure. 

“Zion,  stay here okay? I’ll call you down if papas here.” You said, holding his shoulders and being eye to eye with him before pecking his forehead quick and softly, then making your way downstairs and to the door, you were calm. Why wouldn’t you be? Face blank as you headed to the door.

Click.. creeeakkk

You opened the door, and there he was the 6’3 tall dark skinned male, mini Two-Strand twists,   the same blank expression as always. Wearing a white coloured wife beaters n a black zip up jacket with loose fit jeans, a silver chain and ring on his finger. 

(If ur wondering why he looks different it’s because he’s aged up, so ofc he would get taller and want to switch his hairstyle up etc. dw tho you can still imagine him looking the same ig.)

“…” he stared down at you,  hands in his pockets a lacklustre expression on his face as he then looks behind you. Searching for his son.

Where’s Zion at?” He asks, raising an eyebrow as he looks behind you still. Wow. Rude much? 

The man can’t even be bothered to say hi to the mother of his child.

“Well, Hi to you too. Miles.” You reply, giving him a sarcastic smile before rolling your eyes and turning your head back towards the house.

 “Zion! Your dads here!” You called him over, your son then poked his head out, a grin from ear to ear appeared as he then let out a small giggle. He then ran down the stairs, loud thumping being heard as he made his way down. 

“Ay.” You sucked your teeth in slight annoyance when you saw him running to fast down the stairs, almost tripping but saving himself. 

“Hijo, don’t run down the stairs you’ll fall.” You scolded him, putting a hand on his shoulder as he went to go hug your knees again, nodding a bit then looked up at his dad. 

“He’s jus a kid Chica.” Miles said, looking at you. What an ass. He still had that deadpan expression going on. You shook your head slightly and scowled.

“Just looking out for my son.” You replied, scowling removed as you looked back at him, crossing your arms. Jeez, did he have to be this annoying? You questioned in your head.

“You mean our, son.” He responded, then stared slightly more closely to your face, his eyebrows then knit together. “You wearin makeup? And what’s up with yo fit and hair?” He asked, staring you up and down as he pointed. Does he have to know every single little thing about you? 

This is p1 cause I can’t be bothered writing the rest 😜

[taintedcigs]

GETAWAY CAR — rockstar!e.m. x f!reader

CHAPTER SIX: ALL TOMORROW'S PARTIES

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✦ summary: in which the truth about steve's party is revealed and eddie leaves reader another note (wc: 8.6k+)

✦ warnings — angst, ANGST, arguments, FIST FIGHT?!?, HUGE WARNING FOR BRUISES AND AN ABSIVE RELATIONSHIP!!!, mention of bruises, mention of shoving someone, BILLY IS ABSIVE, if this content makes you uncomfortable lmk so i can make a summary of it, or just skip the flash back (but its like half of the chapter>:() chrissy is horrible, BILLY is even more horrible, chrissy says some classist shit!!, eddie and p are an old married couple, drinking, smoking/weed

✦ pairings — rockstar!eddie munson x fem!reader, past billy hargrove x fem!reader

✦ authors note — @andvys ily thank u for always being so helpful w everything i hope u like this chapter bb!! not proof-read srry ignore mistakes !! and as i said this is a heavy chapter so lmk if any of u need a summary on the flashback. and im so sorry for making chrissy such a villain i actually rlly love her characterr >:(

anyway ily all pls interact + like + reblog to support me! i'd also LOVE LOVE to chat about anything abt this series it literally is my baby!! pls dont hesitate to send me an ask about anything mwah thank you for reading💗

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FIVE YEARS AGO.STEVE’S PARTY.

Twenty minutes.  You’ve been waiting in line for the bathroom at Steve’s stupid party for the last twenty minutes. Even plenty of people ahead of you had frustratedly groaned and left by now. But you weren’t going to give up that easy. 

A muffled string of curses filtered through the door before she turned the lock. The door creaked open slightly, revealing a glimpse of Chrissy's face.  She gave you a slight smile, and cluelessly, your face lit up. “Oh, thank god! Can you please let me in, I left my jacket in there.” You giggled, words tangled to each other as you made a clumsy attempt to slip past her, but she closed the door further.

With furrowed brows, you looked up at her. “Uh, I’m busy in here,” She giggled nervously, head tilting towards the side. “Oh,” You murmured.

“OH!” The realization was slow to hit you. She was with someone. You started grinning childishly. “Who’s the lucky guy?” You quipped your brows excitedly, causing Chrissy to stammer. 

You tried to pry open the door, brows still wiggling but Chrissy didn’t let you, mumbling something about being embarrassed. “Oh, come on, Chrissy…” You murmured, still grappling with her to open the door. 

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about—” you began with a childlike giggle, attempting to open the door even wider. 

Your giggles were quick to die down when the door fell open, no words dared to come out of your lips as you finally saw who Chrissy was with.  Billy.  Soberness overcame you just at the sight of Billy’s disheveled hair, and Chrissy’s swollen plump lips. 

Your best friend and your boyfriend. 

Your eyes blinked rapidly, desperately wishing it was all a hallucination. The reality of the situation was slow to hit you, your vision blurred uncontrollably, throat tightening, and causing you to feel stuck, almost paralyzed. 

With a gulp, you were quick to take a step back, ignoring them calling your name as you turned back, forgetting all about the jacket you were supposed to get back when your legs felt so wobbly. You could hear the chatter outside the door get louder, everyone else taking a peak at what just happened. The whispers and gasps of everyone around you felt like mocking echoes.

You didn’t even know what to feel first. Anger? Jealousy? Sadness? Embarrassment?

It was a mix of all four and your chest hurts, tears welled up in your eyes, burning down your cheeks as your breaths came in shallow gasps, you couldn’t make any sense of it, and you couldn’t fucking understand it. 

You felt it, felt betrayal like a physical sensation, like there was a void in your chest. And you could sense that Billy was running after you, trying to catch up to you, but you resisted the temptation to slow down, your anger acting as a protective shield. 

“Baby, I swear nothing happened.” He exclaimed, desperation lacing his voice. Your eyes rolled instinctively, head tuning out the words that were too little, too late.

“Please, just listen to me she kissed me I didn’t! I tried to push her off—” You shouldn’t turn around, you definitely shouldn’t turn around and give him that satisfaction. 

But you do.

“For twenty minutes?!? You tried to push her off for twenty fucking minutes?” You yell back bitterly.

“It isn’t what you think, please just let me explain!” 

“Twenty fucking minutes, Billy!” You spat, pain quick to turn into anger. “Do you really think I’m that dumb?” Your fingers discarded your hair in anger, everything you knew to be true wasn’t anymore. 

You knew what you had with Billy was fucked up, it wasn’t a normal nor a healthy relationship, but it was familiar and you were used to it, used to him. A relationship with this many ups and downs became your version of normalcy, even though it shouldn’t have. 

No matter what happened, you thought he loved you, all those promises he whispered into your ear while you slept comfortably on his chest, all the times he murmured that he loved you, that he could never imagine being with anyone else, a whole fucking lie. 

And it hurt. 

Because you knew how hard it would be to walk away from this. You knew you couldn’t break away from him. You needed something to desperately pull you away. Show you that you deserved better than this.

No one would love you more than he did. He told you that a thousand times because it was true. He would do anything and everything for you. And you didn’t know why that enticed you, why being in such a fucked up situation hurt you in the best way possible, like an intoxicating yet destructive obsession.

And anyway, why would anyone even love you? You were a mess, a fuck up, nothing you did ever amounted to anything, and you knew that, you knew you were destined to be this way, to be with someone who constantly hurt you. Nothing you could do would be enough to get you out of the mess that was your mind.  

“I would never do that to you, never.” His eyes were glossy, mirroring yours, you could tell when he lied to you, and this wasn’t one of those times. And you hated that your gaze softened with that because you wanted to believe him. 

You knew he was flirty, you knew that the second you started dating Billy; from the countless times he flirted with the waitress when he took you to dinner, how he always got a little too close with the female lifeguards, how he charmed all the moms in Hawkins with a slight wink, it was a script you knew all too well. And you kept your mouth shut, tolerated it, only because he always brushed it off as nothing. 

You didn’t mind it because he loved you, he told you he did, and you believed him. The countless arguments, the accidental bruises, name-callings, punches in the wall, you forgave it all. Because he loved you, he told you that love made him this way, it made him this insane and angry. And you let him make you believe that his erratic behavior was love, until today. 

Because this was different, this was Chrissy. Your supposed best friend. Yes, Billy probably didn’t start making out with her, but he surely wasn’t eager to finish it either. 

The betrayal cut deeper than any argument or bruise; it was a wound inflicted by the two people you believed loved you unconditionally.

You let out a sarcastic chuckle, arms crossing against your chest as you could feel your face burn up with anger, tears drying out. “You are something else,” you uttered, disappointment and resentment flavoring your words.

“I don’t want to ever see you again, Billy, and I fucking mean it.” 

“Calm down,” he whispered, a feeble attempt to pacify you. 

“No! I am not going to fucking ‘calm down’. You—you fucking cheated on me w-with Chrissy!” Your voice wavered, and you hated it, your anger wasn’t powerful enough to wash away the pain you felt, and tears were stinging your eyes again. 

“Jesus how many times do I have to tell you she fucking kissed me! I-I didn’t fuckin’ cheat!” He defended but you shook your head.  “And, anyway, didn’t you fucking kiss that freak?” 

A lump formed in your throat, a bitter taste accompanying the memory. Yes, you did. But it was after one of your infamous breaks with Billy, the two of you were broken up. Eddie and you promised each other that it was nothing, that it would just complicate things between the two of you. And you knew, if Billy ever found out about it, he would not leave it alone, he wouldn’t let you hang out with him. He would mess with him till no end. And you didn’t want Eddie involved in it. Ever.

“I told you we didn’t!” You lied through your teeth, it didn’t matter now. What you did could never compare to what he fucking did. Ever. But you were starting to realize that maybe, just maybe, Chrissy spreading that rumor was not an accident, at all. 

Anger simmered, building like a storm inside you. “Don’t try to shift the blame on me, you fucking kissed her!” 

“I didn’t—”

“Did you not fucking kiss her back you asshole?” You interrupted, the surge of anger propelling you forward. Your hands found his shoulders, pushing him roughly.  Billy stammered, opening his mouth to speak. “I-I only for like a minute, then I fuckin’ pulled away, I swear!” He defended himself, making you huff angrily.

“It’s over, Billy.” You muttered, gaze meeting his. 

“I mean it.” You added, his sympathetic gaze was quick to turn cold, and it made you feel uneasy, how comfortable he was going from gentle to rough so quickly. 

His lips twisted into a cynical skepticism, “for how long this time? Eight hours? Two fucking days? A week?” There was that lump in your throat again. Billy didn’t believe that you could leave him, and you felt that tight, unexplainable feeling sink into your chest, he thought you’d stay with him no matter what, like a fucking object that he could do whatever he wants to. It’s sickeningly insulting, your hand raises to slap him, but he’s faster. 

“I don’t think so, sweetheart.” His harsh grip on your wrist hurts, but what hurts more is the fresh bruise he left on your forearm two days ago, another fight that got too grabby. 

“L-let me go,” you embarrassingly begged, wincing at his relentless grip. Your face scrunched with pain, eyes squeezing shut. The tenderness of the bruise made the slightest touch unbearable.

His hand twisted your wrist further, harsh hold squeezing more tears out of you than you realized. “B-billy,” you begged, again. Only then, Billy noticed your discomfort, swallowing hard before reluctantly releasing your arm. An emptiness replaced his hold, and your vision blurred as you tried to reassure yourself, fingertips gently tracing the purplish bruise.

“D-does forever work?” It comes out as a whisper, words tangling to each other when you recollect yourself from him, still trying to find the broken pieces he scattered, leaving without another word. 

And he didn’t bother to run after you, watching your figure leave while guilt set in, the sight of that purple blotch on your arm, how you flinched at any contact, the way you closed up during arguments, it was all because of him. All because he couldn’t fucking help himself; his anger or his need for control. 

He doesn’t escape the cycle. 

A sigh of relief escaped your lips as you walked away, tears streaming down your face. Your hands shook as you wiped them away, the weight of everything breaking free in a flood of sobs.

You immediately make your way to the drink stand, praying to whatever god there is that no one else can perceive you for the rest of the night so that you can drown in your sorrows and drink all of it away. 

You barely registered Chrissy approaching you between sobs and the harsh scoop of the 'pure fire,' as Steve called it, into the red cup clutched in your fists. “Can I talk to you?” Her voice, when it finally reached your ears, felt mocking, and carried a giddy undertone that enraged you more and more. 

“No,” you scoffed, refusing to entertain the idea, turning your attention back to the sorrowful task of filling your cup.

“Come on, take a chill pill,” she attempted to joke, her usual signature line falling flat. Your glare, sharp as the knives you felt in your back, met her with anger. She huffed a sigh of breath. 

“Please I’m sorry, just let me talk—”

“What the fuck do you want to talk about, huh?” You set the cup down harshly, the impact of it had the drink sloshing all over the surface, “the fact that you tried to kiss my boyfriend?” you interrupted with a spiteful look.

Her wavering sympathy dissipated at your accusation, eyes turning cold as she furrowed her brows. “What?” she hissed. “Tried? Is that what he told you?” She scoffed.

Your face scrunched. “I wouldn’t put it past you.” You spat back, you didn’t care if your words hurt her in the slightest, your thoughts were purely consumed by her betrayal. 

 “Excuse me?” Chrissy’s eyes narrowed.

“Jesus, Pinky are you really that fucking gullible?” She asked tilting her head almost mockingly. 

“Or do you really think that highly of yourself?” Your mouth struggled to open, heart dropped to your stomach when you realized she didn’t even care.

“We were in that bathroom for twenty minutes, use your imagination.” That goddamn smirk curved on her lips, and you knew you have never felt this amount of pain before, it was insulting, to ever think you called her your friend. 

“Oh, you are such a fucking-” You could feel your blood boiling, almost ready to attack her, your drunken haze giving you enough courage. 

But her annoying tone interrupted you, “Did you really think you were perfect? That you were enough for Billy?” 

“What did you think? That he would want a fucking charity case like you?” The tears pooled your eyes again, but you weren’t going to let her see it, so you held them in, clenching your fists as your breath caught in your throat. All of her insults became a deafening background noise to your ears. “Newsflash, Pinky you have junkies for parents. You’re too messed up. Even for Billy.” 

The heat rushed to your cheeks at the last insult, earning a visceral reaction because of how cruel she was. Disgust and anger overtook your senses quicker than you intended them to, you felt small, and so fucking stupid. 

Regret gnawed at you – You should’ve never let her in. You should’ve never let her comfort you. You should’ve never told her anything. It was all your fucking fault. For trusting anyone that came in your way. 

Just because you wanted to feel loved, just because you wanted to fill that void that your parents left. And it was so ironic, considering they couldn’t give two shits about you, yet your deepest wound would always be them. 

“You’re so fucking pathetic, Chrissy.” You spat, masking all of your emotions. You had mastered it at this point. You didn’t care what she said about you, she could keep her mouth running, because she was dead to you. Maybe you could’ve forgiven her for the whole Billy thing because fuck him too, he was no saint, right? 

But making fun of your parents was one line she couldn’t cross. 

“You’re more fit for that trailer trash freak.” Scratch that. Making fun of Eddie was one line she couldn’t fucking cross. Eddie. She couldn’t breathe near him if she wanted to, she didn’t deserve it. 

Your teeth grounded together, and fury fueled your rise to your feet. “Don’t ever call him that again.” The words slipped between gritted teeth, the realization of how close you had walked to her only dawned as you unintentionally cornered her.

She looked taken aback, brows pinched together. “What are you gonna do? Go all trailer trash on me too?” She chuckled, annoyingly loud.

You shouldn’t. You fucking shouldn’t. 

But she also shouldn’t have insulted Eddie. 

You are ready to lunge at her, feet planted closer as your hands are formed as fists at your side, and just as you’re about to take another step, a harsh arm yanked you away. Seconds away from getting that satisfaction, and just like that, you’re ripped away from it.

“What the—” You turned swiftly to see the culprit, as you harshly shook off the hold on you, your bruises still hurt, causing loud whines to part from your lips. Steve. Chrissy was back in your face, mocking laughter dancing in her eyes. “God, you’re predictable.” The laughter stung, and the pressure of your anger almost built up in your jaw. “Fuck you, you stupid—” You try again. No luck. Of course, Steve, with an unyielding grip, dragged you away.

Chrissy walked past, reveling in the scorned look etched on your face. She paused, turning with a smirk. “Oh, and next time you get a ‘freak accident’, make sure you don’t forget your jacket.” She pointed toward the fresh bruise on your forearm, courtesy to Billy who grabbed you a little too hard during another heated argument. Then she threw the jacket right next to you, on the floor landing with a mocking thud as she left with an irritating cackle. 

Impressively, Steve picked it up while maintaining his hold on you. “Let me go!” Your almost-scream echoed, his hands were unintentionally grazing the tender bruise, and it fucking hurt.

Only when he knew Chrissy was out of sight did he release his grip, and you shook him off with an exasperated huff. “What the fuck?!?” You questioned, gaze burning with fury. “Right back at you, what the fuck was that, Pinky?” He asked, tone more concerned than angry.  “Nothing,” you muttered. It was such an obvious lie that Steve rolled his eyes. “That won’t work with me.”

In a defiant move, you grabbed the drink, aiming to drown the tension, but Steve intercepted, harshly putting it back down. A glare shot his way. “Will you leave me alone?” “No.” He protested with a pinch of his brows. “So, tell me.”  “Steve,” you whined. You didn’t want to be interrogated by him, you knew he cared. But you just couldn’t handle it.  “I’m serious, you do realize this is my house, right?” His tone carried a veiled threat and you rolled your eyes at him. “I could kick you out any time I wanted to.” Your gaze narrowed, disbelief etched across your face. "You wouldn’t do shit." With a raise of his brows, Steve swiftly picked you up, slinging you over his shoulders. It all happened so fast that you weren’t quick to start softly punching his back and screaming.  God, he really was good at distracting you, so good that his little act almost coaxed a reluctant smile from your lips.  “Put me down!” You yelled behind him, your fists landed on his back with a not-so-impactful force. 

“Are you gonna tell me?” Steve asked, relishing the way you continued to thrash over his shoulder. Your face grew hotter every second, and with an annoyed huff, you finally nodded. “Yes, Jesus Christ!”

He gently lowered you to the ground, and a teasing glint danced in Steve's eyes as he quipped, "Atta girl." You responded with a scoff and a mock annoyed chuckle.

“So?” He questioned, arms crossing against his chest, his demeanor shifted,  the playful atmosphere dissipating as his expression turned serious.  “I caught Chrissy and Billy in the bathroom.”  “What?” Genuine shock washed over Steve's features, his eyes widening in disbelief. “Yeah I—” “And she still had the nerve to say all those fucking things?” Embarrassment surged, fluttering your cheeks hot. “You, uh, you heard those?” Steve responded with a quick nod.

“Don’t be embarrassed, Pinky, not with me.” He reassured you, his hand finding a comforting place on your waist, “she's the one who should be fuckin’ embarrassed. Jesus.”

“Thought she was supposed to be your friend,” Steve said, his gaze softening with empathy.

“Me too.” A sad chuckle escaped your lips.

His gaze lingered on the gnarly bruises decorating your arm, a visible wince reflecting in his expression. "And what about those?" he gulped, concern etching lines on his face.

You were quick to dismiss it with a wave, too quickly that of fucking course Steve knew something was wrong, you didn’t even dare to look at the bruises, or him in the eyes. 

“Bike accident,” you muttered, lying through your teeth.

"Since when do you have a bike?" Steve questioned and gauged your reaction, he knew you were lying, you were avoiding his gaze, and you looked visibly nervous, but he didn’t want to push this. It was too personal, and this wasn’t the place for it.  So, he understood, of course, he did. He or Nancy should’ve been the one you confided in. But you didn’t want to burden them with your problems.

“If—” Steve took a deep breath, choosing his words carefully. “If you ever need to talk about anything—and I mean anything—you can always talk to me. Hell, us! You can always talk to us, you know that, right?” His hand was quick to caress your back, gently, letting you know that he would always be there.

You nodded, but you wanted this pity party to be over, you wanted—needed Eddie. Just one hug from him. And maybe a joint.

“I-I know, thank you.” You hesitantly replied, stumbling over your words.

“You need anything?” He asked sincerely.

You shook your head softly. “No… but have you seen Eddie?” 

“He was selling to some idiots on the porch, might still be there.” He shrugged.

You were quick to nod, you had to leave, immediately. You didn’t want to worry Steve. “Thanks, Stevie, see you around?” You hummed, managing a smile that he mirrored.

And with that you were quick to grab your drink, downing it with a hiss before you almost ran to the porch, you didn’t want to see Billy or Chrissy again. You needed to find Eddie. And god, was it hot, you didn’t know if it was because of everything that transpired in the last twenty minutes, or it was because of the alcohol flowing in your system but you were burning up. And you didn’t want to wear your jacket. You should have.

A harsh breeze of air hit you once you finally stepped on the porch, fresh yet biting, serving as a slap of reality that had your eyes watering, you didn’t know why, you didn’t know how, but the tears came immediately.  It was pathetic, really. You with the bruises, half-drunk, discovering your friend with your boyfriend, breaking up with your boyfriend, and then earning insults from the said friend who was hooking up with your boyfriend.  A rollercoaster of a fucking night, but it was just getting started.  Slouching on the porch stairs, your head hung low to your knees as you covered your face with shame, almost. Mind reeling in the worst way possible. 

The insults stuck to it, Chrissy’s plump lips, Billy’s disheveled hair. His harsh grip on your arm. The way he mocked you. The insults Chrissy uttered. It was all a fucking mess. And you couldn’t handle any more of it. 

All the emotions you pent up over the years wanted to flow through your eyes, ruining you, completely breaking you apart. 

The red cup in your hand was crumpled roughly, each attempt to stifle your cries only intensified the shaking of the cup, spilling over to the stairs. 

Where was he? 

Where was Eddie? 

Your mind was spinning and the only thing you could think of was him. 

“Pinky?” The soft tone of his voice sliced through the tumult in your mind, and your head snapped up, eyes immediately watered at the sight.

There he stood, a boyish grin adorning his face, shaggy bangs falling over his amber eyes, a stupid leather jacket, and those stupid black jeans with chains attached to the hip. Him.

“Finally! Been lookin’ everywhere for you, sweetheart,” His voice wrapped around you like a reassuring embrace, but your foggy mind took a while for everything to register. When it did, you shot up, the world spinning dizzily, as you threw yourself into his arms. Sobs escaped freely, muffled against his jacket. 

His voice immediately softened, gentle hands running through your hair as he cooed. “Hey.. hey… what happened?” His tone so sweetly sick that you couldn’t help but melt into him, letting his warmth take over. 

Your breath caught up in your throat, and Eddie gently pulled away from the hug. Soft hands cupped your tear-streaked cheeks, grounding you with a simple touch. You gave into him, succumbing to his tenderness. 

This was what you needed. And it was almost as clear as day. It should’ve always been him. 

"I-I-" Your words stumbled over your sobs, the weight on your chest making it hard to breathe. Eddie's concerned eyes met yours, wiping away the tears on your cheek gently. 

“Honey, hey, hey…” He caught your attention, his soothing voice breaking through the haze. His brows furrowed with worry, and you blinked open your eyes, focusing on him. "Breathe, can you do that for me, sweetheart?" Like a lifeline, his words pulled you back from the edge. Concern etched on his face, apparent from his brows creasing.

What the fuck happened? And who fucking did this to you?

Eddie had a good idea who did it: Billy. The very thought of that name sent a surge of anger through his veins. Hadn't this asshole put you through enough already? What could he have fucking done now?

You drew in a shuddering breath, and Eddie, recognizing your struggle, encouraged you while soothingly caressing your hair, calming you down further and further.

"Deep breaths, just like that. Breathe for me," he coaxed, and you obediently followed, shallow breaths gradually returning to normal as you focused on him.

His touch was gentle, hands still caressing your cheeks as he asked with genuine concern, "Are you doing okay now?" He asked, gaze mellow and lips overturned with worry

You nodded, but it wasn't convincing enough for him. As your hiccups persisted, you finally managed to articulate through the tears, "Chrissy."

Eddie's heart tightened, a quizzical look on his face. Chrissy? What did she have to do with this?

"Billy hooked up with Chrissy," you revealed, it was the most clear you had spoken to him and he still had a hard time understanding it.  

His brows pinched together both in anger and confusion, his hold on you faltering once he registered your words.

So, Billy cheated on you? 

Oh, now he was going to kill that bastard. Once he made sure you were okay, he was going to beat the shit out of him. 

"What?" he exclaimed a little too loudly, his hold on you momentarily faltering in sheer shock.

"They—what?" he stammered.

"I caught them in the bathroom, Eddie, I—" Your tears blurred your vision again, and in frustration, you ran your hand through your hair. 

That's when Eddie's eyes widened, and he pointed to something, asking, "What's that?"

You froze, desperately attempting to dismiss it, but Eddie wasn't having it. His hands gently flew to your forearm, and you flinched just in time, hastily trying to put on the jacket you should've already been wearing. Stupid, stupid, stupid. 

Now he was going to ask so many questions, and you knew he wouldn’t let go like Steve did, and he would know if you lied, in a heartbeat. 

He huffed quickly, ignoring your protests as he softly held onto your arm, just around the bruise, being careful not to cause any more pain. Your lip trembled in the process. Shit, shit, shit. 

“Pinky…” he murmured, worry creasing his brows at the royal purple mark.

If Eddie knew, there was no turning back, there was no way he wouldn’t make a big deal out of it. A part of you was happy about it—maybe he could pull you away, maybe everything would be okay. 

But the other part of you was terrified. Because you know he wouldn’t think of your bruises as nothing like you did and like Billy kept assuring you, he wouldn’t just let this go like you would. He would stand up for you, and while you were grateful, you were equally scared. 

“N-nothing,” you muttered, avoiding his intense gaze. 

“That’s not nothing,” his hand extended, slowly but surely making you reveal the full extent of the huge, gnarly bruise on your arm, with another one freshly forming from the hold Billy had on you earlier. Fuck.

“Holy shit,” he muttered, trying to avoid the genuine gasp waiting to escape his lips, “What happened?” His gaze found yours. 

“Bike accident,” you lied through your teeth, a stupid fucking lie. He would never buy it.

“You don’t have a bike.” He heaved a sigh of breath, the thought of these bruises forming because of Billy didn’t even form his mind, sure he was awful and an asshole, but Eddie never thought he would be that awful. 

“I used Mike’s.” Another lie. 

“Did something bad happen?”

“No!”

“Pinky,” he said it so seriously that you felt bad.  “Tell me, please.” His tone was awfully worrying. 

How the fuck were you going to tell him?

