#- Pocket Spring Mattresses for Better Sleep | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

wearysparrows · 21 days ago

Text

Give an Inch, Take a Mile

ao3/masterlist

Summary: Sylus shows up at the door of your motel room after finding out you're investigating protocore energy fluctuations in the middle of nowhere. He claims he has business in the area and needs to stay the night -- but there's only one bed.

CW (18+): only one bed trope, grinding, vaginal fingering, AFAB mc (no usage of pronouns, no use of Y/N), reader is MC, a brief mention of birth control, Sylus comes in his pants, you both have a good time, etc. 6.4k

This situation had turned out to be less than ideal.

The Hunter’s Association had sent you on a mission that had seemed simple enough on paper: investigate the suspicious protocore energy fluctuations that were occurring in a fairly rural area, just outside of Linkon city. However, they had conveniently failed to mention the nature of your accommodations. It wasn’t that you weren’t used to staying in less than ideal conditions – you just weren’t prepared for this situation in particular. You pulled up to the motel on your bike, your belongings in a bag on your back. This was the only accommodation for miles around, and unless you wanted to sleep on the ground again, this was as good as it was going to get.

You weren’t sure how much more of sleeping on the ground your body could take.

There was nothing outwardly alarming about the motel on the outside – it was unassuming, two stories lined with austere gray doors. It was quiet. No one came in or out, despite the full lot. Somehow, this made you feel more uneasy than if there had been people milling about. Attempting to push these worries from your mind, you approached the check in window. A young boy’s face – no older than ten or so – peered at