“We were arguing—”

“What?” He quickly snapped back, not at you, but at what you were implying. He could almost feel the color draining from his cheeks. You surely didn’t mean…

“It-it was nothing!” You defended with a dismissive wave, but it didn’t stop his eyes widening. “We just- we were just arguing, and-and then he tried to hold me but i-it was just a little tight!” 

“H-he did this to you?” Eddie’s jaw clenched in an instant, and he tried his best not to react, trying not to show you how he could feel his blood practically boiling, you’d been through enough, you didn’t need to deal with calming him down now, too. 

“No, no, it was just a little accident. It doesn’t matter!” 

“Yes, it fucking does!”

“No, it doesn’t!” Frustrated, you spat back, a bit of your pent-up anger lashing out at Eddie.

“I’m going to kill that asshole,” He scowled, rising to his feet, eyes spitting fire and you were quick to have a strong hold on his arm. “N-no! Please.” You whispered, the desperation in your voice slicing through the tension. Your touch brings him back to the present, reminding him that you matter more than his impulsive reactions.

Eddie stopped with a sigh of breath, gaze returning to you, and you nervously licked your lips fingers combing through your hair to gather your thoughts. “Look, Eddie, I-I just needed to see you, I just needed to feel normal for a moment, please, not now.” Your gaze was sympathetic, you looked so hurt that Eddie’s brows scrunched in pain.

He opened his mouth, about to speak, about to tell you that he could protect you, but your brows furrowed, and that teary-eyed look returned on your face. “Please,” Desperate, tugging on his arm, and he had no choice but to nod. He could deal with this later. 

“O-okay,” he muttered, meekly, swallowing the lump in his throat. His stomach churned in pain and anger when he realized that bastard actually fucking hurt you. And you really thought it was all okay…

“What do you need, honey?” Sickeningly sweet tone was back again, and it warmed you up, removing the coldness that sat on your chest. 

“A hug…” You muttered, “and maybe a joint.” 

That brought an unintentional grin to both of your faces. “C’mere.” He whispered, arms quick to wrap around you, holding you close. The subtle sway of his body rocked you in the promise that you were not alone, his gaze filled with concern and you couldn’t help but melt into him when he pressed a kiss onto your hair. 

Too engulfed, too distracted to realize someone almost sprinting toward the two of you. Before you could process the approaching figure, a voice cut through the air, sharp and accusatory. “You didn’t kiss him? Bullshit!”

Confusion etched across your face as Eddie's protective arms tightened around you. “What the hell are you—” 

Billy, possibly fueled by alcohol, swaggered toward you both with an air of aggression.  “Stay the fuck away from my girlfriend.”

The scent of alcohol wafted from Billy, and Eddie’s unbridled rage was now on the surface, he wore a scowl, eyes daggering through Billy. His hand protectively remained on your hips, gently pulling you aside. You tried to look at him, silently pleaded that you didn’t want this, that you didn’t need him to do this. But it was no fucking use. 

“She’s not your fucking girlfriend, dipshit.” 

“Stay the fuck out of this, freak.” He ignored Eddie, rage now full on display as he fully turned toward you.

“What, you gonna deny it, or no?” Caught in a crossfire, you felt a surge of panic, and just as you were about to speak, Eddie did it for you. 

“No, she’s not gonna fuckin’ deny it.” Your eyes widened, blinking rapidly to process what Eddie just confessed to.

“Eddie—” You tried but again, no use, Eddie took a step closer to him.

“We did kiss.” A smirk played on his lips, he was doing it on purpose, he wanted to get Billy to punch him. 

“I fucking kissed her, asshole.” Shit, you internally cursed at him.

The tension thickened, you could see it in the ticking jaw and bulging vein on Billy's neck. He moved forward, poised to strike at Eddie. “You have the nerve you fuckin’ freak!” He stepped forward, attempting to get at him. 

You acted quick, acting as a shield to Eddie, you didn’t care, you couldn’t let him get hurt because of you. You couldn’t handle that. 

“Billy, don’t!” Your desperate plea was drowned out by the pounding music and the escalating chaos. Despite your efforts, Billy's aggression only intensified. A forceful push sent you sprawling to the unforgiving ground. Tiny rocks bit into your palms, and your knees scraped against the abrasive cement.

The impact on the ground sent a shockwave of pain through your body, a groan escaping your lips at the pain. Your world spun harder, you didn’t even know what to focus on first; the throbbing bruise on your cheek, Billy's kiss with Chrissy, the haze of your drunkenness, or the startling fact that Billy had pushed you to the ground. All of it made you dizzy.

You could barely blink when Eddie knocked Billy out cold, with three well-aimed punches, lunging at him the moment he laid hands on you, your gaze narrowed to make sure you saw it correctly. 

Eddie was fine. Eddie was okay. 

“Sweetheart, oh my god.” Eddie's voice cut through the haze, his worried tone a soothing balm. With a gentle scoop, he lifted you to your feet. 

You didn’t want to be there when Billy woke up, some drunk idiot could help him. Or Chrissy would, for all you cared. And as if Eddie understood you, he quickly helped you move away from the scene, guiding you towards the row of parked cars, away from everything.

Once you were at a safer distance, Eddie tried to hold you, face etched in concern, as he ventured to ask, “You doing okay?”

The scowl you wore was anything but, “Why did you do that?!?” The words spat from your lips surprised him.

“Excuse me?” Eddie responded, his brow furrowing in confusion.

“Yo-you shouldn’t have told him!” Worry was etched all over your face, Eddie didn’t realize the consequences of what he did would have, but you did, oh, you did. 

“D-do you realize what you just fucking did?” You wanted to cry, or you were already crying, you couldn’t tell when your cheeks were wet already. 

“I—”

You interrupted him. “I-I don’t need this, I don’t need you to protect me.”

“I didn’t mean to make you upset—”

“I’m not upset!” Your scowl deepened, face flushed with frustration. 

He tried to reach closer, tried to help you but you refused. “Don’t- just don’t!” 

“I-I don’t need to be saved or protected, okay?” Your lips wobbled, “just l-leave me alone, Eddie.” 

“What?” His face fell, lips downturned, as he struggled to comprehend your sudden detachment.

“Leave me alone, I-I can take care of myself!” You begged, but that anger sank on your chest, it made you bitter, made you want to close up entirely.

“How the fuck am I supposed to do that?” He spat, hands ruffling through his hair in anger. He took a step closer to you, stomach churning with the need to hold you.

“Pinky don’t you fucking see it? I care about you, you’re the only thing I care about in this goddamn world! How the fuck do you expect me to leave when you’re hurt?” His voice cracked, and your gaze softened with it.

“How do you expect me to not beat the shit out of that fucking asshole for doing that to you?” The raw emotion in his voice was enough to pierce through your defenses, making your heartache.

“I get it, I get that you’re tough, but shit—”

“I can’t just sit and watch you get hurt… I can’t.” The truth in his words hung heavy in the air, it was almost like a shift between the two of you, like the barrier finally dissipating, so that the true feelings would prevail. 

Yet, despite that you pushed back, your own stubbornness overtaking you. “But I want you to leave me alone!” 

You knew your words were nothing but a lie, you needed someone, him specifically. Sure, you had always been tough, but this? This was too much. And you knew he was the only one who could make you feel better, yet like an idiot, you pushed him away. That’s all you were good at, wasn’t it?

Your tears came back when you saw his face, defeated, all because of you. He didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve you. He deserved better, he shouldn’t be roped up in this mess. You had to push him away, you fucking had to. 

He didn’t do anything but look at you. Really, really looked at you. 

And you looked a mess, hair disheveled, mascara running down your cheeks, bruises on your arm, knees scrapped, lip wobbling, and you could barely stand. The worst possible condition he saw you in. 

He knew what you were doing, you were pushing him away because you were afraid. A move, he always pulled, a move he was good at until he met you. He understood you, possibly in a way no one ever could. 

Eddie, undeterred, stepped closer to you with a calm determination. Your head snapped up at the movement, eyebrows furrowed in confusion and frustration. 

“No.” He muttered. 

“What?” 

“I’m not gonna leave.”

“But—”

“No but’s, wear your jacket, I’m taking you home.” His tone was clear, not harsh, not soft either. Just letting you know that he was here, he was always going to be here and he was not leaving, even if you tried so hard to make him. 

“I-I don’t think I wanna go home.” You muttered.

“My place?” You nod softly. 

You don’t know why it caused you to break down again, but it did, tears were your friend and they were overspilling faster than you intended them to. His arms opened up instinctively and you didn’t hesitate to let him engulf you. 

“I’m sorry,” you murmured between sobs, the words catching in your throat. “‘M sorry, didn’t mean it, ‘m so sorry, sorry, so—” Hiccups interrupted your apologies, but Eddie hushed you gently, his presence making you feel at ease.

“I know, I know…” he cooed, hand ghosting over your back, the hold he had on you tight enough to let you know that you were safe. “It’s okay, honey.” He reassured. The sweet name had your heart beat faster once you looked up at him. 

“I-I didn’t mean it.” You stammered all teary-eyed, and Eddie couldn’t help the way his chest tightened, you didn’t deserve this, you didn’t deserve to cry. He was going to make sure you were okay.

“Hey, hey, I know.” He cooed softly, gently caressing your face.

“P-please, don’t leave.” Your tone framed the words so gut-wrenchingly painful that Eddie ached, his heart broke a million times, over and over, pieces to pieces. 

“Never.” 

“I’d never leave you.” 

NOW STEVE'S BRUNCH.

With the missing pieces of the puzzle finally being revealed to Eddie, that memory was what he replayed in his head, over and over, until he finally couldn’t handle the way Steve reassured you, hand on your waist as he told you idiotic jokes. 

He couldn’t shake off it, he shouldn’t just leave it like this. He should fight for you, he should do something. His hand was quick to fish out the notebook, his eyes scanned through it to find the perfect note, maybe, this would help you realize that he had always been there for you. A feeble attempt, but he didn’t have any other choice, you didn’t want to talk to him, so he just slipped the note to Jonathan and left. 

You watched him leave, a scowl on your face, heart aching when he didn’t even utter a goodbye to you. It was hypocritical, considering that you had asked him not to acknowledge you, but you couldn’t help it. You couldn’t help yourself when it came to him.

Hours had passed since that moment and you had apologized to Jonathan and Nancy a hundred times by now, but they shrugged it off without a care. God, you really didn’t deserve them, did you? 

And everything was going finally back to normal. Sipping the cocktails and munching on the amazing pancakes Steve had made everyone, and dabbling your feet in the water as laughter was all that surrounded the group. 

This was what it should’ve been, all of you, and Eddie. If he hadn’t brought her. 

But of course, all the bliss disappeared once Steve decided to bring it up again. 

“So… how do you feel?” You threw him a glare, splashing some of the chlorine-filled water directly at his hair. 

“Jesus, not the fucking hair!” He groaned, ruffling it with his daggering glare thrown at you. “Now you have to tell me!” He insisted, shoulder nudging yours. 

“I don’t really wanna talk about it,” you muttered, facing away from him as you felt everyone eyeing you. 

“Maybe, we should.” Jonathan chimed in, making you furrow your brows. 

“What does that mean?” Steve replied before you did. 

With a sigh, Jonathan extended a rustled paper, and you immediately recognized what it was, “He said he wanted me to give this to you.” 

“A note? So brave of him,” Steve mocked with a roll of his eyes, groaning when Nancy elbowed him. 

Robin hid her giggle with her hand, and Nancy threw her an icy glare, shutting both of them up. 

Your brows furrowed in disbelief, lips kissing your teeth as you snatched it out of his hand. “Oh, he did?” You didn’t mean to sound sarcastic, but it was pissing you off at this point. 

He didn’t utter a single word to you. And now he didn’t even have the decency to give you this? 

Steve was right. 

Why was he being a fucking coward? 

You were quick to get up from the side of the pool, plopping onto the nearest chair to read the contents. 

You could feel their eyes on you but they were quick to hide it, going back to their chatter. 

“When she gave me this, I never thought I’d actually end up writing in it for anything other than lyrics. Some ideas. But ever since we kissed, I can’t stop or control my thoughts, it’s been nonstop flowing and this is the only way I can express it. The only thing to make me feel sane, to make it seem like it really was real. My mouth hasn’t shut up about her since she kissed it, my thoughts haven’t been okay ever since I saw the curl of her lips right after she kissed me. I know how hard it is for her, I know how much she struggles with that dipshit who doesn't deserve her. But it doesn’t matter, now. I’ll wait. I’ll wait forever if she asks me to. I’ll do anything if she asks me to.”  

You turned the note over, nothing else was written, with your brows pinched together angrily, you smushed it into your pocket, ignoring the protests of everyone while you jumped into your car in a hurry. 

What the fuck was he thinking giving you this? 

What the fuck was his problem? 

If he wanted you, why couldn’t he just tell you? 

And if so, why did he even bring Chrissy? 

It wasn’t long till you made it to Eddie’s trailer, and with your harsh knocks, it wasn’t long till Eddie opened it. 

“Jesus Christ—” His words fell in the air at the sight of you, eyes widening. 

“What the fuck is your problem?” You yelled, lines on your forehead deepening into a frown as you held up the note in his face. 

“You didn’t utter a single word to me, and you’re just giving this note to Jonathan?” He stammered, mouth unable to find the words to speak, not really expecting you to confront him like this. 

“Why don’t you just say it to my fucking face?”

“I would, if you weren’t so busy.”

Your brows pinched together, “excuse me?” 

“Is this some kind of a joke?” He asked.

“Y-you tell me not to speak with you! You tell me that we shouldn’t ever see each other again, then you leave with Steve and somehow I’m the problem?” He said, exasperated.

Was he… jealous? Of Steve?

“No, the problem is you being a coward!” You raised your voice, hand pressing the note to his chest dramatically. 

“You think I’m a coward? I’m the furthest fucking thing from it, and you know that.”

“You think a coward would put everything aside for you? You think a coward would run away with you?” 

“O-okay, okay!” You want him to stop speaking, because you know he’s right, he wasn’t a coward, at least when it came to that. But he was a coward when it came to his feelings, and maybe it wouldn’t have pissed you off this much if you weren’t one too. 

The two of you were dancing around what you actually needed to talk about, feelings, and it was getting ridiculous at this point, because neither of you could pull away, no matter how many times you said you would. He pulled you in, and you pulled him in. 

“I fucked up, I did. But don’t ever act like I’m the one who ran away when things got too hard, okay?” He leaned further on the door frame, face inches away from yours, it made your breath hitch, heart thumping inside of your ribcage. 

Your words meshed together when your gaze stooped on his lips. He was close, so close, and he occupied your mind. “H-How did we even go back to this? It’s like we’re moving around in a stupid fucking circle and—” You took a deep breath to gather your thoughts. 

“I told you I didn’t want to do this back and forth with you and here we are again!” It was frustrating, everything with him was frustrating, but you couldn’t stay away from him, how could you?

Those five years had been hell. 

“Are you kidding?” His words were dripping with irritation, “You came to my door! Started screaming in my face and waving notes!”

“I only did it because you were too much of a fucking coward to give me the note!” Now it was fully getting ridiculous, arguments turning into a bickering old couple. 

“I told you I’m not a coward—” He defended.

You interrupted with, “Fine, fine! You are not a coward whatever!” 

“What you are is fucking infuriating!” You spat, taking a step closer to him. 

“Infuriating? You started this!” He fueled it, mirroring your steps, one more step from either of you, and his lips would be pressed onto yours. 

“Oh, so I kissed Chrissy?” You scoffed, arms crossed against your chest.

“Jesus, that’s not what I meant!” He almost groaned, frustrated. 

“You want me to prove it to you? You want me to tell you how much I messed up? I’ll fucking do it.” 

There was that tension between the two of you again, it wasn’t filled with hatred in the slightest, but there was so much unresolved shit that it might as well suffocate you if Eddie stepped any closer, it ached, making a way to your heart. 

Three hours ago you wanted him out of your life, for good. Now, all you wanted to do was see him prove himself to you, it was stupid, psychotic, and maybe a little selfish. But you couldn’t help yourself when it’s him. 

“You will?” You stammered, you didn’t fully know what that meant, but it was somehow making your heart jump knowing that maybe the notes still meant something. Maybe, just maybe he wanted you, still. Your forehead relaxed, and lips itched to curl into a smile. 

And of fucking course, Eddie caught it. “Yes.” He said, all smugly, making you want to roll your eyes. 

“G-good, uh, until then, I-I mean it, I don’t want to see you.” You shifted uncomfortably in your place, fully realizing how close he was to you, and it somehow brought confidence to Eddie.

He tssked, “Then you probably shouldn’t come to my door, then.” His nose scrunched sarcastically, eliciting an eye roll from you. 

“Munson.” You warned. 

“Pinky?”

“You really are infuriating.”

“Am I?” He tilted his head all adorably. 

“Yes.”

“See you tonight, sweetheart.” He winked. 

And you groaned with that, flipping him off while you hurried back to your car. 

He closed the door with an amused smile, his nose scrunching as he replayed the conversation in his head. 

“So you two good now?” Wayne’s grouchy tone almost had Eddie jump in place.

“Jesus Christ, Wayne! Were you just eavesdropping on our conversation?”

“What? You said y’all had the worst fight of your lives, that don’t seem like it to me.” He shrugged.

“We did— but uh, I don’t know, I just don’t know what the actual fuck is going with us, I thought I was dead to her but then she just barges in—”

“She cares about you, Eddie.” Wayne sighed. 

“I know that girl like the palm of my hand, if you were dead to her, she wouldn’t even acknowledge you, just her bein’ a big fireball shows she still cares.” 

Eddie sighed, “But she said—” 

“Hell to what she said! Both of y’all are idiots when it comes to this, you go prove to her that you’re sorry, tell her how you feel and then you can thank me.” He exclaimed.

“But—”

“Boy, do what I told you, apologize to that sweet girl, and make sure you do it until she forgives you.” Eddie threw a look at Wayne. 

And Wayne dismissed it with his finger pointing at him, “I mean it, Eddie, after all the shit you told me about what that little blondie did to my Pinky, you should be on your knees beggin’!” 

“Okay, okay!” Eddie admitted the defeat.

“Jesus, old man, it wouldn’t hurt for you to just take your nephew’s side once in a while, would it?” He mocked dramatically. 

He threw a daggering look at Eddie, “Fine, fine, I’ll apologize.” Wayne narrowed his gaze. “A proper apology.” Eddie muttered, almost embarrased. “And?” Wayne raised his brows. Eddie groaned loudly, “and I’ll tell her how I feel.”

✦ final authors note — okay i promise the next two chapters are going to be less angst-filled (like gonna be worth the wait i promiseee) 🤭 and yes the note was inspired by alex turner's letter to alexa chung okay!! reading that at like 13 altered my brain chemistry a LOT. anyway like i said pls leave some feedback i swear it motivates me a LOTTT. thank u for reading ilyy💗

[zoeykallus]

Me again! Here’s one that popped into my head randomly. What if the gender-neutral reader is “hunted” (or playfully tracked) by each BB clone? Like the reader took one of their blasters and is chased to get it back? Oooh and the reader takes Crosshair’s rifle!

Yeah, you, again, know that face by now 😁Hi! Uhm, well, let me give it a try...

TBB x Gender-neutral Reader (Extended) HCs – Lost Something? Part 1 Of 5 Hunter

Warnings: None (So far)

Ko-Fi (If you feel like giving me some coffee)

It starts with a simple assertion on your part. "I bet I can sneak up on you and steal something you're wearing on your body, like your blaster." Hunter raises his eyebrows. He laughs softly and says with amusement, "I think that's highly unlikely. My perception, as you already know, is much sharper than that of other people. You would never get close enough to me, at least not without me noticing" You smile unperturbed. You watch him, listen to him explain further. "Even if you could manage that, you can't hide from me, I'd be on your heels far too quickly. Stealing from me is much harder than you think" You nod slowly, kiss his cheek gently and say, "Okay, you're probably right. But the thought was interesting" Hunter laughs softly again. "Are you bored?" You grin at him and say, "No, I'm just naturally curious" Hunter kisses the corner of your mouth and strokes your cheek with one finger. "I see. Well, maybe we can discuss some more of your curious thoughts tonight. But now I have to go, I'm sure Echo is already waiting for me" You smile contentedly and say, "I'm looking forward to tonight"

You look after him until he disappears around the next corner to go to the meeting point at the market, where Echo is waiting for him. With a smile, you raise your right hand and look down at its contents. Hunter's blaster is in your hand. "Incredibly sharp senses," you say with a soft laugh.

Hunter walks alongside Echo through the market, looking for the stall of the merchant who sells them certain spare parts under the table, while he tells him about the conversation between you and him. Echo frowns a little, but he listens before saying, "And you told them, of course, that no one can steal anything from you that easily, hmm? Hunter laughs, a beaming smile on his face. He likes talking about you, any thought related to you is usually enjoyable. "Of course. I also told them they should know that" Echo nods slowly, completely calm, a barely noticeable smirk at the corners of his mouth. "Of course," he says, sounding almost subliminally sarcastic. Hunter shrugs and says, "We all know that no one can sneak up on me" "And where's your blaster then, genius? Have you forgotten it?" grumbles Echo, the smirk already a little more visible on his lips. Hunter glances hastily at the holster. Empty. "This can't be real," he says, stunned, almost a little breathless.

When your comm beeps, you know it's Hunter before you even look at the display. "Hi honey," you say sweetly. Hunter sounds dry as he says, "You tricked me" You laugh softly and say, "But that was the point. I proved my theory. I can very definitely steal from you" You feel it coming before it happens, but you don't have time to react. The next moment you're wedged between Hunter and a building wall. "I also said you can't hide from me," Hunter says with a smoky voice and a small smirk. Your heart is pounding in your throat, but not really from fear, it's a certain, energizing excitement. You concede, "Okay, yeah you said that and obviously you're right" Hunter reaches under your jacket, pulls out his blaster and puts it back in its holster. "I'm afraid you can't keep this, I still need it," he says, amused.

@rintheemolion

@andyoufollowyourheart @clone-whore-99

@brynhildrmimi @kaliel2310

@misogirl828 @tech-deck

@meshla-madalene

@chxpsi

@thebahdbitch

@nahoney22 @ladykatakuri

@darkangel4121

@ttzamara

@arctrooper69

@padawancat97

@agenteliix

@allsystemsblue

@palliateclaw

@either-madness-or-brilliance

@ortizshinkaroff

@andy-solo1

@hunterssecretrecipe

@heyitsaloy

@greaser-wolf

@extrahotpixels

@hated-by-me

@hunterxcrosshair

@malicemercy

@bebopsworld

@echos-girlfriend

@cpnt616

@dangraccoon

@jediknightjana

@pb-jellybeans

@antishadow2021

@sleepycreativewriter

@projectdreamwalker

@1vlouds

@clonelovr

[nolita-fairytale]

comfort & chaos | carmy berzatto x fem!reader | chapter four: 2/22/22

summary: carmy receives bad news that changes his life forever, while you're relationship with him comes to a head. (the five times carmen berzatto fell in love with you a little and the one time he finally told you)

warnings: explicit sexual content (18+ only), death, grief, mentions of suicide, no use of y/n, she/her pronouns, drinking & smoking, suggestive language

word count: 5.5k

listen to: hurting kind - del water gap | robbers - the 1975 | hostages - the howl & the hum

a/n: i need therapy after writing this. so sorry bbs love you all. ok but fr, i thought that i was going to write a smut scene that was not going to be hot bc we know it's canon that carmy does not fuck and then it ended up being really hot and i'm once again asking for therapy.

read: chapter three

2/22/22

Something happened. Can you come over?

That’s all the text said. It’s all that needed to be said for you to drop everything you were doing and hop on the subway. Your heart is pounding in your chest as you imagine every single worst case scenario possible. Carmy had given you little context in regards to what this was about, and you almost regret not asking as your mind runs rampant with possibilities. Not that he would’ve given you an answer. Something about him seemed different. He’d never sent that urgent of a text. 

Not even when the restaurant was slammed and he needed you to come in on your day off. 

Something happened. 

The words continue to echo in your head until you reach him. 

You're at Carmy’s doorstep faster than you ever thought your feet could carry you, and when he opens the door for you, your heart breaks. He’s wrecked. His face is a flushed red, though you don’t think it’s from crying, and he looks like he hasn’t washed his fuckin’ hair in days. You take in his somber expression, like all of the joy he’s ever experienced has been sucked out of him. 

Carmy steps aside, allowing him into your apartment. 

He mumbles something you can barely hear, gesturing towards the couch, so you follow him, taking a seat on the crappy couch you’ve come to love. He stares at the floor, his eyes cold and empty, as you sit in silence. 

It’s you who breaks it, bursting at the seams with anxiety.

“Carmy, you’re scaring me,” you say softly. 

He keeps his eyes fixed on the floor as he licks his lips, swallowing as he opens his mouth to say something. It’s a few moments later that he’s finally able to put two words together to tell you what happened. 

“It’s Michael,” is all he manages to get out. You can hear the break in his voice when he utters Michael’s name, and you’re terrified of what he’s going to say next. 

“Your brother?” you ask, secretly hoping he won’t say yes. 

You feel your stomach drop. 

Carmy nods slowly, “Yeah.” 

He takes a few beats before saying anything else, his head swimming. On one hand it doesn’t feel real, and if he doesn’t say it out loud, maybe it won’t be. There’s a part of him that still thinks this is some cruel, sick joke that Mikey cooked up, just to fuck with him. 

But he knows it’s real. He could hear it in the way that Sugar’s voice broke on the phone. He could hear it in the way that Richie practically screamed at him to stop being such a fuckin’ cuck and come home. He knows it’s real, because for the first time in years, his mom’s called him. 

Must be Sugar or something calling from her phone for her…. ‘S gotta be, he thinks to himself. 

“He’s-,” Carmy starts, before stopping again. Carmy looks away, in the opposite direction of you, focusing his eyes on something outside of the window. 

He can’t look at you because if he looks at you, he might lose it. 

“He’s dead.”

“Oh Carmy,” you gasp, your heart wrenching in your chest as the words leave his mouth. You reach out to touch him, but he flinches, pulling away from you. 

“No,” is all he says through gritted teeth. 

You cannot touch me. You cannot make me feel better about this because I’ll have to feel worse about this, is what he wants to say. 

“The fuckin’ asshole shot himself on the State Street bridge. I don’t-, you don’t get to make me feel better about this,” he snaps, his tone almost a warning. 

“Fuck,” you sigh, sitting up straight and leaning towards him. He may not want your comforts, so you’re going to give your presence. He had asked you to come over after all, right? “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he says, coldly. 

His response is jarring, leaving an unsavory taste in your mouth. You understand that he’s just gotten the most unimaginable news, but it doesn’t sit right with that he’s taking it out on you either. Is that why he invited you over? To be his punching bag? Instead, you decide to pivot to crisis control-mode, hoping to remedy some of the animosity he’s harboring. 

“Okay, well, I’ll call Kate and let her know that you can’t come in tonight, if that helps. Just so you don’t have to-,” you suggest. 

“Why would you fucking do that?” he yells, snapping his head towards you as he finally turns towards you. You can see it in his eyes: how angry and devastated he is – at Michael, at what happened – and even though you know it’s not personal, it stings all the same.

“Because!” you shout back. “Carmy, you just found out-... something terrible. I just don’t think you should-.”

“Yeah, well you don’t get to tell me what to do. You’re not my mom and you’re not my girlfriend so,” he’s quick to retort, rebelliously. 

You scoff at him, shaking your head in utter disbelief.

“You’ve got some fucking nerve, Carmen,” you cut him off with a yell. You know he’s hurting, but this is where you draw the line. “I’m well aware that I am not your girlfriend, but I am your friend, and I care about you.”

You’re right. 

He knows you’re right. 

He knows he’s being a dick, but it’s like he can’t stop his own rage from spilling out sideways as yells:

“Well, if you don’t want to be here, then get out!”

“Stop it!” you cut him off, venom in your voice. 

Carmy looks at you, his bloodshot eyes wide with utter despair. 

“You called me, Carmy. So shut the fuck up and let me fucking help,” you lower your voice, bringing the confrontation between the two of you back down. 

With his eyes fixed to the floor, his mind zoning out to numb the pain, he manages to get out, “I don’t want to-. I need to go to work tonight.”

“I really don’t think that’s a good idea,” you plead softly, yet firmly. 

“Yeah, well, you don’t get to make that decision,” he dismisses. 

He’s right. You don’t. 

“Yeah, okay,” you sigh, giving in. 

It’s a horrible idea – for Carmy to go into the restaurant – but you know he’s going to do it anyway. 

“What can I do for you in the meantime?”

“I just-, I don’t think I can be alone right now,” he mumbles, averting his eyes once again. “Can you just like… sit here with me? Till we gotta go?”

“Yeah.”

The afternoon passes slowly, and you feel like the both of you have been lit on fire – only a matter of time before you burn his whole place down. As you’re getting ready to leave, Carmy sprints into the bathroom, emptying what little contents he has in his stomach into the toilet. You’d been aware that he’d been having some trouble – throwing up before work – but he’d refused to see a doctor. Another decision he’d made clear wasn’t yours to make. What you weren’t aware of was that it had gotten this bad.

Like you’d imagined, going into the restaurant had been a mistake. It hadn’t taken long for Carmy to blow up at a line cook, mid-shift, over an undercooked duck breast. Sure, it was a big mistake, but Carmy had sent the line cook home after making a very public example of them. After the event, Tim had urged Carmy to take a break, offering to expedite for a few, while you rushed him into the walk-in. 

“Hey! You can’t do this shit. Not here. These people look up to you!” you chastise him. 

“He’s a fucking idiot! How do you undercook a fucking-,” Carmy yells, his face twisted into a look of disgust.  

“Carmy!” you shout, stopping him mid-sentence. 

You both know this is not about the duck breast. 

You share a moment of silence together, the cold of the walk-in leaving goosebumps on your skin. You lower your voice, a quiet and intentional demand leave your lips as you instruct:

“Listen, I’m going to give you five minutes to fuckin’ lose it in here, and then you’ve gotta pull it together and finish dinner service, okay?” 

He nods in response, his lips pressed together in a thin, tight line. You watch him pace a few times, before he clutches at his chest, his breathing becoming more uneven. 

This is why coming in had been the worst idea ever. 

“Carmy, are you o-?" you start, genuinely worried about him. You feel like your head is spinning. Carmy is losing control and all you can do is watch. 

He holds out a hand, as if to stop you from coming any closer, so reluctantly, you leave him to it, closing the door behind you. The sound of empty storage containers being thrown across the walk-in fills your ears, as you close the door to the walk-in behind you. You feel like your heart is caught in your throat and watching him go through this is more painful than you could’ve ever imagined. You take a deep breath before returning to your station, keeping your head down for the rest of the shift. 

Dinner service is pure chaos as Carmy undulates from unbroken focus to volatile and unpredictable throughout making the evening hell for the rest of you. The tension is thick, and it’s as if everyone is walking on eggshells around him, more so than normal. By the time it’s over, you insist on walking Carmy home. You make a stop at your favorite deli near his apartment to pick up a quart container of matzo ball soup on the way.

“You gotta eat something,” you encourage, the silence in his apartment deafening.

You’re met with silence as he stares blankly at the table in front of him, his spoon dipped into the soup. Instead, you sit with him, watching him take a few sips of the broth, while the actual food in the soup goes untouched. He doesn’t have the stomach for it. 

He doesn’t know if he has the stomach for this either. 

All of this. Any of this. 

You eventually give in, packing up the soup to put in the fridge for another day, even though you know he’ll probably just toss it when you leave. Just when you think it’s time for you to go, he stops you with the most tender touch to your arm, as he asks:

“Stay?” 

His eyes are watery, and although he’s going to let himself cry yet, he looks more vulnerable than he’s looked all day. How could you say no?

“Yeah,” you agree. 

You change into one of your favorite t-shirts of his and the pair of sweatpants that he always seems to give you as you get ready for bed. He doesn’t even wear them anymore, as if he knows they’ve become your favorite… as if they’ve just become yours. You spend the evening with the TV on, not talking, just sitting in each others’ company. You watch as he smokes a cigarette inside, stress-running a hand through his slicked back hair from his shift earlier. 

Tonight feels heavy. 

Tonight is heavy. 

Before bed, you fill up a glass of water for him, before placing it on his bedside table. Carmy lays on his back, staring up at the ceiling, as you crawl into bed with him. 

He’s too afraid to his close his eye, because if he closes his eyes he’ll picture it: the State Street bridge, Michael…. 

How could he? he thinks to himself, the bitter taste of betrayal welling up at the bottom of his throat. 

You close your eyes, trying your best to fall asleep next to Carmy – something that feels like an impossible task when you can practically hear him thinking out loud beside you. Instead, the two of you just lay there, frozen in silence. You’re not sure how long you’ve been doing it for when you feel Carmy shift closer to you. 

He turns to you so tenderly, practically folding himself into your body, earning the smallest gasp of surprise from you. You’ve never seen him like this as he buries his face into your chest, his body shaking against yours. It’s then that you realize he’s crying, and you know it’s highly likely that this is the first time he’s cried since he heard the news. 

“Carm?” you whisper, unsure if he wants you to acknowledge it or not. 

“Carmy.” 

But he doesn’t respond. He just cries. 

So you let him. 

“I’m so sorry, Carm. I’m so sorry,” you whisper, over and over again. 

You stroke his hair, wanting nothing more than to ease the pain of your best friend, but you know there isn’t much you can do. Instead, you let him cry, running your fingers along his scalp and through his delicate curls, desperate to give him any kind of comfort you can. This is breaking your heart. You fight the tears coming to your eyes because this is so not about you right now. 

Carmy’s body shakes against yours as he finally lets go, surrendering to the huge waves of pain and grief that crash and pull him under. He feels like he’s being taken under a riptide, never to see the surface again. He knows he’s been wildly unfair to you and as he weeps against your body and he’s not sure what he’s done to deserve someone like you. 

Someone who chooses to say, even when he’s being a dick. 

Someone who cares enough to fight with him. 

Someone who cares for him like this. 

When he finally looks up at you with bloodshot eyes and swollen lips, all he can think to do is to kiss you. 

It catches you off guard as he surges forward, pressing his lips against yours, that for a moment, you let him. 

But reality hits and you’re afraid he’s gotten too carried away, swept up in a moment of grief. 

“Carmy, stop it. You’re not-, you’re not okay right now,” you murmur, pushing him away.

He leans his head against your chest again with a sigh, letting out another sob, almost as if he’s given up on the idea. You feel like he’s put you in an impossible position. You’d have been lying if you said you didn’t want to – hadn’t thought about kissing him before – but this felt wrong. He was vulnerable, and you know you’ll both regret it in the morning. 

“I’m sorry, Carm,” you apologize quietly. “I just feel like-, well I’d feel like I'd be taking advantage. I don’t think we should.”

His silence only makes you more nervous, beginning to over explain yourself.

“It’s not that I don’t want to. I-, I do. I just… I don’t want you to regret it because… because you’re upset right now and cause you more-.”

“Please,” is all he says, cutting you off mid-sentence. With the way he’s looking at you, like you’re the sun, the moon, and you hang the stars, you’re not sure how to say no. 

Carmy leans in to kiss you once more before whispering mere inches away from your lips:

“Please.”

He presses his lips against yours again, immediately regretting his past self for not doing this sooner. He’s never tasted anything sweeter than you, and the way you kiss him back seems to bring all thoughts flooding his brain to a halt.

In between kisses you manage enough self control to stammer out, “Are you- are you sure? Is this really what you-?”

“Yes,” he replies, as if it’s a declaration.

“I’ve wanted this for so long. Just-, please,” he pleads, murmuring your name into the soft kisses he begins to leave across your collarbone. “Just wanna feel good.”

“Just wanna feel good,” he repeats. 

You surrender, letting go of your own ambivalence as you focus on the way his lips feel against your skin. It’s then that you realize what absolute fucking idiots the two of you had been for the past few years by ignoring this thing between the two of you. For a moment, you’ll tear down the walls, the rigid boundaries that you’ve kept to help you compartmentalize your relationship with Carmy. 

There’s no possibility of hiding from it when his body feels this good so close to yours. 

The truth is that you are fully, wholly, and stupidly in love with each other. 

“Yes,” you parrot.

With your confirmation, his mouth is back on yours, as you’re pulling him on top of you, deeper into your shared passionate liplock. He wonders why he’s denied himself the pleasure of having you, for this goddamn long. His tongue slides against yours, a tender hand moving up to cup your face. The way his name sounds tumbling out of your mouth sends him into a frenzy. It feels absolutely intoxicating and he can’t get enough. 

Carmy’s hands begin to wander, fingertips sliding at an experimental pace underneath the hem of the t-shirt you’re wearing. You shudder against his touch, gasping as you anticipate where this is going. 

Carmy raises his head to look at you, not sure if it’s a good thing or not. 

“This okay?” he asks you, concern evident in his voice. 

“Yeah,” you nod, giving him permission. “Yeah.”

“Okay,” he whispers.

And then he’s kissing you again, dragging calloused fingertips up and down your torso underneath the shirt, hesitantly making their way to where they’d like to be. You’re not wearing a bra, he realizes, as his fingertips find soft, supple skin at the rounded bottom of your breast. He follows the shape of it, before bringing a cautious palm up to grab hold of the fullness of your breast. You arch into his touch, encouraging him further. Carmy takes his time exploring your body, giving you the lightest touch as his fingertips graze your nipple. 

“Can I take this off?” he questions, only willing to move forward if you say yes.

You nod, breathlessly, “Please.”

You watch as he sits up, pushing the hem of your shirt up over your breasts, revealing your bare body to him. He has to hold back a groan, swallowing hard. 

Carmy stops what he’s doing, in pure awe of you, as he marvels at you. He can’t believe this is real: that you’re here, laying in his bed, allowing him to do the things he thought could only live in his head. 

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” are the words that tumble out of his mouth and you think you may cry. 

“Touch me,” you whisper desperately, begging him to come back to you. 

“Touch me, Carmy.”

Carmy lays his body over yours, and you spread your legs wider, allowing him to fit perfectly between them. He begins to roll his hips against yours as he returns his attention back to your bare breasts. He drags his fingertips over your erect nipples, following his touch with his mouth. 

He practically groans as he wraps his lips around one of your nipples, earning a strangled whine from you as his hot, wet mouth engulfs you. 

“Carmy,” you moan, arching into him. 

He’s rolling his hips against your clothed core on pure instinct, as he takes his time, now exploring unfamiliar territory with his lips and his tongue. You find a good rhythm as he continues to drag his mouth over you, grinding your hips into his underneath your remaining clothes. He’s surprisingly good at this – something you hadn’t expected considering he’d let you know he didn’t have much experience when it came to dating. You assumed that that meant sexually as well. 

As Carmy moves to your other breast, you feel one of his hands snake under the elastic waistband of your sweatpants, lifting his hips so he can feel you. You know you’ve soaked through your cotton panties from the anticipation, and it goes right to his dick as he feels just how wet you are. He doesn’t have much experience with this, but he’s seen in porn. He begins to rub circles across your clothed core, while he busies his mouth with exploring your other breast. 

But he’s not quite where you want him.

“Wait,” you say, stopping him. 

Had he just gotten caught up in the moment?

Did you not want to go this far?

“Did I do something wrong?” he asks you, a concerned tone in his voice. 

“No,” you’re quick to reassure him, shaking your head. “No, I just-.”

Instead of explaining, you reach down to grab his hand, guiding him just a little higher up to your clit. He presses the rough pad of his index finger against it, finally touching you where you need him, gasping to let him know that he’s found the right spot. His eyes are locked on you, watching your face change as the new spot you’ve shown him brings you more pleasure than he could’ve imagined. 

He practically groans into your mouth when he hears the way you whine his name, and he swears he’ll do anything to hear you say it again. 

“There?” he asks you, rubbing tight circles across your clit. 

“Yes,” you pant, growing wetter with every touch. 

Carmy pulls away just for a moment, daring to touch you underneath your panties. You’re so wet for him, and he thinks he may lose his mind as he slides his index finger in between your folds curiously.

“Take them off,” you practically demand. 

“Hm?” he hums, lost in the way you look at him with hooded lids and pupils blown out with pure desire. 

He’s never been this guy. 

The guy that gets the girl. 

He never knew he could feel like this guy, but here you are, begging him to undress you. 

“I said take them off,” you repeat yourself, more desperate this time. You take a lighter approach with what you say next, the smallest giggle in your voice. “And while you’re at it, we gotta get you naked too.” 

“Yeah,” he says, with the kind of conviction he’d say ‘heard’ with. 

He’s stripping off his shirt, and you’re sliding your pants and underwear off with him. 

“I have a condom in my emergency kit,” you say, the both of you busy shedding your clothes. 

“Yeah?” he asks you, relieved to hear it. He hadn’t thought that far yet. 

“Yeah, hold on,” you reply, getting up from the bed. 

Carmy thinks he may pass out as he watches you stand, giving him a full view of your naked body. You disappear only for a moment, before returning with the small emergency kit you always keep in your backpack. It’s equipped with all the ‘just-in-cases:’ tampons, panty liners, safety pins… condoms. You pull out a single condom before returning to the bed. Carmy’s kneeling on the bed, and you mirror his body language, doing the same. 

“What would you like to do?” you inquire softly. 

As turned on and hot for him as you are, you want to make sure that he still wants to do this. He finds himself surprised at your question, not sure how to answer it. 

“Think we can just pick up where we left off?” he asks you. 

“Yeah,” you reply. 

You place the condom down beside you on the bed, before leaning in to press your lips against his again. He inhales as you kiss him, his tongue immediately sliding against yours as one of his hands goes to the back of your head, pulling you closer to him. He’s surprised as you pull away from him, beginning to leave hot, open mouthed kisses down his neck, his chest, and he hisses in anticipation as run your hands down his muscular abdomen, following with your mouth. 

“Hold on, I uh-,” he stutters out, as he anticipates where you’re going with this. 

You pause, sitting up tall as you kneel, your body across from his. 

“I just uh… if you do that, I don’t know if I’ll last long,” he admits, a blush running across his cheeks. 

“Yeah, no. Totally cool,” you reassure him, before crashing your lips against his once again. 

As you tangle your tongues together once again, Carmy begins to lead you down towards the bed, pushing you back, and climbing on top of you. He still has his sweatpants on, so you begin to bring your hands down to them. He hisses as you cup his rock hard erection, pleasantly surprised by what you feel. 

“Wanna take these off?” you ask in between kisses. 

“Yeah,” Carmy nods, sitting up for a moment. 

You wait with baited breath as he strips his sweatpants off, wondering if he’s as thick as he feels. You’re practically pulsing, squeezing around nothing as you finally see him, Carmy, your best friend, fully naked. 

God, he’s beautiful. 

How had you not noticed how physically attractive he was? 

It’s not that you hadn’t noticed. It’s that you hadn’t let yourself think about it. 

You reach over to where you left the condom, handing it to him. Carmy takes it, a blush running across his cheeks as he rolls it on, still in disbelief that you’re about to do this. He returns to you, laying his body over top of you as you space for him once again between your legs. He’s hesitant to give you his full bodyweight as he gives you a long, passionate kiss. And before he knows it, you’re reaching down to stroke him, and he’s thrusting into your hand, his breath becoming heavier and heavier. 

You feel him as he presses his tip against you, rubbing it up and down before pushing into you. You both gasp as he gives you shallow thrusts, testing the waters, thrusting deeper into you with each one.

He pauses, exhaling as he’s fully inside of you. You’re pulsing around him, practically causing him to lose his mind with the way you feel alone.

“Fffffuck, you feel good,” he moans, trying not to cum right then and there. 

He begins giving you shallow, hesitant thrusts, unsure of himself. He wants to make you feel good. And he’s also terrified that this is going to end before it’s even properly started. 

Carmy stops again, pausing within you. 

“Sorry, I just-.” 

“No, it’s okay. Take your time.”

He’s nervous. You can tell he’s nervous and that he’s trying not to cum. 

“How about… I take control?” you suggest, hesitantly. “And that way, if you need me to stop we can um… well, you can just tell me.”

“Uh… yeah,” he agrees with a nod. “Sure.” 

Clumsily, the two of you switch positions, making sure he knows you’re okay with this. As he lies on his back, staring up at you, you straddle his hips, giving him the smallest smile. You reach down, guiding him into you once again. You gasp as he fills you, his thick cock stretching you, especially in this position. Carmy’s hands go to your hips as he watches you take him. 

“You feel really good too, Carm,” you finally say, your hands moving to his chest to brace yourself as you begin shifting your hips forward and back at the most unbearably slow pace. 

Carmy thinks he must be dreaming as he watches you ride him. His hands slide over your hips, wrapping around your body so that he can touch your butt. He’s practically digging the pads of his fingers into your hips as you begin moving over him at a faster pace. 

“Shit… you’re really good at this,” he groans, as you lean down to kiss him. 

You giggle against his lips, and whatever thoughts he has in his head disappear. Carmy begins thrusting up into you, his hands on your hips encouraging you to move a little faster as you kiss him. You’re moaning his name, whining as you feel every single inch of his cock slide against your walls, becoming more and more breathless by the minute. Your gasps turn into moans, getting higher in pitch as you go. His hands are guiding your hips, taking some control back as you grind against each other. 

“Carmy,” you cry out as he thrusts his hips hard into you. “If you keep doing that, I’m gonna cum.” 

“Yeah?” he asks. You nod, breathless, as you bury your face into his chest. 

He holds your hips down, pinning you down against him as pushing his hips into yours. 

“You wanna switch?” he asks, breathless. “Can I-?” 

“Please,” you reply eagerly.

You switch positions once more, and as Carmy guides himself into you again, you can tell he’s much more confident than last time you’d found yourself in this position. You wrap a leg around his waist and he holds you there, beginning to move his hips against yours again. He works his way up to a rapid pace, his face turning red as he does, and you’re writhing underneath his body, whispering the dirtiest things into his ear with every single thrust.

“Holy shit, Carmy. You feel so goddamn good too,” you praise him. “God, you’re gonna make me cum.”

“Yeah?” he manages to get out in between grunts. 

“Yes. Please let me cum,” you beg him, as he hits that spot inside of you, earning another loud cry. 

“Don’t stop.”

He’s surprised to learn that he likes it when you beg as he tangles his fingers with yours, pinning you down so that he can fuck you. With your hand in his, so close to your climax, you let slip:

“I thought about this too. I’ve wanted this for so long too, Carmy.”

“Fuck,” he howls as he drives into you, his sole purpose to earn more praise from you. To hear you cry out his name. To give you what you’ve been begging for. 

You angle your hips upward so that he can go even deeper, hitting all the way to the back of you. You’re grasping at his back, his arms, his biceps, hanging onto any piece of him that you can as he shudders, letting out the most guttural sounds. You’re squeezing around him, as he takes you to your high. The feeling of you cumming, squeezing around him like your life depends on it drive him wild, and he’s fucking you through it, the feeling of your orgasm bringing him to his. 

As you finally come down, you pull Carmy in for a searing kiss. 

“Holy shit, Carm,” you say, breathlessly. 

“Yeah,” he pants against your lips. 

Even if just for tonight, all feels right in the world. 

This feels right. 

*

The light of day is sobering. Before Carmy’s even had a chance to open his eyes, the events of the day before come flooding in, running in vicious circles around his mind: the phone call from Sugar, Richie screaming at him… and then…. 

Fuck. 

He’d crossed the line with you. 

He doesn’t know whether to be mad at himself or devastated that he fucked up, considering he’s sure as hell not going to let himself feel anything about Mikey yet. 

Michael. 

Michael’s dead. 

And he might��ve done the one thing he swore he wouldn’t do – the one thing that he’d been afraid of: that he might just lose you. 

As you stir in bed next to him, slowly blinking your eyes open, you turn over on your side. Carmy’s sitting on the edge of the bed and you can see Carmy’s stuck in his head. While you’d let yourself surrender to whatever that was last night, you knew today was different. 

“Hey,” is all you say, hugging Carmy’s bed sheets closer to your naked body. 

“Um… listen. We don’t have to-,” you begin, searching for the right words. “Let’s just forget about this, okay? I don’t-. You’ve got a lot going right now and-.”

You take a breath. You know the two of you can’t be together right now, even after your revelation last night. 

“I don’t want to lose you.”

Carmy swallows, fighting back the emotions that begin to swell in his chest. 

He feels sick to his stomach. 

But he doesn’t want to do this in front of you. 

“Yeah, no. We can… we can just forget it,” is all he gets out, his eyes fixed on the floor. 

“You sure?” you question. 

He takes a beat before answering:

“I don’t want to lose you either.” 

And even with the declaration you’d made – the promise to forget since neither of you could afford to lose each other – things had become different. In the weeks following, your communications with Carmy were less than normal. While you understood he was processing, grieving, he’d withdrawn from you, and it hurt more than you had the words for. 

You’d check in, making sure he knew you were here for him if he needed to talk. But he put his head down, working night after night at the restaurant, cold, stoic, and checked out. You worried about him. And you also knew that you both needed some space from each other. 

Some days you regret it – sleeping together – and other days, you don’t. You think that maybe everyone had been right about the two of you all along – that this had been inevitable. But it happened under the worst timing, the worst circumstances and you miss your best friend. You wish, in some ways, that two of you could just go back to normal.

read: chapter five

taglist: @allthefandomstogether @gaysludge @sobshoney @harrysmatcha @starbritestarlite @tpwkkmila @cool-girl-is-hot @nunya7394 @galaxyprincess51-blog @carmensberzattos @blue-weekends @rexorangecouny @ridingthehotmessexpress @the-nursery

[atinycafe]

really REALLY intimate late night sex with joong brainrot OH MY GOD I'LL PASS AWAY it's not even fucking it's like the rawest forms of intimacy and love THEY JUST LOVE EACH OTHER SO MUCH ☹️☹️

STAY

pairing: hongjoong x fem!reader warnings: nsfw under the cut, use of pet names (baby), unprotected sex (pull out method used), soft sex, quick handjob wrd cnt: 1.2k author's note: wrote this half asleep, sorry if it sucks, not my proudest work but i hope u like it, thank you 4 ur request bb taglist: @hyukssunflower @cqndiedcherries @ad0rechuu lmk if you want 2 be in my permanent taglist masterlist

"don't go," you whisper weakly into the silence of the room, reaching out for hongjoong's figure in the darkness. with delicate fingers, you manage to seize his wrist, and he gently withdraws his hand from yours only to grasp it firmly, pressing his warm palm against yours and intertwining his fingers with yours.

"'m right here, baby," he says, but his back still faces you. it's his habit, you know, whenever he can't sleep, he just sits on the side of the bed, contemplating melodies he could create. it often leads to him leaving the comfort of your warmth to head to your home studio, where he meticulously writes down the notes of the music on random sheets of paper to remember them.

you stand up on your knees, swaying slightly over his form, and embrace him from behind, wrapping your arms around his neck as you bury your face in the crook of his neck. you take a slow breath, savoring the sensation of his cold silver chain against your warm skin. as you press soft kisses on his neck, he strokes your forearm back and forth, comforting you in his gentle embrace.

"can't sleep?" you ask, though you already know the answer. you release your hold on him but shift to hug him lower, wrapping your arms around his waist, as you trace soft patterns on his bare chest. he never wears a shirt to sleep. he nods in response, simply humming as he focuses on the feeling of your nails gently grazing his skin. he loves the feather-like sensation; it soothes him and helps chase away his thoughts. your fingers continue their trail lower and lower, feeling each dip of his abs, and he chuckles softly, muttering something about how it tickles.

"let me make you feel better," you whisper, planting a tender kiss on his shoulder while your hand slips into his sweatpants, finding his length. you stroke it gently until you feel it come to life in your palm. he lets out a soft groan, getting lost in the moment. his hands grip the edge of the mattress, clenching the sheets tightly. his chest rises and falls more intensely now, and he lowers his head, a few strands of hair falling over his forehead, grazing the bridge of his nose. you bring your hand back to your face, moistening it with your spit before continuing to stroke his dick slowly.

"yeah baby just like that," he moans, nodding along with the rhythm of your hand. as you pick up the pace, the sensation overwhelms him in the best way possible. he's completely captivated and can't get enough of it. your kisses on his neck only adding more to his arousal.

as he feels himself getting closer, twitching in your hand, he suddenly grabs your wrist, halting your movement. he gently makes you pull back, and then he stands up, turning to face you. bending down, he kisses your forehead tenderly, the gesture so soft that you might have missed it if your eyes were closed. stepping back slightly, he gazes at you intently, his eyes carefully studying every feature of your face. he delicately traces a finger from your eyebrow to your jaw, and when he reaches the tip of your chin, he tilts your face upwards, ensuring that you're looking at him.

"i love you," he simply says, and you echo the sentiment, both of your voices soft, further enhancing the soothing atmosphere enveloping you. he plants another gentle kiss on your lips before guiding you down onto the mattress. he continues to shower you with affectionate kisses, trailing them down your neck with tenderness. as he does so, he takes the time to remove his pants. after he's left a trail of kisses on your collarbone, he gently lowers your shorts down along with your panties, leaving you as bare as he is.

he strokes his dick twice before he pushes in softly, drawing out moans from the both of you. he leans his body over yours, supporting himself with his elbows, careful not to put too much weight on you. his focus is entirely on you, making sure you feel ever inch inside you.

"you feel so good, fuck i can't get enough of you." he groans in your ear as he keeps thrusting harder and harder, pushing your body higher on the bed. every time you think he can't get deeper he proves you wrong. he showers you with a cascade of heartfelt compliments, expressing his admiration for every little detail that makes you special to him. each word is spoken with genuine affection, as he pulls out only to bottom out, his tip grazing the spot that has you seeing stars.

"i love you so so much, always here for me, that's my good girl, mmh, can always count on you," he pants, your moans music to his ears as you press his body closer to you, scratching his back in the motion. the sting from the scratches sends shivers down his spine, fuelling him to keep going.

"love you too," you whimper, the feeling of his dick in your walls making you almost delirious. you wish you could answer but your tongue fails you, unable to respond to his praises as the pleasure overwhelms your senses. all coherent thoughts escape you, leaving you repeating the same words like a broken record, "love you, love you, l-love you."

"it's okay i got you pretty, don't worry, i got you," he answers back, now standing on his knees as he looks at your face, expression completely fucked out. your droopy eyes match his half-lidded eyes and he swears he could cum from the sight of your flushed cheeks, his baby looking so pretty with beads of sweat forming on the edge of her hairline. he feels his stomach clench down, his body reacting to you and he bites down on his bottom lip, "take it baby, just wanna make you feel good."

"wanna have you with me forever, can't live without you baby," he brings two fingers down on your clit, making quick motions that have you arching your back on the mattress as you reach for something, anything to ground you down. you're met with one of his hands, firm on both of your wrists and you let out a silent cry as you finally cum. he follows suit, pulling out to cum on your stomach, head lowered as he tries to catch his breathe. he stays still for a minute, still holding your wrists before he gets up to grab something to clean you off.

he wipes down your body and leaves you once again to drop the towel somewhere but you're too tired to worry about him not being next to you. he gently slides you under the covers, cradling your body in his arms.

"was supposed to make you sleep, but i'm the one exhausted," you chuckle sleepily against his chest, and he laughs in response, stroking your hair. you drift off quickly, completely relaxed in his arms, and hongjoong spends the night listening to your soft snores. he swears it's a more beautiful sound than any melody he could ever create.

[teyamsatan]

𝕄𝕠𝕟𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕚𝕟 𝕄𝕖 | ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕀𝕀𝕀: 𝕀 𝔸𝕞 𝕃𝕠𝕤𝕥, 𝔹𝕦𝕥 ℕ𝕠𝕥 𝕀𝕟 𝕐𝕠𝕦

Pairing: Neteyam x (f)Omaticaya!Reader

synopsis: in order to fulfil your revenge plans on Neteyam, you have to give up a lot of your life, including a future with a man who loves you dearly.

warnings: 18+ minors DNI, aged-up! Neteyam/Reader, enemies-to-lovers, angst (@lanasblood trying to be better about this), smut (fingering, orgasm denial), strong language, neteyam and reader being horrible to each other lol

wc: 6.5k words

a/n: things are starting to get spicy besties 😌 i have to admit, although i am a lot more comfortable with friends-to-lovers, or more angsty tropes, i adore writing the sexual tension that comes with e2l and i hope i did it justice and you enjoy this chapter. i can't wait to hear your thoughts, bbs and thank you again for all the love and support on this series xx (thank you very much also to @cinetrix for her amazing Neteyam art ily bestie x)

this is only half proof-read, so if you see any mistakes no you don't

na'vi compendium: yawne - beloved, Tsakarem - Tsa'hik in training, tìlor - beauty, txepvi  - spark

: ̗̀➛ previous chapter (x) : ̗̀➛ series masterlist (x) : ̗̀➛ series playlist (x)

In a perfect world, I'd kill to love you the loudest But all I do is live to hurt you soundless Say you see I'm lying, babe, and let this go I can never promise you tomorrow

The departing footsteps echoed through the forest as O'ì'en left you all alone, with a broken heart and the man that broke it, and the feeling left you empty, the hurt of what transpired, of what he did, what you did, how with each passing blow to each other’s lives, this was no longer just a petty rivalry but felt like so much more, like too much more. You threatened him, you spit all sorts of petty warnings about hell and burning - and in the heat of the moment, that sounded cool, and doable. Not anymore, as you stood motionless in the clearing and realised that Neteyam still had so much power over you, that his grasp on your life and on your heart was so tight, tighter than anyone else’s, tight enough to bruise and crush it with a tug of his fisted fingers. You removed yourself from his grasp like his touch burned you, which it felt like it did, and put distance in between your bodies, so that you could see him, so that you could clear your mind, so that his presence wouldn’t have the effect on you it always did, that you were sure was just your body recoiling in hatred, that always manifested itself in goosebumps and shivers down your spine. 

“You’re such a fucking asshole.” The tears stung as you willed them back into your tear ducts. It’s been 7 years since Neteyam has seen you cry, and you’ll be damned if that would ever change, and especially right now, as you watched the smirk grow with every departing step, with every erratic blink of your eyes, as you tried to stop them from falling down your face, as he knew he got to you, that he made you pay for the words you uttered to him before. 

“Oh, yawne. One day you’ll learn to not punch above your weight, and I guess since no one else is willing to, it falls onto me to teach you.” He walks slow, purposeful steps as he nears you once more, and his eyes boring into you, filled with intensity and a feeling you couldn’t quite place, that didn’t quite match the arrogance staining his lips like poison, stilled you in your spot, until he was so close, you could feel his warm breath and musky scent, until your heart boomed painfully in your chest, echoing loudly in your ears, marginally drowning out his next words. 

“Did you really think you could threaten me and everything I’ve worked for, my relationship and the rest of my life, without any repercussions, huh? Did you really think I would go down without a fight?” 

His hand raised and reached to push some unruly strands of hair out of your face, and you couldn’t look away from the soft glimmer in his eyes, that was so at odds with the rest of his face, you wondered if he even knew it was there. You wondered if he knew what it signified, because you didn’t. And despite your best efforts otherwise, you couldn’t deny the curiosity that deluged you, to try and find out.

The hint in his molten golden orbs dissipated as quickly as it appeared, and so did any middling emotion that tried you, as you once more found yourself reaching for your knife and unsheathing it, holding it in between both your hands, aiming for a shoulder… or a neck, and with a feral growl, you pushed your entire forced into the blow, and yelped in pain as one of his hands wrapped around both your wrists and twisted until the knife dropped pitifully on the ground with a loud clink. Tears threatened you once more at how futile the effort had been, how easy for him to overpower you like you were nothing more than a child, or a doll. He pinned your hands above your head and pushed you until your back collided with the bark of a tree and you felt the wind getting knocked out of your lungs at the contact. 

“Tsk, tsk, tsk… why must you always resort to violence… yawne?” Your eyes widened as the hand that wasn’t holding you ghosted over your cheeks, tracing the air right above your lips with his thumb, and you were struggling, yet again, with the feelings that were plaguing you, that made burning appear everywhere his fingers were, burning the travelled down your body until they reached your core, that throbbed and clenched, that desperately asked you for something you would never, ever give it. After exploring your face, and tracing your jaw, his fingers finally settled on your chin, pushing it gently until your face angled upwards to meet his and no further breath could inch its way down your airways at the sight of him, at the way he looked at you, at the way it made you feel. 

“You told me that you won’t mind burning in Hell as long as I burn with you. Well…” he broke eye contact to look around him at the forest surrounding you both. “Do you hear that, yawne? Fire is catching. And looks like we’re going to get to burn together after all.” 

“Let me go. I told you what would happen if you ever touched me again.” His smirk never faltered, but only deepened as his eyes trailed over your body, settling on your lower abdomen. 

“Mmm, yawne. I’m not sure you mean that.” It was your turn to reciprocate his guise, no ounce of shame or hesitation on your face.

 

“Let me go and you’ll find out whether I mean it or not.” his eyes widened, if only for a split second, and you felt like you imagined his grip on you loosening, or the fleeting sight of goosebumps peppered on his chest and neck, where your warm breath touched him. 

“Are you really going to miss your chance to find lover boy and apologise like the good girl you like people to think you are?”

Your eyes lost momentary focus as he spoke. His words, although as cruel as usual, made guilt peak its ugly head over the thin-veiled curtain it was hiding behind, and you knew he was right. This was irrelevant. This whole fandangle of aggression and snarky remarks you always engaged in was not what should be occupying your brain, it wasn’t what mattered. O'ì'en mattered. Fixing Neteyam’s damage… and your own - that’s the only thing that mattered right now. 

“Funny how quickly you seem to have forgotten about the one you supposedly love so much when I have your hands pinned above your head, isn’t it… yawne.”

His hands trailed over your arm as if on accident as he let you go and you felt embarrassed. Embarrassed at his words, at his effect on you, at how hard you were fighting your own body and mind as they were struggling to regain composure from his touch, and his voice, and his presence.

Hate. That’s all it was. It consumed you, and you wish it didn’t, but at the end of the day, it was still just harmless, bona fide, unadulterated hate. You ignored the way your cheeks caught fire and burned beneath your skin as you ran towards the village, towards where you assumed O’i’en was headed, without sparing your biggest, your only enemy a second glance. 

'Cause I have yet to learn how not to be his This city will surely burn if we keep this as it is

You spent hours searching for him, but despite trying every place you knew he liked to frequent, all efforts proved futile. You knew he wouldn’t want to be found, but still, you held a glimmer of hope in your heart that at least subconsciously, he’d want you to find him, to allow him to explain what was mostly inexplainable and inexcusable - you couldn’t blame him for proving you wrong.

Eventually, as eclipse was nearing with each passing moment, defeated and regretful, you went to the nearby river, that was almost deserted due to the approaching evening, that you hoped would bring you some answers, or some solace… some strength. What were you supposed to do? Were you supposed to listen to Eywa, and your own heart telling you to go for this mateship that you knew was wrong, but felt drawn towards, for your own twisted, sadistic reasons? Or should you listen to your mind who told you to fight for what you knew would be a comfortable, healthy future, one that didn’t particularly enthral you, but hoped you could aspire to and embrace in time, with the insight that came with getting older? As always, the war between your mind and heart led to a painful impasse where both of them were bloodied and injured, but no discernible winners were left to claim victory on the choice, or on all the questions that plagued you. 

You recognised Jake’s steps and his scent as he approached you, and you sighed. You were not in the mood for a lecture. Sure enough, he sat next to you, looking at the waterfall falling violently into the otherwise peaceful river, that rippled and bruised at the contact. It was funny to you now, sitting here, how that was a perfect metaphor for your relationship with Neteyam, how in his presence, you were just a river, and he was a force of nature, there to disturb and perturb, there to change you, so aggressive and formidable, and so strangely necessary. You were sad at how much his presence in your life mattered, how you knew that despite all the hurt and the pain, you owed him so much of who you were, so much of where you were. Because he pushed you every day, to be better, to strive for more, to want to be more like him in some ways, less like him in others - a better daughter, a better friend, a better sibling, a better soldier, a better warrior, a better clan member. 

“Hey, kid. What are you doing here, eclipse will be upon us soon. You know the rules.”

“I know the rules, Jake. And with all due respect, right now, I really couldn’t care less about them.”

You turned to him and noted his expression melting from one of annoyance, raised eyebrow and an open mouth, ready to chastise you for your insubordination and recalcitrance, into a soft and pitying one, as he took in your tear-stained face and trembling lips. You never cried, not in front of anyone who mattered, so the fact that here you stood, so obviously distressed, concerned Jake more than he could say out loud.

“What’s wrong, baby girl? What happened?” 

“I… I need to find O'ì'en… I’ve been looking for hours, but I can’t find him. Have you seen him anywhere?” Your sniffles and a hoarse, broken voice were more than enough to bring a grimace to the Olo’eyktan’s face. 

“Oh, honey…” his arms circled your much smaller body and he squeezed, the much needed hug warm and very welcome. Your hand tightened around his forearm, and you started sobbing silently as he held you. You’ve always been immensely grateful for the Sullys and their patriarch, but especially so in moments like this, when his paternal instincts kicked in, a role he was much better at than he ever gave himself credit for. 

“I ruined it… I ruined everything. I should have told him, I should have been honest with him. I should have come to you and asked you to free me of this responsibility that I never wanted to shoulder in the first place.” 

“You can still ask, kid. We would never force you into something you genuinely aren’t comfortable with, and you should know that. In fact, you do know that. But you didn’t come. Why?” 

You had no answer to that, because truthfully, you didn’t know. Getting revenge on Neteyam wasn’t a good enough answer, and more and more, you realised that - and you knew Jake would challenge you on it as soon as the words came out of your mouth. Getting revenge isn’t a good enough reason to sacrifice your own happiness, and liberty, your future as a warrior and your future with the man you wanted to want so badly. It wasn’t a good enough reason because it wasn’t the reason - not the only reason, not the full reason, but that was something you couldn't think about, you couldn't even fathom, not yet, so you didn't.

At your lack of response, Jake sighed and looked contemplatively at the river being perturbed by the waterfall crashing on it, at the way the water rippled and undulated, at the way the bioluminescent glow of the underwater plankton, that was visible now that eclipse settled over the land, warped under its force. 

“Did I ever tell you I had this girlfriend back on Earth? This was when I was young, about your age.” You shook your head softly, not looking at him, still focused and mesmerised by the same view he was studying. 

“She was amazing. So kind, and sweet, and beautiful… and good. Too good for me. And I loved her. She was the first girl I looked at and thought that maybe, just maybe, she would be the one. I used to pick her up after her classes were over and we would just drive in my car, just down the coast, in Anaheim at sundown, and I remember feeling so happy, thinking that I would feel this way the rest of my life.” 

You thought about that, and about your boyfriend, who very much seemed like what Jake was describing, who brought you comfort and safety. You thought about walking with him in this place Jake called Anaheim, in a heavenly place away from hurt and pain, away from mistakes and fears, just two people who loved each other, who wanted to spend the rest of their lives together. You felt grief envelop you when the face that appeared in your visions wasn’t the one you wanted to see, the one you hoped you’d see, the one you needed to see. You hated your brain and your heart for not allowing you to commit to him the way you knew you should, in the way that would ensure you a future of happiness and peace, a love worth harbouring, a pure and kind love, just like the one Jake described. 

“What happened? Between… you and her, I mean?” Jake shrugged, a small, content smile on his face. 

“It just didn’t work out. I joined the military, she continued her studies. We would have never worked. I wasn’t good enough for her, and she deserved someone who could love her the way she was meant be loved. Anaheim is still a beautiful memory to me, and I’ll always cherish it, but it made way for something much, much better. For both of us.

I think sometimes we hold on to things we think we need, we want to want, but these things pertain to a version of ourselves that isn’t fully authentic. I think it’s easy to pretend when we’re with certain people that life is one way, that we could fit in it, in this world we’ve created in our heads, in the world that they inspire, but the sooner we accept the realities of our circumstances, of who we are and where we truly belong, the more time we have to enjoy life for how it’s meant to be lived: fully, wildly, being wholly ourselves.” 

He stood up and headed back towards the village, not before giving you an affectionate pat on the head and a squeeze of your shoulders. His last words echoed in your ears long after he departed, leaving you with so much to think about, and so much pain at knowing he was right, and that soon, you’d have to break a heart and learn to mend your own.

“You can still ask, kid. I just think, deep down, Anaheim isn’t for you… just like it wasn’t for me.” 

But I'd give anything to stop time And drive around Anaheim at sun down And teach my mind to put you first

It took the whole night, but you eventually found him, after a painful conversation with his mother, at a different river he used to love coming to as a little kid with his father, one much further away from the village. He was sitting on the river bank, lost in thought, his feet dangling mindlessly in the water that rushed downstream, agitated and tumultuous, much like your mind. You sighed deeply, trying your hardest to build up the courage for the most difficult conversation you’ve ever had, one in which you knew the end result was a broken heart, one that you caused, that you never meant to, that you would never want. You knew what it was like to be broken-hearted, sad and unmoored from the reality you’ve built up in your mind, from your hopes and dreams, from the future you were promised and now will never have again. But after the conversation with Jake, you knew it was the right thing to do. You loved O'ì'en, you truly did, just not enough to ever give him everything he needed and deserved, not for the rest of your life. You had darkness in you he would never be skilled enough to wander through, to bring light into, and you would never want him to try, not when it would dim his own light, that deserved to be nourished and heightened by someone, who much like him, was good and pure, and better than you’d ever be. 

“O'ì'en…” 

He wasn’t startled by your presence. His gaze didn’t shift from where it was intently fixed, and you knew you shouldn’t expect that it did. You wouldn’t want to look at yourself, either. 

“You know, I watched for so long the interactions between you and Neteyam, and they always made me sad and uncomfortable. The hatred that I could not understand, that seemed to occupy so much of your time and space in both your minds, that consumed you both. I watched it, and I wanted to say something, but I never thought it was my place. It hurt me, seeing you suffer at his hands, and hurt me that you always reciprocated, that you never took the high road, that you always felt the need to one-up him, to give as good as you got. It was so toxic and unhealthy, and I hoped in time, you’d move away from it. I hoped I could help you. But now, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to, not anymore. And I don’t know if I want to.” 

Tears rolled down your face with every word uttered, with every sentence that cut deeper and deeper in you, until you were bleeding and bruised, until it all hurt, being here, seeing him, hearing him, the past and the future, the present and your actions, and Neteyam’s actions, and everything that lead to this moment. It was so much easier to get your heart broken, you realise faintly, than to break a heart. Heartbroken, you could pity yourself, victimise yourself, tell yourself and the world that it’s not you, but the other person, the one who instigated it. You can sleep at night knowing you were wronged, that if it wasn’t for the pain that someone else caused you, things would be different, easier. There was nothing easy about watching a good person suffer and knowing you caused it, and you wondered how you were ever going to fall asleep again, how were you going to be able to live with yourself. 

“I didn’t choose this, O'ì'en… any of this. I need you to know this. Mo’at asked us to come to her as a matter of urgency the other day, she told us that Eywa gave her a sign, showed her a vision, and that by her will, Neteyam and I will have to become a mated-pair.” You felt bad about leaving out certain… extenuating circumstances, but you realise that sometimes, certain things are better left unsaid and once some words are uttered, some actions taken, they can’t be recalled, they can’t be reversed, they won’t dematerialise - their echoes will forever ring through time, leaving damage and hurt in their wake, and you didn’t want that - not for him. 

“Have you told her you don’t want to? Have you gone to the Tsa’hik, or the Olo’eyktan, or the Tsakarem and talked to them, told them you are in love with someone else, that you made up your mind? Did you fight for us at any point? For me?” 

Your eyes widened at his words, that had an edge to them you’ve never observed in him before, that you didn’t even realise he was truly capable of. The words stung needles on your skin and in your eyes, that had prickling tears still falling uninterrupted, like summer rain, soaking your heart and soul that hurt because you knew that you couldn’t give him an answer that would satisfy him… you couldn’t give him an answer at all. 

“They look at you like you’re their daughter. They would listen to you if you asked. But you didn’t, did you?” 

“I once overheard Lo’ak talk about you and Neteyam to his human friend. He was concerned about you. About both of you. But aside from that, he talked about you two like you were an inevitability. About passion that ran so deep there was no way only hatred fuelled it. That there must be something underneath it all. I heard this and it made me angry at the time… I thought that he was unreasonable and out of line. Naively, I took your affection at face value and never looked beyond. Until now, that is. When I realised that in our time together, all the time we shared, all the moments that were sweet and innocent and everything I’ve ever wanted, you’ve never once shared even a fraction of that passion for me.” 

“O'ì'en, no…” 

“I think, deep down, you don’t want to get out of this because it’s finally a way to bridge the gap that has existed between you and Neteyam for so long, a gap you secretly wished had never existed. I think you’ve been in love with him since you were children, and this was the perfect opportunity to change a path you thought was set in stone before. I think he’s in love with you, too. But both of you are too mean, too stubborn with each other to see past your differences. To talk.” 

“You’re wrong.” The temper was rising in your chest as his head continued shaking, denying your statement, as his words were processing in your mind, the unbelievable, insane, unreasonable words that you couldn’t believe were being uttered right before you, not by him. You wanted to scream at him, to shout and tell him that it’s all wrong, all of this, everything is all wrong. That the passion he’s talking about is just intense dislike that was so grand, so overpowering, it couldn’t be contained inside your body, nor inside his. That you were not in love with Neteyam - you hated Neteyam. With every fibre of your being, you loathed the man that hurt you so deeply, so intimately, for so long, that forsook the past you shared and the memories you made and what you meant to him, or what he meant to you.

You wanted to tell him that he’s delusional in ever thinking that man could ever be in love with you, when all he did was find new ways to torture you, to belittle you, to make you feel lesser than him, lesser than anyone he knew. How could that ever be love? How could that ever work? This was love. What you had with O'ì'en. Pure and good and kind and easy. Love wasn’t supposed to hurt, right? Love was supposed to feel natural, like coming home after a long, exhausting day, it wasn’t supposed to be what made the day long and exhausting in the first place. He was so wrong. 

But you didn’t find it in you to argue with him. Not with him. Someone else will have to bear the consequences of your repressed anger, but not O'ì'en, because he deserves better than what he got, and what you gave, and in truth.. none of this mattered anyway. Arguing would make no difference in this doomed relationship, so you calmed yourself for the time being and spoke in as even of a tone you could manage. 

“O'ì'en… I think you’re wrong. But, it doesn’t matter. You’re right that I didn’t talk to Mo’at, and that I should have. Regardless of the circumstances that led to this, I am so sorry. I will forever be sorry for the way you found out, for the way this came to be. I’m so sorry you had to be collateral damage in a war that is only mine to bear. I had a whole plan about how to tell you, I had so many things I wanted to say to you. That I’m grateful to you, and that I love you. That I’m sorry it wasn’t the way that you deserve to be loved, but I do love you. That I will never forget you, and your affection that shone so brightly over me, that was a safe haven from the bad storms I’ve had to weather for so long. That I’ll be sorry every day that I wasn’t good enough for you, but am relieved by the notion that one day, you’ll find someone so much better than me, someone who will be able to give you everything you deserve and then some, and I’m relieved in knowing you will be thankful to have been rid of me.” 

You decided this would have to be enough for now. One day, maybe you’ll be able to face him again. One day, maybe he’ll even be able to spare you a glance, or a smile. But not today. 

“I hope you forgive me one day.” 

“Me, too.” 

But I'd give anything to stop time, commit to you and not crimes Against your truth and lose sight of every divide threatening to undo this story But baby, I'm so sorry, I don't think that I'll ever memorise this route

It was a long way back to the village, and with every step taken and every moment passed, the anger that you tried to stifle for his sake came back ten fold - the tiring days of fighting, of crying, of suffering, of uncertainty and rampant emotions all building up within you, all coming to a calamitous zenith that threatened to spill all around you, that begged and urged for revenge, for payback on the man that caused it all, the man that was at the centre of all your life’s woes.

He ruined your relationship? Well… let’s see how he’ll like a taste of his own medicine. You knew exactly where you’ll find him, because you knew he’d be in the place he knew he could pester you the most, in a place that’s supposed to be yours, that he tainted over and over, that you will make sure to conquer back from him, the way you eventually would all of the pieces of yourselves he’s taken from you through time.

Your tent was quiet and untouched, unlike the little nook behind it, that was completely segregated from the rest of the clan, an oasis of secrecy and privacy in an otherwise bustling environment. A place that should be yours alone, but now hid two Na’vi, one of them mewling softly at the actions of the other. Neteyam was focused on his mate’s neck, their make-out session so intense, they didn’t even notice you until it was too late, until you stood behind them, until your presence was announced by a deep sigh and a disappointed click of your tongue.

“Oh, how disappointing.” 

The girl let out a distressed yelp at your voice and pushed Neteyam off of her, eliciting a deep growl from the man that was less than impressed by the interruption. 

“Am I interrupting?”  

You saw Neteyam’s eyes widened slightly at the sight of you, at the way he knew what was coming. You laughed at his expression. What did he think was going to happen after what he’s done? What did he think you were going to do finding them here? The evil smirk that possessed you reminded you of his, and you wondered if this is how panicked you looked, too, when you saw him approaching you and O'ì'en.

“You know, if you’re going to continue going against the Olo’eyktan and the Tsa’hik’s wishes and cheat on your mate, I wouldn’t do it… you know, right outside of her tent.” 

“WHAT?!” The high-pitched screech nearly deafened you, but you didn’t let it show. Instead you just watched as Neteyam scrambled to get himself out of the eye of the storm threatening to tear him apart.

“Tìlor, I -“ 

“Ah, your boyfriend didn’t tell you?” Your smile was sickeningly sweet as you approached the couple, stopping right next to Neteyam, placing a hand on his arm, tracing the protruding veins that made saliva pool in your mouth, and you bit back a laugh at the girl’s rabid look, that looked a lot like she was going to pounce on you at any given moment - you hoped she did. Nothing would make you happier than to have an excuse to rearrange her braids. This girl that always looked down on you, that looked at you like you were an outsider or a freak, that never even tried to mask her jealousy, her disdain, her fear at the fact the Sullys preferred you, and always will. 

“I will be your Tsa’hik soon. Isn’t that right… yawne?” 

“So unless you want me to go and tell the clan leaders… and your mother… and your father, and everyone who matters that you’ve been fucking someone else’s mate and watch as little by little, your entire world falls apart around you, I suggest you realise this man right here, he’s not worth it. Not worth all the drama, not worth all the fuss. Just go, and find yourself a single mate, and give thanks to Eywa she’s rid you of him, cause damn, I know I wish I could be.” 

The hatred in her eyes was slowly replaced with fear and embarrassment, and for a second, just a second - you felt bad for her. Because no matter how badly she’s treated you, how she’s adopted Neteyam’s behaviour as her own with no reason or rhyme, much like O'ì'en, she was also just another collateral victim in a war that kept claiming lives and hearts, and you wondered where, if at all, the line would be drawn, when, if ever, would enough be enough?

You watched as she scrambled to fasten her top around her neck properly and without another word, she was gone, leaving just you and Neteyam alone, with enough tension in the air around you to suffocate you, to feel like smoke from a fire so grand, you didn't know if weren’t skilled enough to put out.

'Cause I have yet to know how to be mine You can try to unearth this soul I swear you'll hate what you find

“Why?” 

“You’re making out with someone behind my tent, knowing that would piss me off, after what you did yesterday, and you have the nerve to ask me why?” you threw your head back and laughed at the outrageousness of the question. Neteyam wasn’t stupid - far from it. He was also not naive, or oblivious, or harebrained. The question had no business coming out of his mouth, but yet it did. You didn't have time to ponder the reasons why.

“You see, Neteyam, I think you came here because you knew I’d come. Because you secretly wanted me to. Because you know deep down that this girl has nothing to offer you, and you just needed an easy way out to rid yourself of her, and you needed me to do your dirty work for you again. Well, you’re welcome, Neteyam. What the fuck would you ever do without me, huh?”

“You’re such a fucking hypocrite. All the theatricals of being heartbroken over what I did to O'ì'en and then you do the exact same thing to someone else, someone innocent.”

“Innocent, ha! You think I give a shit about your little girlfriend’s feelings, when you treated O'ì'en the way you did? He didn’t deserve this, Neteyam. Any of this. He’s good man, he respects you, and looks up to you. He -“ 

“He should have known better than to associate himself with you.” His bared fangs didn’t do as much to scare you, not nearly as much as his proximity to you did, at the way his eyes stared daggers at your face, that even in the heat of the moment, at the peak of anger and hatred, couldn’t help settle on your parted, wet lips. “He should have known better and realise that all you bring in people’s life is disappointment and pain. He also should have known better and realise you didn’t love him. That you never will. That you might try to act like it and convince yourself, but someone like him would never, ever satisfy you.” 

“And who the fuck would satisfy me, Neteyam? You? That’s rich. I bet your poor little girlfriend’s happy she’s rid of you. Bet you haven’t made her cum once. Too busy thinking of training and ruining my life, too busy thinking about how great you think you are to make room for anyone else in there.” You poked him in the chest with your index finger, right over his heart. Your touch lingered on his body, somehow unable to bring yourself to stop, half in awe at the way his heart was racing, at the way yours beat almost in sync with his, at the way you tried to convince yourself it’s because of the anger you were feeling, and no other reason.

“Yeah? Is that what you think?” 

And there he was again, once more grabbing you by your throat, and you wanted to object, and fight him, but you didn’t - you couldn’t -, not as you felt throbbing deep within you at the action, not as you had to push your thighs together to accommodate for the increasingly uncomfortable sensation, not as your loincloth was becoming more and more damp by the second. And you remember your words, and remember that you told him that if he ever touched you again, you’ll make him pay for it, but right now, in this moment, you couldn’t find it in you to speak a word, as the intensity of his gaze knocked the air out of your lungs and his fingers squeezed just enough so no more could get back in you. Your back scratched painfully against a tree as he pushed you into it, and you couldn’t help a small moan as his other hand pushed your loincloth to the side, brushing over your folds that were now sopping and swollen. He let out a soft chuckle as he felt you.

“If that’s what you really thought, you wouldn’t be dripping on my fingers right now, tsxepvi.” 

Slowly, deliberately, he started exploring your heat, thumb ghosting over your clit as he watched you squirm under his touch, struggling between what you knew you should do, between your conscious mind telling you you were going to pay for this in tears and heartache, and your subconscious mind screaming to let go, to embrace the overbearing desire to give in to him, as you did in the dreams you convinced yourself in time were nightmares, but knew more and more each day that it was just another lie you told yourself to keep going. 

One side of you won by a landslide, as he gently pushed two fingers in you, as he started increasing the pressure with which he was massaging your clit, and it felt so good, too good, better than anything you’ve ever felt before. You tried to contain the sounds coming through gritted teeth with all your might, knowing what he was doing, knowing giving him any indication of the pleasure he was giving you would mean another thing you’d have to pay for later, knowing you couldn’t allow him to enjoy this, you couldn’t possibly give him the satisfaction of knowing he could do this to you, but you couldn’t stop, not when his fingers curled in you and found the spongy part that made you see glimmering, blinding lights and his thumb circled your needy bud in the perfect way to heighten the sensations running through you, electrifying your every nerve. The moans turn into mewls as he increases the pressure and his pace, and you felt the pleasure in you reach a high that you were ready to ride out, your orgasm so close you could practically taste it, and you’re barely able to think about how fucking quick it was, how it took no time at all for him to get you there, how skilled his fingers, as they worked his ministrations on you. You had no will to think about what the fuck was happening, how weird it was, how the man you’ve hated for so long is doing this to you, before the feeling got too overwhelming to be contained anymore.

“Fuck, i’m gonna -“ 

“That’s right, tsxepvi. I can feel you squeezing my fingers. You want to come for me?” 

“Argh, I-“ 

The moan you let you wasn’t of pleasure, it was of deep, throbbing pain as the emptiness overtook you, as soon as he removed his fingers.

He smirked, an evil smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, as his fingers found his lips and he sucked on them, his tongue swirling in between them, licking every single drop. 

“You taste fucking amazing, tsxepvi. Maybe next time, if you apologise and behave, you’ll actually get to cum.” 

And with that, he was gone, living you an empty, horrified mess, as the high came crashing down violently and the consequences of the last few minutes replaced it to lead you in a spiral of mixed thoughts and feelings, each one more terrifying than the last. 

'Cause I am lost, but not in you Yes, I am lost, but not in you

taglist: @fanboyluvr @theycallmesia @afro-hispwriter @soleilmoon @crazy4books1 @bakugouswaif@randxmthxughts @xreadersstuff @sirezaya @kimberlyshailany-blog @gyuventure @jujudsmyst @kikookii @nxptury @nonniesworld @koing-slvt @bakugouswaif @isnt-itstrange @tpwkforevermore @alahamums @tallulah477 @gknj9495@aquamarine001 @itssomeonereading @yumimak @sweetbread-m @eqgroil @im-in-a-pansexual-panik @juneonhoth @yagirlheree @jackiehollanderr @legendarynoodlebowl @iameatingmyhair @justasimps-blog

[techtalksfics]

Headcanons - Falling In Love

Headcanons – First Time They Realised They Loved You

Tech

How quickly would they realise they were in love? Boy, oh boy, would it take a while for this sweet, nerdy little cherub to notice he was in love with you. He’s so focused on work, and even when you help him and make sure he is okay, he doesn’t spend enough time thinking about his feelings for it really to register. So, it would take time.

What were you doing when he realised for the first time? You are definitely, definitely working on the ship when realises the feelings are strong. I can imagine Tech handing you a hydrospanner and watching you fingers work away when realises that his feelings are more than what we would define as a ‘crush’. Then one night, you’ll be sitting together at night on his bunk and you’ll be reading with a smile on your face and when he looks at you, simply tucking a strand of hair behind your ear and out of your face, his chest tightens and he realises, this is what love feels like.

Does he tell you right away or does he wait for you to say it first? Tech isn’t the type to stress over who says what first. His social cues are perhaps not the greatest (but yes, we very much love him for that). Perhaps one evening you’ll be alone together and simply enjoying the quiet in the cockpit when he’ll turn to you, softly whispering you name. He simply state “I have fallen very much in love with you.”

Hunter

How quickly would they realise they were in love? As a man in tune with his senses, he would be the fastest to come to terms with the idea of love. He knew you were different, that you meant more, from the day you’d met each other. You were the big sister Omega needed and he loved how much you protected her. He loved a lot of little things about you and over a short period of time, he realised he was in love with you.

What were you doing when he realised for the first time? Definitely playing around with Omega. She needed a break from Tech’s ‘classes’ on ship schematics and you were near a beach. A safe beach, unlike the last time. So you dragged Hunter along with you, telling him to lighten up just a little. “I know you know how to have fun really, Hunter,” you teased, as Omega got ready. He reluctantly came along but the moment he saw you and Omega splashing around in the crystal water and you had this goofy, carefree smile on your face as you waded through the water, he knew he had it bad.

Does he tell you right away or does he wait for you to say it first? Hunter is a cautious man but he also feels undeserving of the good things in life. He’s also, although he would never admit it, riddled with insecurities. He would wait for to say it first. He’d decided that long ago. But we all know, it wouldn’t take long for a carefree spirit to lean in to his shoulder one night and whisper, “I love you, Hunter.” He’d be surprised and search for something in your eyes and when he only saw love in those eyes he loved so much, he’d rest his forehead to yours and whisper a sweet “meshla, I love you too.”

Wrecker

How quickly would they realise they were in love? Wrecker is a man a great deal of emotion that he vocalises a lot and loudly. We would be the fastest to fall in love. He would feel an instant pounding in his chest when he saw you and was a complete and utter mess. All of the words in his head couldn’t seem to reach his mouth and he knew he had it bad immediately.

What were you doing when he realised for the first time? As we’ve established, he definitely believes in love at first sight and well, the first time he saw you, you’d just destroyed well over thirty droids with one explosive. He. Was. In. Love. You dusted off your cargo pants and walked towards his brothers and him, with a little smirk, you said, “Hello.” Wrecker did as Wrecker does, he let out his booming laugh and said “I LIKE HER.” In his head, he knew it was more than. In his head, that was enough for now.

Does he tell you right away or does he wait for you to say it first? If he falls for the rough, brawny type, then he would probably be the first to say it. Not that he minded but he was wracked his nerves in the build-up of telling you. He knew it felt fast and he was worried you didn’t feel the same way. Sure you’d kissed him, a couple of times, but he worried that a woman like you, as wonderful as you were, would fall for a man like him. He’d been pacing outside the Marauder and when you popped your head around the corner to ask him what was wrong, he loudly blurted, “I think I’m in love with you!” His blush was so deep but the smile that crept up to your cheeks meant he knew you loved him too.

Echo

How quickly would they realise they were in love? Echo is another man focused on his work. He was a reg before the Skako incident and sure he and his brothers would go to 79’s and flirt with the pretty girls. But that was before. In the aftermath, in his time with the Bad Batch, he barely had a moment to think about love. When you came along, he appreciated your help, your dedication to stopping the Empire, your drive to help the clones even though you weren’t one yourself. It was slow and gradual, but he certainly fell for you.

What were you doing when he realised for the first time? You were surrounded by clones. They were patting you on the back and hugging you. You’d risked life and limb to save them from the claws of the Empire. He stood in the background and simply watched, smiling without even noticing. When he felt that heat twisting his stomach in knots and his heart pounding in his chest, he realised he was in love with you.

Does he tell you right away or does he wait for you to say it first? The poor baby is more machine than man, and he knows it. There would be no way he’d confess he loved you first. You’d have to make that move and even you were slow about it. You both had a lot going on. But you’d been waiting for days for him to return from a mission, and you’d heard bad things had happened. You were panicked. So, when the shuttle landed and you saw his tired and grubby face, you flung your arms around his neck and let out a strangled sob. You placed your cheek against his and whispered into his ear, “I love you so much Echo. Please stop scaring me like that.”

Crosshair

How quickly would they realise they were in love? Crosshair is a… complicated man. He might be aware, fairly early on, that he was delving into something deeper than just sex with you. Even though you both reminded each other that it was just sex. He started missing you when you weren’t with him, he watched you when you walked past him in the bare hallways on Kamino and he worried for you when the Empire blasted it sky high. He wanted to look for you but, as well as know, the galaxy had other plans for him that day and for the next 32 rotations.

What were you doing when he realised for the first time? It was simply that distance had made the heart grown… well not fonder… but clearer. His heart grew clearer when he had been left on Kamino. When he thought he’d lost you, his heart ached for you. So when he saw you again, even in the same circumstances he always saw you, he was in love.

Does he tell you right away or does he wait for you to say it first? The man doesn’t get a chance to tell you, even though he wanted to. He was processing these new feelings when Kamino fell. When he saw you again, his entire chest was alight and he realised he couldn’t pretend anymore. He had to take that chance. So when he saw you again, later that very same day, he pulled you to the side and placed his hands either side of your head. Kriff, he wanted to kiss you so bad but as he leaned into you, he softly affirmed, “I care about you more than I realised. I… I love you, cyare.” You lifted your lips to his and you felt him melt against you.

[midnight-vixn]

Mammon doesn’t even mind that Lucifer ties him up. He’s been doing that for the past few millennia, it doesn’t even really bother him anymore. What bothers him is you sneaking out to get a glass of water at night in a sleeping shirt that barely covers your ass, bare feet tapping on the cold tiles of the dimly lit corridor. His eyes are pleading you to let him down and follow you as far as they can but you don’t even seem to notice him. His face is growing hotter with every inch the shirt is riding up your bare thighs as you walk past him, and his mouth gets even dryer around the cloth his brother used to shut him up. It’s frustrating, really. He hopes that no one else sees you like this, that Beel isn’t rummaging through the kitchen and that Levi doesn’t leave his room to get another bag of chips for his anime marathon. He’s your man and he should be the only one seeing you in your pajamas, right? If you can call skimpy thing pajamas. Are you even wearing pajama pants? Or maybe only your panties.. or…

He didn’t even notice you coming back from the kitchen, blatantly staring at the obvious tent in his pants.

Reine….REINE!!!! BB I held onto this for so long and I’m so sorry, this boy is everything to me and him being tied up is😵‍💫

Mammon x afab!reader

Cw: voyeurism, masturbation, basically a huge cock tease

You heard Mammon’s muffled cries for help, you always did, but this time you chose to ignore it. You typically were the one to find him strung up late at night, always rescuing him and never receiving punishment from Lucifer yourself; he was too soft on you for that.

During one of your last rescues though you noticed something. As your hands reached to untie the rope bound harshly against his wrists, you caught sight of the tent in his pants, you noticed the way his breathing seemed to quicken as you stood in front of him, how his face seemed to darken. Maybe that was just from the blood rushing to his face, but the bulge between his legs gave you an idea.

So, this time as you made your way to the kitchen for water and Mammon’s muffled groans and grunts called after you, you kept walking.

You took your sweet time before heading back out into the hall. When you made your way back to Mammon he was too busy trying to free himself to notice you standing there, the massive bulge in his pants catching your eye rather quickly. You lean back against the wall directly in front of him, your hands slowly roaming your body.

“Mammon.” You call his name in a sickeningly sweet voice, a borderline whine. His body freezes and head jolts towards you instantly, you can see his eyes go wide as your hands travel over your clothed skin. How fun to have a captive audience.

You reach for the bottom of your shirt and lift it just enough to give him a glimpse of the pretty gold thong you wear underneath, the sharp whine he lets out makes you bite your bottom lip. You turn around and lift your shirt to expose your ass to him, sticking it out and wiggling it just to taunt him. The cloth in his mouth muffles the moan that would otherwise echo down the hall.

You press your back against the wall again and spread your legs, pulling the bottom of your shirt up and holding it in your mouth. You run both your hands down your stomach and hook your thumbs into your panties, slowly pulling them off until they rest around your ankles. Another high pitched whine leaves the second born. Your left hand reaches down to spread your pussy open for him, you run a finger through your wet folds and rub tight circles on your clit, gasping and moaning as you tease yourself.

Your right hand comes up to play with your chest, squeezing at the soft flesh and flicking your nipples. You watch as the bulge in his pants turns to a full on erection, the outline of his cock painfully obvious. His eyes frantically scanning your body, whimpers and moans spilling from him behind his gag.

Your eyes flutter as you sink two fingers into your pussy, your back arching while you moan his name. He thrashes against his restraints, clearly overcome with jealousy of your fingers and wanting to fill you with his cock instead. You finger yourself at a rapid pace, the wet sound of your self pleasure filling the empty hall along with your moans.

“Fuck— oooooooh Mammon, hhaaaa, shit, yeah baby fuck me!” Through half lidded eyes you watch him fixate on your fingers as they thrust in and out of your dripping pussy. You lose yourself in the sensation, feeling your climax rushing toward you. “mammon, oh mammon, s-shit Mammon yes, HAAAAA MAMMON FUCK ME MAMMON YES!” You brace yourself against the wall as you cum around your fingers, Mammon moaning and writhing once more against the ropes that bind him.

You manage to catch your breath and walk over to the poor demon still hanging upside down. You rip the cloth gag off his mouth.

“Fuck treasure that’s not fair you can’t just do that when I ca—” The words fly from his mouth but stop when you shove your cum coated fingers in his mouth. He moans and sucks at your fingers like they’re his last meal.

“Let me untie you baby,” your free hand moves to start at the ropes, a devious smile on your lips. “Then I’ll tie you down to the bed, since you love being restrained so much.”

[astudyincontrasts]

Incubus Viktor ~ Part 2

Incubus Viktor x Fem!Reader NSFW

Art by @arcanescribbles my beloved angel

Well. It only took me an entire month of work BUT here you go, my sweetly patient darlings. A continuation of this fun little drabble. Thank you all for bearing with my slow progress and for all your lovely support🖤 Enormous thank you to @insult-2-injury for helping to battle my brain goblins. ilu bb

TW: no y/n, anxiety, new relationship dynamics, how to train your incubus, sex, smut, cockwarming, edging, overstim, body worship, multiple orgasms, anal/rimming, possessiveness, breeding kink(?), attempted assault, off screen implied death

The heavy iron skeleton keys rattled against the lock as you opened the door.  You’d become used to their weight, in your hand, in your pocket, clanking about in your bag.  And used to the home they belonged to… that you belonged to now, as surely as those rough edged, intricately cast metal monstrosities that let you into your front door.

The landlord had seemed surprised to find you still there when he returned, unexpectedly and unannounced, to check on the place two days after you’d moved in.  As shocked to see you standing there, dripping mop held like a weapon and eyes wide as your pulse hammered in your ears as you were to see him letting himself uninvited into your new home.  Convinced he’d been someone picking the elderly locks to break in and claim squatter’s rights or else rob you.  

He’d stayed shocked while you’d dissolved into irritation and held out your hand for the spare skeleton key he’d so conveniently chosen to keep for himself.  He surrendered it without a fight, to his small credit, and as you assured him that you were perfectly happy with your lease of the house and shut the door upon him, you weren’t sure which of you were more suspicious of the other.  You, wondering just how much the greasy oaf of an old man knew about the home he couldn’t seem to keep tenants in, or him, left to ponder over why or how you had made it through a single night there.

It had been several months now, and you still weren’t sure you could have honestly answered the question of why you had stayed, even to yourself.

“Moje sladká broskvička…”

The voice purred in your ear, no sooner than you had the door shut and the key turned in the lock on the inside.  Broskvička, broskvička, broskvička… That reverberating, gradual manifestation of a voice that licked straight through the shell of your ear to course along the wet ripples of brain matter in its forward and back soft echo that still made your eyes struggle with the urge to flutter shut and thighs clench.

As he’d grown stronger, as you’d fed him, Viktor had gained more control over himself.  No longer relegated to only appearing in the dead of night as he had been in the beginning, though he was certainly stronger, more whole after the sun had set.  Not fond of brilliant, bright sunshine, and somehow less during daylight hours; that insatiable, insensible pull of him not nearly as intoxicating as it was after dusk.  

Still, he seemed to like to be where you were, with you, daylight or no, and even when he wasn’t there beside you the house felt like an embrace, saturated with him and infatuated with you.

“You’re back.”  He breathed over your shoulder, and you felt his face press into the soft give of your hair as the climbing, curling grasp of long clawed hands materialized around you and slid up under the front of your shirt to gently rake fine pointed nails over the small swell of your stomach as the black mist shroud that always heralded him coiled and spilled around you like tendrils of living, liquid smoke whilst he himself took shape from them.

The bags in your hands dropped as the weight of him pinned you to the door, his head laid in the crook of your shoulder, the sticky smoke soft strands of his dark hair tickling your cheek and throat.  

These desperate, eager greetings had become common.  Dogs were less eager to see their masters after a long day.  Even though every evening you returned home from work, even though you’d never made a move to pack up your things, even though you spent most spare time fixing up and cleaning the old place, he still seemed to harbor a deep seated fear that perhaps each time you left the house that he was apparently bound to that you would not return.  He never voiced this concern, but you could feel it in these greetings, in the subtle way the strange amorphously solid conundrum of his body shivered ever so slightly as he pressed to you, in the tenderness of clawed hands as they slid over your own skin, reassuring himself you had returned to him.

It was intoxicating, if you were honest, to be this desired and missed so badly, to be yearned for.

Turning in your pinion between him and the door arms lifted, hands sliding over the ephemeral texture of his skin as he gathered you to himself with a deep, quiet purring noise of immaculate pleasure that trailed out at the end of each breath in eerie, soft clicks.  His kisses traced a map across your throat and jaw, to lick tenderly along the shape of your collarbone.  Soft little lines of tingling fire rose from your shoulder blades and down your ribs as clawed fingertips raked gently down the span of your back to press palms hard into the small of your back, arch you toward him.

At times you thought perhaps you’d learned some resistance to that thick, honeyed drug of his seduction, that you’d somehow managed to keep your bearings and sense better as the time had passed, only to be disabused of that notion time and time again when he truly dialed up that unspeakable, heady pull of his that turned bones and willpower both to warm jelly.  

No, it was Viktor who’d become better at his control, not you.  As if sensitive to the quiet terror that ran like a low current under your eager submission to his power, as if he could see swimming in the back of your lust-drunk eyes the fear of that lack of self control, and so tried to keep that thrumming, beguiling narcotic effect of his in check.  

He slipped at times though, too excited, too enthralled and eager and hungry for you.  

Not that your appetite for him ran any different.

Whatever he was, however dark and terrifying and arcane, you wanted him.  Craved him even without the influence of his seduction.  Beautiful and dangerous and achingly gentle in the quiet moments, he was a creature that had infested your desire as surely as he had infested the decrepit old Victorian house.  

He crooned wordlessly as your hands cradled up the angles of his face, pressing his forehead to your own with a sigh like it was the first time he’d been able to breathe since you’d left that morning.  It made your heart ache a little.

“Viktor…”  Voice gently chiding, ready to chase away his concern. 

The knock at the door to your back cut you off, and quick as he had materialized, Viktor vanished, dark smoke dissipating into thin air, leaving behind a scent of petrichor and extinguished candles.  

Spinning in surprise to gaze through the ancient leaded decorative glass panes of the door’s large window at the figure distorted behind them, you turned the key you hadn’t yet had a chance to take from the lock, and pulled the door open an inch.  A toothily smiling masculine face greeted you, a good foot and half taller than yourself, and you felt the hair on the back of your neck rise to stand on end as thick fingers curled around the edge of your open door a few inches from your own face.

“Hullo, lovie.  Name’s Barrett.”

“Hi.”  Reply dry, cold and verging on impatience.  The kind of tone you reserved specifically for overconfident door-to-door salesmen.  Barrett seemed to take no notice.

“I been lookin for work in the neighborhood and heard a rumor this old place had been let again.  I’m a bit o’ a handyman ya see.  Specialty is roofing.”  Dark eyes cast upward toward the inside of your obviously sagging porch roof before searching around the slice of room he could see through the barely cracked open door above your head.  “I figured as I’d come introduce myself quick as I could, offer my services.”

You did not like how those dark eyes ticked up and down and over you with the same greedy calculation as they had the room behind you.  Nor the way his smile spread like an oil slick across the uncomfortably unkempt looking five o'clock shadow of his face.  Unable to tell if the dark smudges staining skin beneath the stubble were dirt or faded old scars under his olive complexion.

“Old place like this… sure it could use a lil tender care, hm?”  

Did he just fucking wink at you?

“As you said, this place is leased.  Any major repairs are the owner’s responsibility.  Do go see him if it's employment you want.”  Polite but firm, the only hint of rudeness in your inability to unclench your jaw.

He tutted and pushed at the door without exerting much effort at all and you were alarmed to find he easily slid you back a few inches across your carefully polished and restored glossy wooden floorboards.  

“Sure you’re right.  Silly of me, hm?  I jus’ heard this place was occupied again an’ got excited.  You don’t mind if I come in, take a look around an’ take stock of what might need doin’ so I can work up an estimate for the landlord, do ya sweetheart?”

Heels dug in as you shoved your shoulder against the door and tried to force the inexorable slow opening of it back closed against his strength.

“Yes I do mind!  S-stop!”

He was laughing softly at your frantic effort, like your sudden jolt of hot fear was the silliest, funniest thing in the world, and weren’t your struggles precious?

Neither of you expected the way the door suddenly jerked and slammed shut on his fingers like it had a mind of its own.

Barrett was howling, scrambling on the other side of the door to yank his mashed fingers free, and there was a horrifying moment when all you could do was stand there and stare at those digits turning a sickly hot purple and angry red and think for sure you were about to see them fall severed onto your doormat.  

No idea who was more relieved, you or him, when the door eased a fraction and he was able to wrench fingers free before it slammed shut in earnest and the key turned in the lock all on its own.

Only, you knew it was not on its own.  Barrett stood on the porch, cursing and grunting and hissing breath through his gapped teeth as you stared at the distorted blob of him through the textured glass, stared at the smudge of blood where his fingers had grasped the door, and mustered your voice once more.

“No thank you!  …And no soliciting!”  

The sound of him spitting some kind of hateful slur like ‘bitch’ at the door was the only response, paired a short second later with the heavy sound of his footfalls thundering across the porch and down the front steps.  Another moment of staring at the door before you bent to grab your groceries off the floor and headed for the kitchen, shaken but alright.

Viktor found you there once more, hands trembling as you tried to simply focus on putting the groceries away.  You felt him coalesce, felt him lingering close without touching, felt his confusion at the emotion rolling off you in unhappy waves.  Cheeks hot, your face burning and you couldn’t say why, why you should feel so embarrassed or upset.

“You’re angry?”

Viktor’s question came softly behind your left ear, had you grit teeth as you struggled to even out your breathing.

“No, Viktor.” Your answer took the form of a tired sigh as you closed a cabinet door a little too hard and leaned heavily upon the countertop on the heels of your palms.  At least that stopped them shaking.

One hook nailed fingertip drew a lock of hair back behind your ear, the sharp of it tracing lightly along the curving, delicate shell of its shape.

“He scared you.” His rejoinder was defensive, sulky, “He meant to hurt you.”

Hurt you hurt you hurt you.  You shook off the subtle draw of his voice with a small shiver, eyes closing and brows knitting tightly as you fought the urge to forget your anxiety and seek out his mouth instead.

“Mmnnh.  You…you don’t know that.”  You pressed back, quietly petulant, turning your face away as you clung to the anger of the entire interaction.  Of the stranger who felt comfortable enough to try to let himself into your home and the spectre who felt beholden to enact a violence on your behalf that had left your stomach turning.

The vision of those purpling fingertips and the shrieking of the man behind the door would not stop haunting you.

“Yes, I do.”

Goosebumps lifted along your skin in tandem to that chilling, insistent confession of his and the soft dragging stroke of the pads of his fingers along the shape of your jaw. 

“Please just, stop.  I don’t… I don’t need protecting.”  Railing against the pull of him, you slammed a hand down hard on the countertop, letting the sting of the slap center you, “I can take care of myself!”

There was a soft little hissing, incomprehensible sound that might have been a muffled word in that language of his you did not understand, and his touch dissipated.  

Viktor was gone by the time you managed to force eyes back open and turn around sharply.  Left you wondering not for the first time exactly how that mind of his worked, how he worked.  Left you both regretful to have chased him off with your angry chill and grateful to be left to sort through your thoughts rationally without the clouding influence of his presence.

By later that night however, when he had not reappeared, you had begun to feel worse about your little tantrum.  Viktor was not at fault for how the stranger had made you feel both vulnerable and angry all at once.  He’d only done what he could to try to help. 

Finishing your glass of wine, you rose and dressed, and went downstairs.  

Only after getting a crackling fire going in the ornate, large fireplace and settling back against the old tufted jacquard couch did you draw a deep breath and lift your chin and watch the shifting, flickering shadows play about the room.  Long and sad, stretching thin along the walls in ever changing shapes that did not exactly correspond to the furniture or items that might have cast them.  Watched them lick over the floor, darken the corners and cling to the ceiling.

“Viktor?”

The shadows shifted, drew back.  The air in the room stirring, brushing back against your skin like the house itself had drawn a breath into unseen lungs.

“Viktor… please?”  

The shadows seemed to suck back behind you, gathering together, portent to the dark spill of slow unwinding coils of heavy smoke that pooled and poured over the back of the couch before those impossibly long, necrosed dark claws came tack tack tacking over the wooden spine of the old couch and creeping slowly over your shoulder, up to curl over the column of your throat as the tip of his nose brushed the soft of your cheek opposite.  

“Forgive…?”

Forgive forgive forgive. It suckled at the back of your brain, made you arch hard against the stiff back of the couch and let your neck roll over the cold decorative wooden spine of its upper edge as his mouth pressed to your temple, your hairline.  As that thick cloying, molasses sweet darkness made your mouth feel full and heavy, turned a simple exhalation into a low, lingering moan.

“Forgive me, little peach… forgive me please…?”

“Vik…hhmmn… Viktor.”

Hands sought his, tugging carefully as you forced yourself back from the edge of submission, straightened your spine as you sat up, reeling back from that delicious abyss of want as you stood unsteadily and turned to face him.

“I want you,” It came out panting, struggling to finish that thought, “To sit.”

No way to describe how he moved from stooping over behind the couch to sitting upon it, as if he passed directly through it or just… shifted, mind-bending in how he moved without moving, leaving those tendrils of dissolving darkness behind to be seated upon the couch where you had just been, the gleaming irises of hotly golden illuminated eyes cast dejectedly into his own lap under those heavy dark brows, the cupids bow of his mouth parted but downturnt as he sat, arms open along the high armrest and back of the couch, long legs sprawled indolently even in his unhappiness.

Your handsome devil could make the world spin with his sly smirk but oh, the way his pout could turn you inside out.  It was unfair, that such a creature should look so vulnerable, so beholden and chastised and dispirited and yet so enticing.  Unfair that you should have made him feel this way.

Hands fumbled in their tug at the hem of your modest nightgown and those shining eyes of his lifted from their downcast to watch you tug that long gown up and over your head, his dark brows rising as you tossed it aside to stand before him in nothing save the deeply plunging lace bodysuit you’d hidden beneath.

It was a dark merlot colored confection that bared your entire back and nearly as much of your front, barely a set of sheer, high cut panties with twin slashes of matching lace attached in the center of the front that rose in a vee to cover each breast and only met again where they looped behind your neck.  Hands smoothed over your own hips as you stood watching his eyes widen.

Your turn to be the one smiling slyly as you closed the space between you to climb into the spread of his lap and straddle one lean thigh, watching his mouth open soundlessly as he ricocheted from his dejection to delighted surprise, as the radiance of golden eyes raked up the shape of you in undiluted desire, his dark clawed hands hovering, as if afraid to touch and be chastised once more, but unable to deny the bitter, fighting longing to have the warmth of your skin under his palms once more.

You let him suffer his uncertainty as you shaped hands to the beautiful angles of his face, stroking the sharp of cheekbones, the sculptor’s perfection of a jawline.  

“There’s nothing to forgive.”

Skin that soft strange play of cold and heat as you pressed a kiss to the very center of his dark brows where they’d pinched together over the bridge of his nose.

“I’m sorry, I was just scared and upset.”  

Another brush of a kiss to the pretty little beauty mark under an amber eye before you straightened and let your weight settle more fully upon his thigh.  Releasing a soft sigh as the delicious pressure of his leg became friction with a roll of your hips.

Hands slid to rest upon his shoulders as you rocked yourself in your seat upon his leg, watching him eye you with that insatiable hunger building steadily upon those beautiful, angular features as he lifted his thigh, pressed into the roll of your hips encouragingly. 

“Such things I would do for you, milovaná,”  That echoing, softly pitched voice of his sounded so longing as he watched you lean closer, for once the one slightly taller than him in your seat, forcing him to tilt the sharp of his chin up, “Precious to me.”

As if still trying to explain himself and his violence.  Tongue made a little tutting sound against the roof of your mouth as you shushed him, leaned forward to lip a grazing little kiss to his upper lip.  Precious to him.  Protective of you.  It fizzed beneath your heart, warmed in your veins and joined that delicious, growing weight of the ache for him in the pit of you. Who in your life had ever treasured you so?  And you’d been so callous as to scold him for it.

Determined now to make it up to him, to show him that dark place he’d made a home in your heart, to let him taste how deep your devotions ran.  Sample your affection and make a feast of apology.

Slow, so slow, the sharp and careful drag of nails and fingertips came at last, down either side of your spine, ghosting over the curve of hips only to play back up the edges of the lace that barely covered the shape of your bottom, catching and toying, threatening to snag.  Coy tease, lighting little ticklish licks of electric fire under skin, prickling into the softness of your flesh, urging the roll of hips forward as you rode his thigh unhurriedly.

“You… you are precious to me too.”  You managed to sigh out, the marvelous friction of dampening lace against your sex making cohesive thought as slippery as his thigh was quickly becoming.  It had him croon delight; both the words and the way you shuddered as the first hint of a lazy flutter teased behind your navel.

Half lidded eyes watched that curious expression of his soften into the slicking spread of a sharp toothed fox-sly smile as deviously delighted in your admission as a devil could be.  Was he devil?  Demonic?  A terribly gentle harbinger if that was the case.

The gleaming brilliance of eyes slanted closed as your fingertips stroked his throat, as you bent close to kiss the tiny dark mole just above the edge of his mouth, and then to lick at one of the strange, small markings carved darkly into his skin.  Claws closed upon the spread of your thighs straddling his own as that warm rumbling, eerie clicking purr of his kicked up once more while your mouth strayed along his throat, down across his collarbone. 

For as much as he delighted in unraveling you, it was those small moments when you could return his affections, show him softness and offer caress that seemed to undo him the greatest.  Made you feel heady with power any time his head rocked back, or his grip upon his mischievous composure slipped.  He was scrabbling, clawing for it now, struggling as you sucked soft, deep purple marks across his skin while your hand slipped down between his lean thighs and the ghosting, dark fog he often ‘clothed’ himself with dissipated at your touch.

Always hard for you, always eager and ready waiting.  

Viktor’s chest was stuttering, heaving shallow quick breaths as you slid forward, thumbed aside the gusset of lingerie and straddled him in earnest, hooking ankles back over the tops of his thighs with the bend of your legs.  All the better leverage as you pressed the thick, dark length of his cock to the part of your pussy.  Let him savor that heat he so desired as you bobbed, slicking your wet along him in slow grinding lifts.

“...Beloved,”  His voice, the words seemed to coalesce out of the air itself, drawn from somewhere far more distant than the lean column of his throat.  The fire at your back guttered then roared, flames fed on more than the coals beneath them.  Instead of more reassurances or sweet pleading, the terrible dark beauty of his mouth was left hanging open while the gleam of eyes shuttered behind taut closed lids.  

About time he was the one struggling with his words instead of you.  The power of it was delicious, had you lifting to settle over top of him, to let him press to your entrance invitingly.  Let him feel how you dripped for him, savor that heat, so close…

Hands clenched upon your hips, their long fingered grasp nearly enough to span and touch at the small of your back, thumbs pressing a slow, circular caress, urging, trying to ease you down upon him.  Ah but you were determined, wanted him ravenous, wanted to push that envelope as far as possible and see what it bought you.  It was in your nature, you were coming to realize; that insatiable dance toward dangers you could not fathom.  The girl who wanted the haunted house, the girl who stayed.  The girl madly infatuated with the monster in the shadows under her bed.

“Mmn, impatient…”  You panted, breath sticky in your throat, filling lungs like water as instead you lifted from over him and sat back once more, hands smoothing along the lean ripple of his stomach, catching a grip at narrow hips and then sliding inward.  “Don’t I get to…mmnh… don’t I get to please you?”   

“Moje malá broskvička, you always please m… ahhn!”

That seductive tenor of his voice dropped off sharply as your hands curled grip around the thick girth of his cock.  Stiff and heavy in your hands, the same otherworldly deep ashen blue and bruised purple as the rest of him, deepening to that inky black at its smooth head.  Fingers licked over it, tightening grip as he twitched in your hands and you stroked slow, let one thumb trace the throbbing ridged rise of thick vein that ran from base nearly to tip, watched him slyly as bright eyes slanted open and his dark head lifted.  

Toying at the sensitive give of frenulum, you watched his hips rock, rise under you.  Watched that dark smooth, thick bell curve head positively drool pearlescent, sticky drips of precum.

That desiccated third arm of his unfolded from behind him to rise up, grasp at the back of the couch hard enough you could hear the wood of it groan and the jacquard puncture under sharp claws.  As he had grown stronger the spectre of that strange additional limb had weakened, faded away, until now it only made itself known in the heights of his hunger or depths of his depravity.  

It was nearly violent, how suddenly Viktor canted forward, and you so eager to meet his mouth with yours it became more collision than kiss.  He was hot against your mouth, eager in your hands.  So easy to lose yourself in him, in how the taste of him filled your mouth, made it water for more, made your tongue burn with a soft fire and the back of your throat thicken.  

It was a struggle to draw out the tease, to take your time as you toyed with him, drunk on the air around him, lost in that heavy, cloying lust that thickened blood in your veins and made each motion a slow struggle.  You smiled sleepily down at him as you rose to take a straddle of him for the second time that night.

This time, however, you let him in.

Painfully sweet, that delicious slow stretch.  Your moans soft things under the echoing deep of his long groan as you worked yourself unhurriedly down upon the straining heat of the curve of his cock, the slow gripping, slick clench of inner walls easing inch by inch to give the thick of him quarter.  Oh, so full, so deep when at last you were seated completely, hips just barely rolling a fraction every so often as you railed against the clenching, burning, insistent need to feel him move within, to ride him until your legs gave out and mind broke.  Free of every little care save the hot spill of him inside you, wiping away the world and leaving just his embrace.  Not yet, not yet.

Under you lean hips lifted, fought the obvious urge to fuck up into you with the straining impatience that you move, already.  But still you sat, smiling near drunkenly as you squeezed around him, gasping at the hard little twitch you could feel within that inner grasp, gazing into the narrowed fire of golden eyes before you, reveling in how you could feel his ache, his need singing in the silence strung between you, ready to snap as easily as a strand of saliva caught between mouths after a kiss.

The entrancing shape of Viktor’s mouth curled at one edge as the dawning realization of what you were doing seemed to break over him and he channeled all that hot desire to hammer up into you instead into pitching forward once more to press his face to the bare slash of your sternum.

Arms folded around his head and shoulders in a loose embrace, cheek coming to rest upon the strange soft of his dark hair as you held him, felt him mumble sweetly against your flesh as his own arms finally enfolded you fully, clawed hands shaped dark wings to the planes of your bare shoulder blades.  So delicious, to just sit there, full of him, surrounded by him, warm want seeping through veins and skin, soft fire burning flush under cheeks and hot up throat and scalp as you luxuriated in the lapping, licking waves of the building tide of lust rising with every second you refused to stir to motion.  Just holding him within and relishing that intense, unspeakable feeling of completion he always offered so eagerly.  

It was a sensation that had haunted your waking hours and sleep alike, had you eager to race home at the end of each day, frequently distracted you from your work.  How wanting him infiltrated every innocent thought any more, every quiet moment.  Had you squirming in your chair at work, pressing thighs together and struggling to keep the small of your back from arching at the sweet, intrusive fantasy of him under you, in you, of just sitting upon him, struggling to focus on what you needed to do as he whispered adoring filth in your ear.

No way to tell him, to find the courage to give voice to those dirty little thoughts… but you could show him.

Viktor’s head tilted and you loosened arms to allow him to gaze up along you, the sharp of his chin still pressed to your sternum and eyes shyly half-lidded as if seeking approval, agreement.  It had you smile once more, that so terrifying a creature could be so deeply infatuated with you as to seem wound around your little finger.  It was a heady rush, a sweet spice to the illicit thrill of allowing this unearthly monster between your thighs; to let him into your very heart.

And how could you not, with how softly his mouth closed over your own as you tugged him up to catch a lingering kiss from him?  With that electric tingling deliciousness of his tongue and its seductive late summer taste of tart crisp apple and bloody, earthy sage, of dripping honeycomb and the briny bite of salt tears.  

You kissed him slow and deep, savoring, taking all the time in the world, fingers ghosting along the sharp, long line of his jaw until his arms began to loosen and long fingered hands strayed down along ribs toward the nearly bare curve of your bottom while his tongue painted a wandering, lingering wet lick down the offering of your throat.  

You meant to make him stop, but devoid of the distraction of your mouth under his own he went licking at the dark, wine colored lace of that lingerie, tonguing slowly over the pressing peak of one nipple through the thin fabric before nosing the teasing slash of lace aside to close lips over the sensitive sweet bud.  

Slow, slow suckle and release, over and over until you were shivering, aching, dragging your own nails down the nape of his elegant neck as the tip of that impossible tongue of his wrapped and spiraled round the singing burn of your flushed nipple, tickling and teasing its stiffness as you moaned long and shudderingly low for him, warmth blossoming, spilling within in slow rivulets.

“W-wait…wait…”

“Wait?  Why wait, delicious one?”  He murmured, releasing you from his mouth with an obscenely wet little pop that had the depths of your belly clench, had the hot throbbing at your core tighten around him invitingly.  He was already headed to uncover the neglected hard nubbed and eager little twin to your hotly colored and glistening wet nipple.

One dark hand slid down between you both, thumb seeking the spread of your sex, unerringly brushing featherlight tease along the swollen ache of your clit, a ghosting caress that had your entire body convulse hard in a gasping little mewl.  Calling your bluff, raising the stakes. 

“You make me wait.  Wait years for you, and now wait all day.  Make me worried, so cruel.  Little tease.”

Delightful to hear him growl softly at being so denied, no heat in the lovely reverberating, eerie echoing noise of it, only determined frustration and seeping want.

“Wait,”  You still insisted breathlessly, writhing over him as his hips dipped only to grind the hard hot length of him up into you, threatening to undo you, threatening to loose that slipping hold he had on his own straining yearning.  

Hands pressed to his chest as you struggled to stay still, struggled against the way hips disobeyed you with each new, barely there pass of his thumb grazing your clit.  Met resistance as he struggled against that base urge, that all consuming drive, until at last you could feel the shift of him once more mastering that ravenous hunger, feel him give and let you push him back, push him down to sink indolently back in his seat upon the couch.

Gleaming amber eyes gazed up at you tormentingly as that thumb of his began a taut little circle that had you sinking teeth into the plush of your own lower lip, stifling and strangling the breathless whines building up in the back of your throat as you shivered in his lap.  His laughter a hissed sibilance, dark and rich as chocolate, soft as satin, licking into your ears as you fought and lost the battle against that first delectable orgasm, head thrown back as the tether snapped and you came undone over him, clenching rush wringing tight at your belly, deep in your core and coursing outward in one pummeling tidal crush of wonderful heat.

“Ahh…there, little peach…”  He soothed as he rocked hips beneath the burning complaint of your tensed thighs and bent knees, offering you just a little taste of what you might have if only you’d move for him, give in to the growing urge to ride him to your own destruction.  “Isn’t that better?  Ah, moje milovaná how you drip for me.  Give up, delicious one.  I always win your games…”

One hard little buck of his hips drove him up into you as if to make his point for him, leaving you gasping, air whistling soundlessly out of the open oh of your mouth as you clung both to him and the shredding, unraveling rope of your willpower.

Games, yes.  You liked playing little games with him, didn’t you?  His teasing rocked you backward into a memory of months ago, when you’d been struggling with much needed work to the house and he’d been insistently nipping at your heels, tormenting you with little touches and whispers, pulling you distractingly from the task at hand until you’d given up in an amused huff.

“You want to play, hm?”  You’d asked to the empty air, not nearly so bold as you managed to sound, fighting how badly you’d wanted to just strip off paint stained and dust covered work clothes and let him settle between your thighs right there on the dropcloth covered floor.

A stirring in shadows of one dark corner caught your attention as it spilled and spread, gathered and rose to a crouched inky shape undefined save for the features of his face illuminated by the twin lanterns of those brilliant eyes.

Your devil looked stunned, momentarily shocked before those sharp teeth all bared in a gleaming, lopsided curl of a smirk as he came shifting forward, lean shoulders and sharp shoulder blades hunched like a large cat as claws dug into the floor, audibly prickling the fabric of messy dropcloths strewn about.  Coiled to spring.

Your own smile spread, grew sprawling until you let out a shriek and turned to sprint off into the house.

There was no sound of footfalls behind you, no huffing breath to match your own as you had skidded through the halls.  No quarter to hide here, no place he could not find you, there was only flight and the silent chase from the shadows you could feel stretching out toward you, reaching ephemeral fingers, grasping in your wake.

He got you first in the dining room, massive old unused space bare save for the ancestral table that stretched the length of it.  He caught you from behind the door, surging forward in a dark rush of smoke and shade, had you pitching backward onto the table as that pretty face of his shoved hungrily between your thighs, breath cool over the fabric of the pants you wore, the slow dragging swirl of his tongue luxuriating over the denim hiding velvet softness of an inner thigh from his taste and up, inward to lap at the crux of thighs as if even through pants he could taste sodden cotton barely covering glossed lips.  You arched in spite of yourself as he pushed the full force of his face hard between your legs.

Only when he paused to moan quietly at the scent of you did you find your moment, shimmied backward over the table to drop off the other side and forced weak-kneed legs to work, to keep up that chase.

Peels of your laughter echoed through the dark halls as you fled, his own deeper in its wake, that otherworldly back and forth reverberation impossible to source, everywhere and nowhere all at once.

Up the taut spiral of stairs you went, through the upstairs rooms only to have him catch you as you tried to escape back downstairs via another winding stairwell, shooting out of the dark to press you face first to the wall as he ground into you, weight pinning you to the wallpaper as he slid a hand between you and the wainscoting to slip fingers down within the waistband of pants, stroking, petting, caressing as you rolled against him, panting.  The pinch of his teeth catching at the curve of your shoulder.

“Don’t run, little peach.”  He was whispering against your skin, teasing clit through cotton in a way that had you bucking, fruitlessly fighting that delectable pull of how well he’d come to know you, how well he could get you.  Teasing tight little circles and metronome rubs against sodden panties and in another minute the coiling, tensing, building weight behind your navel was at the tipping point.

“Ah, ahn, ahhhn…Viktor…”

“Nowhere I can’t find you, milovaná.  Say I win, let me feast.”  Mouth against your ear, teeth tugging soft at the tender shell.  Eyes fought to roll back in your head, but you managed to somehow squeeze out from between him and the wall to nearly tumble down the stairs and spill out into the kitchen.

The door to the basement stood dark and silent against the far wall, and without a second thought you fled for it.

“No!”

Suddenly Viktor was before you in less time than it took to blink, barring the door, back to it and arms spread.  Handsome features no longer twisted in delight at your new game, but rather stark in deadly seriousness and… terror?

“Viktor,”  It had thrown you, pitched you straight into scolding, as if he were a child, “It’s just a basement.”

You’d been down there before, with the landlord, on the day you agreed to the lease.  Nothing bad down there, just dust and piles of old junk from previous owners.  Nothing to warrant a reaction like this.  Especially from a creature so fearless, so impervious as your sweet devil.

Still, he caught your wrist as you reached insistently for the doorknob, grasp tight around fine bones as he shook his head in mute pleading, the brilliance of eyes widening further.

“No!”

His fear, because that had to be what it was -fear- softened you.  And while you tucked that dangerous spike of curiosity away for another time, you could not deny that it was there.  One more little mystery about him, one more secret he wouldn’t or couldn’t speak.

“Okay, it’s okay…” The course of your stopped hand in his grip turned, lifted, rose to cup the hollow of one bruise-blue cheek as you lifted on tiptoes to brush the soothing invitation of a kiss to his lips.

“Promise.”

Promise promise promise.  It pulled insistently at you, had you rock backward, down onto bare heels as you struggled against the tug of its tide, nodding soundlessly, unaware you were moving, being drawn along by him until you felt the rumbling hum of pleasure emanating from his chest under the splay of your hands.  Felt the sweet burn of legs bent too long ease with your rocking.

Viktor’s hand had strayed up, caught a tender grasp of your throat and jaw as your hips had begun to roll, to offer him and you both a bare fraction of sweet movement.  One gentle hook clawed fingertip traced tenderly over the give of the edge of your mouth and soft of your cheek with his grasp.  His other stayed firm in its grip of your upper thigh, thumb picking up its encouraging little rubs again to your now hypersensitive and slicked little clit.

“Do you give up, little peach?”  He was murmuring invitingly, the tone of that slithering, seductive voice insidiously knowing, well aware you’d already teetered across your tipping point.  His thumb pressing his point as the tickle of his nail dragged slow across that hot little bundle of nerves, making you tense and struggle not to writhe, struggle to swallow a pleading little whimper of a noise you knew he could feel beneath the palm he had cupped to the column of your throat.

All the answer he required.

Hands fell away, and then the delicious stretched feeling of him within you was gone, as gone as the body beneath your straddle was.  Only to have arms enfold you from behind, to be lifted, moved, weightless until you felt the warmth of the fireplace licking at your face, felt the soft itch of the ancient oriental carpet beneath your bare skin.  On your stomach and no recollection of how you got there, Viktor caged over you, on his knees, dark head dipping as his face came pushing, shoved into the bare expanse of skin between the space of shoulder blades.

One elegantly long clawed hand caged the nape of your neck, kept you pinned as your own arms folded up alongside your head where Viktor kept you shoved to the floor, fingers digging into the old fibres of the carpet as he lavished you, mouth making a slow map of bare skin, lifting goosebumps as lips grazed, teeth pinched tenderly, as the sweet damp of his tongue tasted and toyed along the hollow trench of your spine.

This was worship, this was holy.  Here in the dark, flickering flames lighting orange, dancing behind closed eyelids as you succumbed, welcomed that tender monster to make a meal of you any way he wished.  Managing to get knees under you one by one, you pressed hips up, pushed the invitation of backside up against the beast caging you in, and felt the desiccated dry grip of that third arm come grabbing, gripping tightly at the plush curve of your bottom.

Slowly, unhurriedly, your lovely devil made his way down the expanse of your back, the grip of his hand leaving the nape of your neck as both hands instead took a grasp of the backs of your thighs taut enough to dent and dimple the yielding give of tender, generous flesh.  That terrifying third hand slid from its own grip, dry scrape of nails raising little lines of hot fire where they scraped across skin.  It caught the lace that barely covered the cleft of your bottom, grabbed hold and dragged the scant remaining protection of it aside, leaving you fully bare to the humid wash of Viktor’s breath.

Hips pressed up mindlessly, your train of thought long gone off the rails as you sank into the delicious release of inhibition, worry or shame, enveloped in the intoxicant of your sweet devil and unconscious to all save the cloyingly sweet sensations of his caress.

You could have luxuriated in it forever, floated lost within it…  right up until his hands slid upward, shaped to the pretty curve of your ass, thumbs pressed to the crease where thighs and bottom met, and prised cheeks apart.  The sudden wash of vulnerability had your stomach flip, had your lungs sucking a sharp breath as you felt the sinking grip of his teeth mark the inner, tender curve of one cheek, heard him murmur delight at the soft squeak it earned him.

Oh but then, then came that endless, dragging tease of his tongue.  Warm and soft as it traced down that exposed cleft, rolling and slowly roiling in its wet warmth as it passed and pressed against the puckered give of your asshole.  It had you gasp, had every line of you tense and shiver as he licked, toyed against that tautness.

“Would you give me this, little one?”  He teased in obvious eagerness, either oblivious to your mortification or else delighting in it, “Let me have every inch of you, every sweet part?”  

Heat flooded cheeks to rival that rolling off the licking flames of the fireplace you lay before, and protest died small deaths on your lips, mumbled into nothings as his tongue pressed, licked and pushed at you.

This was not a liberty you’d ever offered anyone, and not one of your former partners had ever even asked.  It had your jaw clenching, teeth whining in their crush and grit together as he strayed lower, slicked along and slowly licked across your entrance to gather the dripping wet left behind from the first release he’d so sweetly offered you.  Ah but that relief did not last long, not with how he strayed back up, redolent with your own heat and lubrication, to slowly, slowly slide that tongue of his within the gradual, easing give of your ass.

“Don- don’t… ah!!”

Foreign, filthy, incredibly vulnerable and above all intensely arousing, you squirmed on your knees before him.  Panting, gasping each time he withdrew only to press in further, you were dying by inches, aching below where his attentions had focused, clenching hungrily around nothing as his tongue pressed more and more deeply into you.  Electrifying and confusing, it had you keening quietly with each coiling slow, slippery thrust. 

You wanted to demure, wanted to beg him to stop, to not… but oh.  

Hot wet curling, licking pressure deep within had you moaning soft encouragement instead, had you digging fingernails into the carpet and pressing back against him.  Debased and uncaring, drunk on him, for him.  Begging him to do whatever he wished, however he wished, as you felt your tightness open, yield and give to the thick glistening push of his tongue.

Beneath you rough carpet teased ticklishly at the sensitive, achingly proud points of stiff nipples, the scant lace of that bodysuit long since gone awry to leave both breasts mashed bare to the floor as you writhed and rocked face down on your knees, positively oozing down your thighs for him as he ignored the eager enticement of your hungry sex in favor of tormenting you in this mortifying, gloriously debauched new way.   

Horror and delight mingled until you could not untangle one from the other, until you were pleading his name, practically shouting it between stuttered, strangled moans.  But he would not stop, not until bones had nearly gone to water and you were scrabbling at the carpet beneath you, hovering interminably on the verge of cumming around nothing at all.  Until it would have taken just a breath of his blown over the throbbing want of your clit to send you over, or even the merciful press of a single finger within you to give you something, anything else to end this wonderful, mind-melting agony.

Only then did you feel him withdraw, and let your entire body go limp, bottom still ignominiously in the air, huffing breath and groaning softly at denial of your own release.

Not for long.

Arms came gathering, lifting.  Easing you onto your side.  Head found a pillow against the bend of his arm as Viktor curled himself along the back of you.  Warmth at your back as inviting as the heat from the fireplace was at your front, rolling licking flames washing in soft lapping waves as you melted back against Viktor with a begging little hum.  

No need.  

Gathered close, he nuzzled into the spill of your hair, pressed his mouth to the ticklish little nook behind one ear.  Over hip and thigh his free hand came stroking a soothing little caress before gripping, raising your top leg, prickling of claws under the crook of your bent knee.  

Just enough to give him space to slot himself home once again.

There had been many times, since that first night, when he’d taken you so hard you felt sure he’d break you in half.  When he’d left you so fucked out and wonderfully bruised in his hungry and enthusiastic hedonism that even standing the following day was a sweetly painful reminder of just how thoroughly he’d made you his own.  You craved it, if you were being honest, reveled in the times he lost all control and the whole world dialed down to the raw need you each felt.  No art or grace in it, nothing but a mindless drive to be as deeply, viciously connected as two desperate creatures could get.

This, however, was not one of those times.

No, this was slow, the way he pressed and slid teasingly between your thighs, cock slicking along wet folds as you could feel your entrance clench with each slow thrusting pass that failed to fill you, that slid right by.  That cruelly adoring monster nuzzling kisses to the rising curve of your shoulder not satisfied until your hips were rocking, bucking, trying anything to have him inside you once more.

Only after you’d practically come to tears with denial did that terrible, beautiful creature of yours finally relent, pressing, easing at the throb of your entrance.  No words for that delicious, hard ridged way the head of his cock spread you as he sank into you unhurriedly, had eyes rolling back in your head as you tensed outward like a strung bow from crown to the small of your back.  Lids shut tight, blotting out all the world save for him, the heat of him spreading, filling, finally.

“Are we done playing, beloved…?”

That silken, beguiling echo came slipping into your ear in all its undoing glory, ruining consciousness, leaving nothing but sodden, heavy want in its wake.  His third hand slid over your side, cupped up the softness of a breast as you shuddered at the horrifying sandpaper and twig feel of clawed finger and thumb pinching one tender nipple, prickling at singing skin with a twisting little tease that thrilled through you in peals of painful pleasure.

“Yes…yes!”  You choked on it, near drooling, tears leaking from the tight clench of shut eyes to run hotly over the bridge of nose and drip onto the pillow made of his folded arm.  

Tender, slow.  Utterly unhurried in how he took you, hips rolling with a small snap at each end as you wormed and pressed to him, letting you suffer sweetly for your sins as he fucked you slow as he liked, reveling in your undoing as the stringing bliss of each slow built orgasm came one by one by one.  Until you were little more than a shivering mess, core trembling and hands gone to weak shaking as he fucked you lovingly through each little ruination, letting you milk at him with each frantic little release, giving you no rest as he rocked into you, kept you keening softly to accompaniment with the deliciously obscene wet sound of your coupling.

Enthralling, every time, the way he felt both too much and not enough all at once.  How he turned you into a base and greedy little thing, like beneath it all you were just that yearning, just your hunger and desire and nothing else.  Distilled down to his.  

The focus of each lewd, unraveling little thought; the way he dragged against you within, the way he pressed almost painfully at the zenith of every thrust against cervix, how the deafening pulse of your own blood in your ears sang his name, ran hot and thick in a soft choral thrumming just for him.  

Yours, your own.  Your making and undoing.  The dark stain of your soul and shadowed hollows of every chamber of your heart.

Your beautiful, exquisite horror.

One hand had lifted, reached back to grab a fistfull of his hair, had him laughing softly as he suckled and bit at the red flushed curve of your ear.  It felt like hours, like ages, before he finally shoved his face hard into the hollow of throat and shoulder, until he succumbed, growling softly punctuated with quiet clicking, eerie delight as hips lost their gentle rhythm, became almost slovenly frantic in their last few thrusts before he buried himself deep in one final hard drive.  

Impossible to ever become used to that sensation; to the unspeakable lush heat of his release spilling out as it overfilled you, at the sweet little swell within and tautly obscene stretch you could literally feel.  To the elation, the searing fire of the commingled slurry of yearning and satisfaction that quadrupled as he came within you, the way it kindled every last ounce of you, inundating and overwhelming, wiping away everything save that writhing, wringing, blinding ecstasy that spun out slow deaths in trailing, pinwheeling sparks coursing out the length of limbs, simmering to nothingness at the tips of clenched fingers and curled toes.

He was speaking, but you could not make out the words, drowning as you were, slipping into the dark, warm waters as oblivion folded around you, the incomprehensible tenor of his voice trailing after you into the welcoming maw of unconsciousness.

No idea what time it was when wakefulness found you again. 

The confusion of disorientation reached you first.  No fire, no rough old carpet or hard floor under your skin.  The sensation of warm, soft sheets and the give of mattress, the scent of your own pillow under your cheek flooded in slowly.  Your own bed.  Freed of the tickle of lace or constriction of lingerie, skin bare and smoothly clean, save for a slight lingering stickiness between the sweet throb of gently swollen, used folds.

The darkness of the bedroom was absolute, the silence heavy.  At your back was a soundless rumble, and the lovely circle of long limbs tangled around you had you smile sleepily as you sank back into relaxation, fingertips tracing over the open sprawled palm of one elegant hand, up along forearm in a caress that had Viktor stirring at your back, unfitting himself until you could roll onto your back and he could settle over you, the weight of him pinning you gently to the mattress.  Head tilted back into the pillow to allow the lazy trail of kisses down the offering of your throat.

The delicious warmth of blankets left you as Viktor reared up, soft glow of golden eyes opening in the dark as he began to sink back down, between the spread of thighs that opened for him in silent invitation.

Somewhere down below in the dark of the house came the soft tinkling of shattering glass.  

Viktor was caged back over you in a heartbeat, before you’d even half registered the noise from the depths of the house below you.  The torpor of sleep fled sharply as his clawed grip scooped under you possessively, as the air in the bedroom grew thick, chill and viscerally rife with brittle rage.

“Viktor?”  Sleep-thick voice strained a whisper.

“Sssshh.”  The hushing noise escaped him, not soothing nor calming, but like the escape of steam between sharp teeth.  “Stay here.  Hide.”

“What?!”  Heart hammered hard against the cage of ribs as your hands tightened their grip upon his shoulders, fear sharpening the edge of confusion to a knifepoint. 

“Do not leave this room.”  The hateful focus of brilliant eyes upon the closed door of the room shifted, dragged attention back to the bewilderment of your features.  Felt the backs of his fingers graze your cheeks before hands took a firm hold.  

“Listen to me, sweet one.  Stay.  Hide… Now.”

And the next instant he was gone.

You could hear heavy footfalls on the stairs, and an unfamiliar familiar voice calling, too muffled to distinguish individual words.  Still, it struck you to action, obeying the simple directions Viktor had left you with.  No closets, no room in the large bureau either.  No time to make it to the bathroom and nowhere in there to really hide either.  Up off the bed, dragging the comforter along, you wrapped up in it and dove beneath the bed to tuck up in a huddle, pressed shivering to one corner near the wall, praying to be mistaken for a pile of discarded bedclothes should the owner of that voice make his way into the room.

“Lovie…?  Where you at little lovie?”  That voice, clearer now in the hallway, coming closer.  “Come on out, sweetheart.  I just wanna talk.  Really did a number on the ol’ hand earlier.  Think you could make it up to me?  Ya know a man works with his hands…how am I s’posed to…”

Even under the suffocating swaddling of the comforter the sudden, oppressive darkness flooded in, black upon black, blotting out any semblance of light and squeezing air from lungs like the slow wringing twist of a wet cloth.

Out in the hall the footsteps had stopped.

“What… what the fu-”

There was a scrabbling, a scrambling, a sound of frantic, blind fear followed by the deafening rush of wind and wings and a thousand gaping, gasping maws sucking all remnants of air left behind, starving sharp teeth clacking in a cacophony ivory chorus.

And then the screaming began.

Once, when you were little, you’d seen a rabbit chased by a cat.  You’d watched the brown streak of it with the orange tabby hot on its tail, and a second later when they were out of sight you’d heard the shrill scream of the rabbit.  The terrified pitch of it ear-splitting in its intensity with a primal, gripping panic that verged on the most intrinsic of fear made audible.  

Not since that unfortunate rabbit had you witnessed a sound so alarming, so horrified; the noise of a creature come face to face with its death and begging that it were not so.  

No matter how tightly you shoved the soft thickness of the comforter to your ears, no matter how hard your hands pressed the cotton batting fabric of it over either side of your head, nothing could blot out that revolting, blood chilling sound. 

Time ground to a halt.  It was still ringing in your ears, still as shattering and sickening as when it started.  Was it coming from you, or around you?  Where did you begin and the sound end?  And huddled, shivering, horrified in your dark little bundle of blankets, jammed as far up under the bed as you could get, you waited, shoulder and hip bone and elbows aching against the press of the hard floor.

A hand closed on your ankle, grip tight, and pulled.

Only then did the spell break, did you realize the sounds had stopped as your own terrified shriek burst from your throat.  Hands scabbling hot panic as you were dragged from beneath the bed.

“Malá broskvička, sshhh… shhh…”

No one there but Viktor, crouched long limbed beside the bed, unwrapping you hurriedly from the bundle of blankets, cradling you up, hands soothing, calming, cupping your face, drawing you in, smoothing tenderly along arms and back, cradling the nape of your neck as you pitched forward into his arms, clinging tightly, trying to quell the shaking of your own limbs with how tight you gripped him.  Heart a jackhammer in your chest, like that terrified rabbit of memory had got caught beneath your ribs and was frantically trying to kick itself free.

“Viktor!  What…what happened, what was that?!”

He would not answer for a long time, simply gathering you to him, cooing wordlessly or else in that language you did not understand.  Smoothing your hair, kissing and thumbing away hot tracks of tears you hadn’t even realized you’d shed.  Until the pair of you lay upon the floor, in the crumpled mess of comforter and your panic had subsided into a bone-tired exhaustion and the knotted fear in your stomach faded to a vague nausea, until the tension had eased to a dull ache behind your eyes.

“Viktor?”  You pressed again, cuddled close, fingertips trembling in little aftershocks as you touched his chin, traced the shape of his mouth.  Whatever had happened had pulled the curtains from the windows, left them hanging in tattered shreds so that the silver moonlight streamed in, offering a thin, blue cast illumination to the shape of the beautiful horror cradled up against you.

“He meant to hurt you.”  He murmured.  “I told you.”

Told you told you told you.  Blood drained from your face as you watched a sad little smile turn one edge of Viktor’s mouth under your fingers.  Tried to shove aside and silence the thoughts that flooded in of what might have happened, had you been alone, truly alone in that great house.

“I will never let anyone harm you, my sweet one.”

The words were darkly reassuring, dripping horrifying promise as he turned his face from under your touch to press a kiss cool as the first frost to your forehead.  One clawed hand slid from its gentle grip of your hip to span the slight swell of your lower stomach and your frantic heart stopped dead in your chest, world pitching violently on its axis at his next words.

“...Either of you.”

[campingwiththecharmings]

Congratulations bb again, so happy to see all your wonderful fics !!

*slams my fists on table*

I WANT POE. Specifically your poe.

+ “you can be louder” or some variation of that 🫢🥹🩷🩷

Ily so excited to read all these

Undone

AN: Thanks so much for sending this in, Mona. I appreciate you and your friendship so much 💖 Hope this is at least close to what you wanted lol 🤭

(Un-beta’d)

Rated: M+ (this is smut so, i mean, you’ve been warned?) Words: 675 Pairing: Poe Dameron x F!Reader Warnings: PWP, p in v, cursing, slight praise kink, creampie, a little cockwarming. AO3

——————

You whine as Poe fucks into you slowly, groaning as you clench around him, his face buried in your neck. He kisses his way down to your shoulder, sucking bruises into your skin, his hips pushing into you steadily as he drags you closer and closer to the edge. Your fingers sink into his curls, pulling on the strands as he dips his head lower, messily mouthing his way down your chest.  

 “C’mon, baby, let me hear you,” he rasps, sucking your nipple between his lips. 

You moan softly, arching into his mouth, your fingers twisting in his hair. “Fuck. Poe, please.” 

“Mmmm,” he hums, grazing your nipple with his teeth and drawing a low hiss from you. “Please what?” 

You whine as he pulls off of you with a wet pop, dragging his wet lips across your sternum to your other breast. He keeps pushing into you, his thrusts slow, but deep, and when his tip kisses your cervix, you gasp, shaking a little at the jolts of pleasure that zing through you. 

“More,” you plead, pulling your lip between your teeth. “Harder.” 

He groans, the vibration against your nipple making your pussy flutter around his length. When he pushes back into you this time, he snaps his hips forward, spearing his cock into you, the slap of his skin against yours echoing deliciously throughout the room. You moan when he does it again, his hands gripping the meat of your thighs as he pulls you closer, his breath hot against your sweat-slicked skin. 

“Faster,” you whine, clinging to him, your fingers digging into his shoulders. “Please.” 

Poe grunts, mouthing his way back up your neck as he increases his pace, worrying another mark into your skin. You’re so close, the tension building in your gut with every thrust of his hips. He presses his forehead against yours, panting against your lips as he palms your breast again, rolling your nipple between his calloused fingers. 

You moan softly, breath catching as he shifts slightly, changing the angle of his thrusts. 

“You can be louder than that, sweetheart, I know you can,” he breathes, his nose bumping against yours as he pulls back a little to watch your face.  

You watch him too, his eyes heavy-lidded, curls sticking to his sweaty forehead, plump lip pulled between his teeth as his cock glides along your slick walls, dragging over every sweet spot. He changes the angle again, his cock hitting the sweetest spot inside you, that spot so deep you can never quite reach it on your own, that spot that makes you see stars and endlessly babble his name. You cry out, mouth falling open as you arch off the bed, the pleasure so good but also so much. 

“Oh, fuck,” he groans, leaning in to mouth at your cheek as he hits that spot again and again, his thrusts hard and fast as he fucks you into the mattress. “That’s it, that’s my girl.” 

You’re babbling now, eyes rolling back in your head as you beg him to let you come. He grunts, his thrusts becoming uneven as he nears his own peak. You come around him with a shout when he circles your clit, his name falling from your lips like a prayer as he follows not long after, spilling his warmth into you with a loud groan. His hips slow, but he doesn’t stop, fucking his spend deeper inside you, the excess seeping out onto the sheets beneath you as the aftershocks of your orgasm ripple through you. 

The sensation of Poe’s hand against your cheek brings you back as you come down, your eyes meeting his in the dim light of the room as he finally stills above you. You lean into his touch with a sigh and he smiles, tracing the apple of your cheek with his thumb. 

“Still with me?” he asks softly, gaze flitting attentively over your face.

“Always,” you hum, smiling sleepily as you pull his mouth back down to yours, his cock still nestled inside you.

If you enjoyed this, please let me know! I appreciate every single reblog and/or comment. Thank you. 💖

🌟 Masterlist 🌟 fic-aversary masterlist 🌟

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[huntingingoodwill]

waterloo! (t.s.)

masterlist

send in requests for my 1.3k sleepover 💕

requested by: @notyour-valentine (tysm bb!)

pairing: 1970s! au tommy shelby x reader

“Hurry! It’s about to start!” You whined, impatient. 

You stood outside your front door, watching Tommy take his time rummaging through his pockets to fish out the keys. 

“ABBA!” You exclaimed, perfectly in sync with the host. 

“ABBA!” You exclaimed, perfectly in sync with the host. 

“ABBA!” You exclaimed, perfectly in sync with the host. 

The cameras cut toward the band and you cheered, squealing as the opening riff of Waterloo kicked into life, the lively twang blaring through the room as you turned up the volume. The music exploded from each slam of the piano keys, and you watched excitedly as the singers appeared on screen, glittering in their costumes as they lifted the microphones to their lips. 

You hummed along, nodding your head to the beat. Tommy slowly made his way into the room, having swung his suit jacket over his shoulder, his tie hanging loosely around his neck. He watched you, happily nodding your head to the music, splayed out on the ground in your best dress. 

“This is what you made us leave early for?” He chuckled, a little incredulous as you nodded your head, eyes not breaking away from the screen for a second. “I don’t get why you like this band so much.” 

Your eyebrows furrowed. “What’s not to love?”  

“Their outfits for one.”  He remarked, voice dripping with derision. 

You squinted at the screen, the sequins of their jumpsuits glittering even through the grainy footage. 

“I quite like the outfits. You could do with a pair of those.” Your nail clinked against the glass as you pointed at Björn’s boots as he teetered on them, the towering platforms making his svelte body rise into the air like a skyscraper. 

“Not my style.” He muttered, the soft click of his lighter sounding out behind you as he settled into the couch, the smell of tobacco filling the air as he took his first puff. 

“I still think you ought to try it, people might actually listen to you once you’re taller.” You teased. He leaned down, swatting you affectionately on the leg. “Well, there’s more to them than the outfits. I quite like this song in particular.” 

“Why’s that?” 

You tossed a coy smile over your shoulder. “It reminds me of us.”

“Really?” 

You rolled over, getting up on your feet again. Your hips swayed to the rhythm as you held your hands out to Tommy. He took hold of them, allowing you to pull him up from the couch. You wrapped your arms around his neck, bobbing from side to side, getting him to dance with you. He did so, a little begrudgingly, but soon, his steps fell into the rhythm of the music, an amused smile dancing across his lips. 

“Listen to the lyrics, darling.” You smiled, plucking the cigarette from his lips and taking a puff for yourself. “When I met you, I was convinced I wouldn’t cave into you.” 

“In what sense?” He replied. 

“Well, I knew I was done for the moment I saw you, but I wouldn’t let myself fall in love with you. That, and I wouldn’t let your Blinders take over my territory.”  

“Sorry about that. Had I known a girl as lovely as you was the leader of one of my rival gangs I would have taken a kinder approach.” He chuckled, extending his arm and twirling you away from him, pulling you back in once more as the two of you stepped across the room. “But I was persistent.”  

“You nearly shot me.” You laughed. 

He shrugged. “Persistent. I was persistent after that too, sending you flowers everyday.” 

“My office reeked of roses for three months.” You shot back, voice shaky with laughter. 

“But I won you over, eventually.” He smiled, proud of himself, even now. “The territories… well, they’ve been 50/50 ever since our wedding day, so I consider that a win.” 

“Oh, you won.” You conceded as he spun you around once more, making you feel giddy with joy. “You certainly defeated me.” You grinned, echoing the lyrics as the two of you turned to gaze at the TV, swaying from side to side. 

“Promise to love you, forevermore!” You sang along with a cheesy dramaticness, holding your balled fist to your lips like you were performing with all your might into a microphone. 

You held the invisible mic to his lips, watching as he rolled his eyes, silent as the girls on TV sang on. 

“C’mon.” You laughed, nudging him. 

“Knowing my fate is to be with you.” He muttered bashfully. 

You cheered, pulling him close. 

From that day on, whenever Waterloo came on, no matter time nor place, the two of you would dance. It was an odd choice, to everyone around you, your intimidating statures melting away at the first opening keys of the bright, cheery song. But how could you resist? It was your song, after all.

[fluffyprettykitty]

Hi love!

Congratz on 1800K followers! It's so awesome and I'm very excited for you!

Sorry that it's quite late and thank you for still accepting my request, no rush at all.

May I request,

WandaNat x Reader going on a museum date please? Maybe like Louvre museum or Smithsonian museum. (Those are two museums I really want to go someday.) For the AU, maybe modern AU, WandaNat are rich older women and they really spoil Reader. 😁 thank you!

Cheerio!

pairing: Natasha Romanoff x female reader x Wanda Maximoff

word count: 300 words

warnings: swearing

summary: Visiting a museum with your two girlfriends.

a/n: thank you so much bb for this ask, thank you for always being my friend, ily for all of your love and support!

Main Masterlist ・❥・

Natasha Romanoff Masterlist ・❥・ Wanda Maximoff Masterlist

"God, this museum is endless. We have been walking for hours.

"Definitely more than two."

"Relax, it's only been thirty minutes."

"Baby is getting tired, look at her, nat."

You frown your eyebrows together slightly pouting.

"You know. That's how people build them with enough room to look at the paintings and statues and placards and everything else while everyone has their own space."

"So maybe we shouldn't have booked the whole gala for just us three."

"Or gotten us some roller skaters."

"Nah, we absolutely should. If not us then who?" Natasha shrugs and winks at you. "Now, let's go to the next section, you guys have been staring at nothing for so long."

"Hey!" Wanda retorts feigning annoyance. "We have been looking at art."

"That's not real art though. Real art if over here." Natasha points guiding you both to an vast room adorned with a couple of beautiful marble statues.

Both yours and Wanda's mouths open in shock at the marvelously surrounding your eyes.

"That's where the fun begins. After that there is a whole miniscule replica of old town houses and families including their utilities."

"You studied the fucking museum before we came." Wanda looks at the red haired woman with a stern expression.

"Oh, not only that. I also came here last week just to make sure I would enjoy all the art in the quietness of the crowd."

"Are you calling us uncultured?" It was your turn to act shocked joining Wanda as Natasha just walked further down the room.

"No you do that all by yourself." She shrugs again heading out of a door and you both burst out in giggles, the sound echoing against the room.

Oh, you wouldn't have your life any other way but by the side of your two lovers.

for updates please follow @fluffyprettykittylibrary

[zoeykallus]

TBB x Gender-neutral Reader (Extended) HCs – Lost Something? Part 2/3/4/5

(Echo/Wrecker/Tech/Crosshair)

Warnings: Partly Slightly Suggestive/Mostly Fluff/Tiny Bit Angsty

This is the continuation of this request:

Reader stole the batcher's weapon. Let's see how they get it back.

Ko-Fi (If you feel like giving me some coffee)

Echo

Echo runs through the Marauders like a startled chicken, followed by the confused looks of his team. "Has anyone seen my blaster?" Hunter, who is putting on his gloves, looks over at him. "You lost your blaster?" Echo sighs annoyed and says, "No I haven't" Wrecker says with a raised eyebrow, "But you can't find it" "Yeah" Tech shrugs his shoulders without looking up from his holopad and says, "Sounds to me like you lost it" Echo waves it off in annoyance and insists, "No I haven't. I never lose parts of my equipment" It annoys him that he doesn't know where his blaster is, he was sure he'd left it with the rest of his gear when he went to bed that night and he says so. Crosshair leans out of his bunk, rolling a toothpick from one corner of his mouth to the other before saying. "You didn't go to bed alone last night I take it"

Echo's ears turn red. He pauses briefly in his movement, then turns to the Sniper. "What makes you think that?" Crosshair smirks, takes the toothpick out of his mouth and says, "You were alone on the Marauder for most of the night, I assume you took advantage of that fact." Wrecker asked excitedly, "Ooooh, Echo has a lover? Instead of answering, Echo rushes out of the room, locks himself in the cockpit and immediately starts a holo-call. His heart is pounding in his throat as your face appears on the holo, not just because he's upset and excited, the sight of you alone is enough to raise his pulse. "Took you long enough," you say with a cheeky smile. "You've got my blaster" It's not a question, it's a statement. Inwardly, he's annoyed that Crosshair thought of it before him. You lift the blaster into the holo for him to see. Echo lets out a deep sigh, relieved, a little annoyed. "I need it back," he says sternly.

You smile unperturbed and say, "I thought so. Then come and get it" "But-" You hang up before he can finish the sentence. A little stunned, Echo stares at the spot where the holo with your face used to be. When Echo comes out of the cockpit, he literally stomps through the main room towards the ramp. Hunter asks him cautiously, "Where are you going?" "Spanking someone's ass," Echo growls. "Kinky." Echo's eyes spark as he snaps, "Shut Up, Crosshair" The Sniper leans back in his bunk, unimpressed, chuckling softly.

You've been out all day, had some things to do. Echo didn't try to call again. But as you land your shuttle at the usual landing spot and open your ramp, you hear his footsteps on the ramp and in the ship before you even leave the cockpit.

He stops in the doorway to the cockpit, his gaze so serious and stony that at first you can't help but gulp. After a few seconds, you find your voice again. "Have you been waiting on the landing pad all day?" "Yes" The answer is very curt, a little abrupt. He stretches out his remaining hand, challenging you with a steely gaze. You feel yourself shrinking under his gaze as you pull out the blaster and place it in his hand. Echo holsters the weapon directly, still staring at you. "I should spank your behind" You say cheekily, "Okay. Do you want me to take my clothes off first?" Echo raises a brow in confusion, but he doesn't stop you from unbuttoning your flight suit. "Somehow I imagined it would be different," he says, a little beside himself. "Disappointed? Should I stop?" Echo licks his lips and shakes his head.

"Uh, no it's okay, we'll see where this takes us" You laugh softly, kiss his heated cheek and say, "Well, I was hoping to my bunk"

Wrecker

It's a beautiful evening. The weather is warm, but not too hot. The dinner was delicious, and the atmosphere great. A perfect moment to pass the time with Wrecker. The nice thing about Wrecker is that he's up for any kind of nonsense and is anything but a party pooper. You've been fooling around for a while now. You've managed to take his blaster out of its holster and to get it back, Wrecker has been chasing you around the massive dining table on one of the terraces on Pabuu for a few minutes now. The others have long since left the scene, some laughing or grinning, others (Crosshair) rolling their eyes. You giggle happily and change direction every time he tries to trick you. A little out of breath, you tell him, "I won't make it that easy for you!" Wrecker lets out a cheerful laugh that almost sounds like thunder. "I'll get you one way or another, just wait and see" As he changes direction again, you do the same, squealing happily.

"We'll see about that," you answer cheekily. You have to hand it to Wrecker, as impatient as he sometimes is, when it comes to fun and games, he usually has the patience of an angel. You've been running around for so long, your lungs are starting to burn, your faces are flushed with exertion, but you both grin happily when your eyes meet. But then something happens that you don't expect. With a cheerful exclamation, Wrecker grabs the massive table and throws it behind him, removing the barrier between the two of you. He suddenly stands very close to you and grins down at you. You look up at him, still holding his blaster. "Told you I'd get you," he says, amused. "What the hell.... what happened to my table?" You both look to the side, startled, to where an exasperated Phee crosses her slender arms in front of her chest. "Uh," Wrecker begins, "We were just fooling around a bit."

Phee rolls her eyes and asks, "And you had to destroy my table to do that? Who's going to replace it for me?" A sigh is heard from the other direction, followed shortly by Hunter's unmistakable voice. "Wrecker. Care to explain that to me?" The giant shrugs his shoulders and says with a sweeping gesture, "We were fooling around and then things went off the rails" "So nothing new," Hunter sighs, "Do me a favor and go fool around somewhere you can't destroy anything" You look at Wrecker and ask, "Beach?" Wrecker grins broadly at you. "Beach!" he confirms, nodding and running after you. Phee and Hunter look after you both. The squad leader sighs again, whereupon Phee says amusedly, "Those two will be your downfall one day" Hunter laughs softly, "I know"

Tech

Tech is obsessively rummaging through his things in his bunk. "That's not possible..." Crosshair has been watching his brother in silence for a while now, but finally asks, "Did you lose something?" Tech grinds his teeth before answering, "My blasters are gone" Crosshair frowns. "Both of them?" "Both of them," Tech confirms, vigorously adjusting his goggles. "You're a slob, I wouldn't find anything in this mess either," the Sniper grumbles dryly. Tech takes a deep breath, straightens up and looks at his brother seriously. "I'm not a slob," he replies critically "Yes you are, you're a total slob, you hardly ever put anything away. Your bunk looks like a garbage dump" Tech touches his forehead as if he has a headache, then raises his finger in the air and says, "I don't need order to find my way around. I don't have to obsessively tidy everything like you do, no matter how messy my stuff and my bunk are, I always know exactly where my stuff is" Crosshair smirks and teases, "Then you certainly know where your blasters are"

Tech's ears turn red, he turns away and rummages around in his bunk for a while, sighing again and again in frustration. "Didn't you have a visitor yesterday?" Crosshair asks meaningfully. Tech turns back to him. "Yes, I did have a visitor. And?" Crosshair shrugs his shoulders suggestively. "If the blasters are suddenly gone, maybe someone took them." Tech frowns. "No, that can't be. They wouldn't do that. Why would they do that?" Crosshair shrugs again, leans back in his bunk and says, "How should I know? It's not my love interest." With a bright red head, Tech leaves the Marauder to make his way to you.

You are looking out of your window when you see him walking across the courtyard. He seems to be deep in thought and keeps shaking his head. You smile, apparently he has noticed that his blasters are missing. Shortly afterwards, you hear your doorbell ring. Tech keeps his finger on the bell for longer than necessary, a very energetic ring. You press the door opener without using the intercom. When he arrives at your apartment, he has already raised his finger. "How many times do I have to tell you not to just press the door opener? You have to make sure who's at the door, it's dangerous!" You say calmly, "I saw you at the window. But it's sweet that you're worried about me" Tech sighs softly, straightens his shoulders and straightens up a little. "I'd like my blasters back" "That's what I thought. But I want something in return" Tech frowns and asks, "So you stole my blasters to extort something from me?"

Now you frown, "Well, when you put it like that, it sounds so crude and unromantic" His eyebrows move upwards in surprise. He asks confused, "Stealing my blasters was a romantic gesture?" You laugh softly and say as warmth rises in your cheeks, "I was going to ask for some of those sweet kisses you gave me yesterday in exchange" The corners of Tech's mouth twitch, his ears turn red, and he nervously shuffles his foot on the floor. "I only gave you one kiss yesterday. That was our first kiss," he corrects. When he thinks about it, his pulse starts to race again, his heart beats wildly and his body is suddenly filled with this incredible lightness again. "That's right. But now I want more," you say, biting your lower lip. Tech, steps closer and says, "A kiss for every blaster?" "Two per blaster," you say hastily, your ears already glowing hot and your puls racing through you. Tech smirks. "Okay, I think we can do that"

Crosshair

"No" "But-" "No," the Sniper repeats seriously, "This is not a weapon for beginners. You'll learn with the training rifle first and when I think you're ready, I might let you shoot with the Firepuncher" You sigh and roll your eyes. He has just turned his back to you and is putting the training gun away, but still he says, "Stop rolling your eyes. You're learning from me because I'm the professional, so trust my judgment too" "You're stupid," you say, pouting. Crosshair chuckles softly, turns to you and asks, "Then why do you keep coming here to train with me?" You point at his gun and say, "Because I want to shoot that thing someday" His eyebrows move upwards, and he asks, "So you only come here for the Firepuncher?" You shrug your shoulders and say cheekily, "Mostly" "You're a bad liar," Crosshair says, amused. You laugh and ask, "Why? What do you think I came here for?" Crosshair spreads his arms and strikes a pose. "To use my brother's words - isn't it obvious?..."

"You think I'm here for you?" you ask with a grin, "Well, maybe a little, but I think the Firepuncher is hotter" Crosshair laughs and continues packing. "Can't say I blame you" You watch him pack up the gear, then you hear his brother call out to him from the shuttle. "Excuse me a moment," Crosshair says, and disappears up the ramp inside. Your eyes fall on the case with the Firepuncher. You can't help yourself, you can't resist. You open the case, grab the gun and close the case again. You know he'll be angry, but the temptation is just too powerful.

When Crosshair comes out again and sees that you've already left, he sighs softly. He likes your visits, likes talking to you. Whenever you part ways, he feels a certain longing to have you with him for longer. He comforts himself with the thought that you will come back, if only because of the Firpuncher. He smiles and reaches for his weapon case, but his smile freezes. The case is clearly too light. He hastily puts the case back down and opens it. Empty. "You lousy little..." With a growl, the Sniper sets off. He already suspects where you might be.

The rifle is heavier than you expected, just aiming it properly is a challenge. "Maybe I should lie down," you mutter quietly to yourself. "And pull your pants down while you're at it, so I can spank your ass!" Crosshair's smoky voice startles you so much that you hastily turn around with an already embarrassingly high-pitched yelp and drop the gun on the grass. You stumble backwards as he comes towards you and almost fall, but the Sniper grabs the collar of your jacket just in time to hold you steady. "Not only are you stealing my gun, now you're dropping it!" "Not on purpose!" you say hurriedly and adjust your jacket as he lets go of you with a snort. His serious eyes bore into yours, and you don't even dare to blink for a long moment. Cautiously, you ask him, "How upset are you?" Crosshair crosses his arms in front of his chest and sighs heavily. "Very, to say the least." You smile wryly and say, "But you stopped me from falling down, so you don't hate me too much" He rolls his eyes, unknots his arms and picks up the Firepuncher from the grass. "Lie down," he grumbles. "What?" you ask, perplexed.

Impatiently, he snaps his fingers repeatedly and grumbles, "Do you want to learn something or not?" You hastily lie down on your stomach in the grass, Crosshair lies down next to you, presses the rifle into your hands and shows you how to use it properly. "How did you actually find me?" you want to know. Crosshair snorts softly and says almost gently, "This is where we practiced for the first time." "You remember that?" He rolls his eyes and says, "I never forget anything" You take a few practice shots and it goes well. Satisfied, you turn your head in his direction and smile. His expression doesn't say much, but he says, "Not bad for an amateur" As you look at him a little longer, studying the lines on his face, unable to help but admire his face, Crosshair suddenly snaps, "Stop staring at me like a love-struck dove, look at your target" As you hurriedly look forward again, your ears getting hot, a smile twitches at the corners of his mouth. He likes you too, very much so, but he won't tell you anytime soon.

Ko-Fi (If you feel like giving me some coffee)

@rintheemolion

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[exquisiteserotonin]

Precious Possessions, Chapter 3

Here we are folks, the final (maybe?) installment of Precious Possessions. I might be a little biased, but this might be the hottest chapter yet.

Series Summary: Defense intelligence conferences are always the same informative but also always boring. You didn't expect anything different for this one, but an unexpected meeting with a man named Dave York, changes the trajectory of your conference experience and maybe even more.

Previous | Next

Pairing: Dave York X F!Reader

Word Count: 4.3K

Rating & Warnings: HEAVY E! (This one is definitely absolutely not for minors, MDNI!!! 18+ ONLY) This fic contains, but are not limited to the following, dom!Dave, semi-sub reader, spanking, bondage, overstimulation, PiV sex, creampie, oral (f! and m! receiving)dirty, dirty talk.

A/N: Not beta'd, very little use of y/n. I really really enjoyed writing this. I hope you love reading it! Thank you to my magical sluts for all the encouragement <3 Love you bbs. @legendary-pink-dot @imalrightllama @sparklefarts38 @blueheat1-blog @best-little-secret @redhotkitchen @basicoccult

Yes there is a playlist could listen to while reading this.

York Times Playlist

Chapter 3: Disclosure 

Keeping your hands off each other was a battle that neither of you were keen on winning,  knowing the pleasure that would be in store once you made it upstairs to your room or his, you didn’t care which. With discretion still at the front of your brain as you suggested to Dave that you walk in first to avoid suspicion and accusatory glances. The lobby still buzzed with some conference attendees coming and going to enjoy evening revelries outside the conference hotel. A handful of others still flitted around the bar drunkenly networking and schmoozing.

You found your way to a quiet spot, tucked away from the lobby. Still drunk with the memory of his fingers inside you, the knot inside you tightened in anticipation of him and how your pussy would feel after he sunk every inch of himself into you. The sound of footsteps echoed to your ears, and you turned expecting to see Dave standing before you. Instead, you found Brad, face red and splotchy with drunkenness. He leaned over at the wall over you, the smell of too much hair product and cheap beer wafting to your nose. You rolled your eyes so hard that you swear it could be heard. 

“Hey you,” his voice was loud, nasal, and badgering like a bad car salesman, “where have you been?”

“Out...networking,” you stated, “you know how it is.”

“You go out networking looking like that?” He formed his thin lips into a whistle as he looked you up and down, “You are seriously holding out on all of us.”

“No, I’m really not,” you shrugged, beginning to look at your phone, “I’m just super selective about who I network with.”

“Come on, we all know it’s not about what you know,” Brad said moving in so close that you felt his humid breath stew on your skin , “it’s about who you know.”

“And who the hell are you?” You said coiling away from him, your skin itchy and crawling with a slow worm of disgust. 

“Are you serious?” The entitlement he held in these words as he spoke them disgusted you. “Do you know who my father is?”

“Oh we’re going there?” You scoffed. “Please, I didn’t need to rely on my daddy to get where I am today.” 

“But I bet you like fucking powerful men don’t you, you whore!” He grated, grabbing and shaking you by the arms. 

Grabbing ahold of his arm, you shoved him off you back into a wall. He stumbled backwards, nearly falling into the potted plant behind him. Dave’s timing could not have been more perfect, as you saw him round the corner. 

“Fuck you, you brainiac bitch,” he cried and you nearly laughed at the entitlement weeping in his voice. 

“We have a problem here?” Dave's eyes were like lasers on Brad.

“It’s fine, Brad’s just drunk and disappointed,” you explained with nonchalance, “let’s go.”

“Have fun fucking a married man, you two-bit whore!” he bellowed. “Wouldn't it be fun if his wife found out about you two?”

Unblinking, you bounded forward with one foot ready to lunge at him until Dave held you back with nothing but a gesture of his hand. Silently, he walked towards Brad until he stood face to face with him. He leaned forward like a predator sniffing its prey. You watched mesmerized as Dave took a commanding hand to force Brad backwards by the base of his neck. He hit the wall with a loud thump. Dave’s eyebrows narrowed downward and his chocolate brown eyes faded to deep black pools void of any sparkle that you found in his eyes earlier that evening. You could see as he whispered something to him through growling teeth. Whatever it was, it was enough to have Brad stumbling away, dumbfounded and cursing something under his breath about how his father would hear about this. He turned back to you giving you a look that said: Don’t worry, it’s all taken care of. 

A tight excitement percolated in your stomach, up to your chest, and neck when you noticed no one was following you into the elevator.  As the doors closed behind you and after Dave pushed one of the floor buttons, you grabbed his sweater and pulled his body to yours until his lips crashed into yours in a fervent kiss.  The heat between you intensified as his massive hands made their slow journey over every curve of your body, slipping past your waist until they found a firm grip on your ass.

“What did you tell the poor bastard?” you asked, between wet, needy kisses. 

“Nothing serious,” as he brought his hand to your face, down to your clavicle and then cupping your breast, “just that I would find him and kill him if he made threats like that again.”

“Understandable,” you breathed,  as you felt his soft lips and his tongue dip onto your neck to your cleavage. 

He pulled down your bra to expose your breast evoking a desperate cry from your throat, “You have to protect yourself--keep up appearances.”

He pulled you close, licking and biting at your nipple. 

“Besides, no one’s going to talk about my dirty, pretty, little slut like that,” he said as he pressed you into one of the walls of the elevator. 

The elevator came to a stop on his floor, something you hadn’t expected. The thought of entering a space that was private to him sent a tingle throughout your body, emanating from the center of you. He was clutching your hand tightly in his, your fingers intertwined with his in a libidinous daze. The moment he pressed the keycard to his room door, your pussy pulsated for him. 

Inside, one bedside lamp illuminated the room, everything clean and presentable for you. Your heart began pounding in your chest in anticipation, until he reached behind wrapping his arms around your waist, his hands traveling upwards to massage your breasts. Every nerve ending in your body vibrated at his touch, his hands reaching down the front of your dress into your bra to play with your nipples. Your mind was spinning, your thoughts unable to keep up with the moves your body made. With a strong grip, Dave spun you around to face him, pushing you back to his bed with such force that you bounced when you hit the mattress. 

“Did you fantasize about me earlier this afternoon?” Dave voiced with a gruff whisper in your ear, as he crawled over you coaxing more sweetness to drip from your center. “When you had a headache, did you touch yourself? Make yourself come wishing it was me?”

“Yes!” you moaned. “I did.” 

With a firm right hand, he squeezed your face, forcing your gaze towards his, “Yes, what?”

You bit your lip before providing the response you knew he desperately wanted, “Yes, daddy.” 

A low moan vibrated in his chest and the feeling of his hardening bulge against your thigh had you lightheaded. You opened your mouth, presenting your tongue for him. He took it with a groan of satisfaction. Teeth, tongue, and lips intertwined together, so hungry that you could swallow each other. Your lips and his were red, hot, and swollen once they parted to find one moment to breath. Dave stood up from the bed, pulling his sweater over his head, almost taking the V-neck t-shirt he was wearing underneath with him. It gave you a small peek of his belly as it clung to his defined abdomen. 

He switched places with you, spreading his legs wide as he sat down to unbuckle his belt, setting it neatly beside him on the wrinkled sheets. The freckles on his chest peeked out from the deep v of his shirt, making you yearn for more. You watched as his massive hands caressed the fabric of his jeans. The way he made a show of taking off his wedding ring before you set off something carnal inside you. He placed it on the nightstand next to the bed, a gesture so erotic that it forced you to erupt with an involuntary moan. He looked up at you with heavy eyelids as he grabbed you. He left a kiss at your pelvis as he slipped his hands underneath taking hold of your ass.

“Take off your clothes.” He ordered. 

You complied, feeling the soft knitted fabric of your dress cascade down your skin like a waterfall, pooling on the floor. You stood before him, inhibited only by the strapless bra and cheeky underwear you wore. With one gesture of his hand he beckoned you to him. His hands were supple yet powerful as he massaged his hands up your thighs. 

“C’mere baby,” he gestured to his lap, “lean over.”

It was like second nature to obey him. You leaned on your abdomen over his knees with an automaticity that was so unlike you. He used his hands to push his hair off your shoulders, tracing down the shape of your waist, until they rested on your ass. The anticipation of what he was going to do next was burning your body.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” he groaned, massaging your ass, approaching closer and closer to your center. 

“Please,” you begged, wiggling for him. 

Before you could say anything else, you heard a low chuckle rise out of his chest followed by the sharp pain of his hand slapping your ass. The initial stinging quickly transformed into pleasure with just enough respite for him to slap again, but with more force eliciting from you a loud, long moan. Your center grew more wet by the second and between slaps you felt Dave’s fingers graze over the soft fabric of your underwear, teasing you. Another loud, strong slap met your ass giving you pain and pleasure while tears formed at the corner of your eyes. 

“Fuck, my gorgeous, dirty girl.” 

Another smack.

And another moan. 

“Who do you belong to?” He asked as you heard the familiar ringing of his belt buckle. 

Pants of your anxious anticipation were all you could muster andyou failed to answer him.

The crack of his belt came down on your ass and you cried out into the back of your hand. 

“I said, ‘who do you belong to?’”

The hedonistic crack of leather stung you again, leaving your ass hot and quivering.

“You, Dave,” you answered your moans mixed with tears of ecstasy, “I belong to you.”

And then came one, two, three more whips of his belt sweeped down on you. 

The audible sound of Dave taking in a long, deep breath of your essence was a moment of blissful respite. Two deep breaths of your own was all you were allowed before you felt his hands ripping off your underwear. A slap of his hand to your pussy was nearly enough to make you come, writhing over his knees. The tips of his fingers caressed your folds before he entered your center with two long fingers. You gripped furiously at the sheets on the bed, feeling your center throb as he pumped, moved, and twisted in and out of you. You could feel your climax rising, but all he left you with was a desperate cry and a feeling of emptiness as he pulled his fingers from you. 

“You’ll come when I let you, firefly” his voice rumbled. 

He stood up, letting you roll to the center of the bed. It was a desperate scramble for you to remove your bra, bare and open for him. Every move of his electrified you as he pulled off his shirt, revealing broad shoulders and chest, lines forming at the sides of his abdomen, but with a softer belly.  The anticipation sparked inside you as he removed his pants and you saw his hard cock, a twitching, veiny god ready for you to worship.

“I knew you’d be big,” you felt like a lioness ready to pounce on her mate. 

You crawled towards him ready to grab his cock, to show him how much you wanted him, to show him how well you could please him. Instead he shoved you back down on the bed, crawling up your body with his hands tracing up your curves until he had one hand gripping the base of your neck. The pressure with which he held your neck was exquisite and the heat that blazed from him to you had you bucking your hips in desire, longing for him to thrust into you. The ravenous look in his eyes told you that he was completely in control. He quickly bound your wrists together over your head using his belt. A breathy moan escaped you as he rolled his body against yours, feeling your nipples press against his broad, firm chest before he kissed you. The sudden feeling of the silky fabric of his tie covering your eyes had you panting and your heartbeat thumping into your ears. 

All your senses heightened as you twisted in anticipation, every hair on your body raised with the electricity he sparked in you. An indignant pout and whimper left your mouth as you lay in wait for any touch he decided to bestow upon you.

“Please, please Dave!’ 

“I like you like this, firefly,” he growled into your ear, “open and begging for me.” 

Your breaths and your pulse grew faster as his hands massaged your breasts before his fingers pinched your nipples. Your yelp filled the air as you felt his capable hands explore your body. The warm air of his breath reached your mound and his muscular forearms spread your legs open wide for him. You heard him breathe your scent into his nose, his loud groan vibrating your folds as though he’d been presented with the sweetest smelling fruit. Not a second later, you felt his broad tongue lick a firm, slow stripe from your center all the way to your clit. You cried out his name as he masterfully explored your folds, pulling the smaller petals into his mouth and then letting go to focus the front of his tongue to swirling, flicking, and lunging at your clit until all you could do was sob and fight against the restraints on your wrists. 

You knew his tongue would be heaven but didn’t expect just how adept he would be at finding your pleasure. It couldn’t get better than this. It just couldn’t. His next devotion was to wrap his lips around your clit and savoring it as the most delectable fruit he’d ever tasted. The blazing desire creeped up your chest to your neck, and your breaths were heaving, your center trembled as he refused to take his mouth off you. A loud, long scream of his name filled the room, as you bucked your hips from the overstimulation of his tongue as it brought you to orgasm. 

His lips released you and you lay on the bed, blissful, dizzy, and unresistant. He took off your blindfold, permitting you to see his handsome lust-filled face. His lips were painted with your slick. He brought his lips to yours, the taste of you mixing with the sweet taste of his lips. His massive hands explored your body until he held his grip at your throat. 

“Do you see how good you taste, you dirty slut?” He said through gritted teeth. “I’m gonna make you mine, completely.”

He unbuckled the belt around your wrists, and he pulled you up to him, pressing your bodies together. Sweat dotted your body as your heat intertwined. You needed to keep your lips held to his  in a messy and hungry kiss. Pulling him as close as possible to you, you wrapped your arms  around him, gripping him and feeling his cock grow thick and long with the need for you. You dug your nails into his back, a groan of pleasure vibrating from his chest. Yet he pushed you back to the bed, his expression mixed with anger and intrigue. 

“Naughty girl!” He said with a low roar shoving you away from him. “I didn’t give you permission to do that.” 

You grabbed his face with a smirk before you kissed him again. 

“Your wife would never do this for you,” you sucked his lip. “She’d never succumb to you the way I do.” 

You laughed as he tossed you face down onto the bed. Your cunt was weeping and ready for him. He grabbed your arms behind you, looping his belt meticulously around your wrists, tightening it to make sure you could not loosen it on your own. 

You wiggled your ass at him, straining your wrists against your restraints.

“Fuck, do you feel how hard you make me, baby?” He slapped his cock onto your pussy, drawing a loud yelp from you. “Look at how pretty your pussy is throbbing and wet for me, I wanna fill you up with so much of my cum that it’s dripping down your legs.”

“Please, give it to me!” You begged. 

Another yelp echoed in the room as he gave your ass a hard smack. You smiled to yourself knowing you’d have marks from him, too. 

“I need you to be more specific, firefly,” he uttered as he slapped his cock against your pussy again. “Tell me what you need, baby.” 

The way you wanted him was so intense that you were nearly in tears and you responded breathlessly, “I need you to stretch me and ruin this pussy with your big, fat cock. Please fuck me.”

He was unexpectedly gracious and rubbed his cock along your folds before pushing in and stretching you out slowly. You moaned feeling his dick throb inside you and your pussy clenched around it. Together you moaned at the feeling of each other, desperate and depraved for whatever the other would give. Your pussy quivered each time he pounded into you. The wet sounds that came from your cunt as he thrust into you were obscene. 

“Fuck, you’re taking my cock so well, you’re so fucking wet,” he growled, grabbing onto your hips with an iron-like grip. “This tight little pussy is mine. It was made for me.” 

The familiar tingle was beginning its eruption, undulating around in your body and brain. 

“I’m gonna come daddy!”

You could feel that he was close, too. His thrusts became harder and more urgent and his already tight grip became impossibly tighter. His breaths came out ragged and through gritted teeth as the tip of his divine cock pushed in deep to meet the spongy part of your core that set off the chain reaction that erupted first in your body and then in his. You squeezed  him and heard him growl out for you feeling his cock throb inside you as his hot, white cum coated your walls. You thought quietly to yourself that the IUD was the best medical discovery ever made as he released you from your restraints. 

As you lay there, his cum dripping from you he surprised you with the soft gesture of brushing your hair out of your face. You were giddy in the afterglow of how well he fucked you and you pulled him close kissing him and tugging on the sweat-soaked waves of brown hair. You stared at him for a while as he recouped the energy you had expended, examining each line on his face and the story behind it. His body held scars from secret stories you knew he wasn’t ready to tell. You kissed them and he flinched and you intertwined his fingers with yours, a silent encouragement that you would listen to those stories if he ever felt the urge to tell you.

“Shower with me,” you said, between greedy kisses that left both of your lips swollen. 

You stood up from the bed, knowing your body would draw him to you like a magnet. LIke a confirmation of your bet, he followed you into his shower. You closed your eyes letting the warm water cascade over the expanse of your body. It wasn’t too long before he joined you, immediately running his hands over you, massaging your breasts, worshiping your nipples, taking the pussy he had claimed as his own and making you fall apart all over again over his fingers. With one quick slap of your ass, he left you to finish your shower and dry off. When you were done, you stepped out, dried off,  and wrapped yourself in a plush, white hotel towel. The color stood in stark contrast to the dark deeds and desires you and Dave had for each other. 

“You can use my comb if you need to,” he walked in to stand just behind you, his naked figure taunting and tempting as he gestured towards the comb placed neatly on the bathroom vanity. 

The gesture seemed almost too domestic, but he quickly made up for it by grasping your hips to his pelvis. He pulled the towel from your body to admire your naked figure with his eyes and his hands. You leaned back into him and he turned your face to his to draw you into his ravenous lips. 

“Come back to bed,” he ordered. 

You obeyed him as he sat on the bed, drawing you to him by your waist. He blessed your breasts with kisses and then took your nipples into his mouth, biting at them with fervor. You tossed your head back moaning as he venerated your body with his. Your core was growing wet again at each touch. 

“Show me what your mouth can do,” he demanded as he pushed you down to your knees.

You wrapped your hand around the base of his cock, pumping him to grow just a little before you wrapped your lips around him. It grew in your mouth as you swirled your tongue at his tip, sliding into the small space between the head of his cock and his foreskin. He called your name as you gently rolled his foreskin back and down the base of him and adjusted your throat to take in the veiny, girthy length of him. The saltiness of his precum washed over your tongue as you let him fuck your mouth. 

“Fuck, baby, your mouth takes me so well,” he moaned his voice gravelly and unhinged.

You sucked on him hard, pulling on his cock as you let him go, leaving it standing at attention as he left your mouth. 

“I need to bounce on that cock, baby,” you pleaded with him, “please, can I bounce on your big--fat--cock.” 

“Yes, baby, take it all in.”

He moaned as you positioned yourself over him, bouncing and rolling your hips over him. You started slowly, your hands grasping and digging at his waist and chest with your nails as you felt his cock thrust into you. His thrusts became more erratic as he pushed himself into you deeper and deeper. Your tits bounced as you called out his name. 

“Oh god yes!” You cried feeling your climax approaching as he bucked his hips up. “Dave, oh, god yes, yes, it’s so good.” 

“Yes, firefly, you have the best, tightest little cunt,” he praised as you rode him. “Tell me who this pussy belongs to, tell me it’s mine.”

“It’s yours, daddy, only yours.” 

It was all he needed to hear as he rocked into you with all his strength, leaving you moaning out your adorations for him in the form of his name as you came undone over him. The heat of his cum filled you again and he gifted you with one last smack of your ass before he pulled out of you with a whimper that left you gasping. 

You rolled over with breathless ecstasy, gasping in surprise as he pulled you in possessively close to him. He kneaded the skin of your curves as he held you while you danced your fingers around his chest, belly, and pelvis where evidence of your scratches remained. You propped yourself up on your elbows to get a better look at his handsome face, keeping your gaze on his rich brown eyes. Instinctively, you brought one hand to brush through his damp waves. 

“You know, your cock isn’t going to be easy to forget,” you murmured, feeling the slightest bit of sentimentality edge into your voice. 

“You say it like we’re never going to fuck again,” he said with a raise of his eye brow, his hands exploring where you had left your mark, like he was memorizing them. “You left these for me after all.” 

“Think of them as reminders that your wife could never fuck you the way I do.”

He moved in on you tugging at your hair as he brought his face to yours.

“I told you, I would own this pussy,” he kissed you as insurance, “just as much as you own this cock.”

“I like that proposition,” you said, biting your lip at the thought of feeling his cock between your legs again.

You turned around and felt his arm wrap around you to pull you to him again. His hands rubbed up and down your body, occasionally pinching your nipples. You knew it would only be a matter of time before you were fucking each other yet again.

His face was so beautiful, perhaps the most beautiful you had ever seen. Your nerves were getting the best of you, but you knew you had to ask. You hadn’t gotten far in your career without knowing a thing or two, not without doing your research. He wasn’t the only one who could make things happen by grand design. Though, needing his cock had not been a part of your original plan.  

“Dave, I want in,“ you whispered, caressing his forehead and running your hands through his hair.

“What are you talking about?” He said his voice lowering an octave as he squeezed your hand to stop your fingers from caressing his hair. 

And then you let the request fall from your lips, “When are we going to kill Brad?”

***

A/N 2: I realize this has was left on a huge cliff hanger. I was not sure if I wanted to or if this would be enjoyed enough to warrant a continuation. Please let me know your thoughts and as always comment and reblog. I swear I'm nice. ;)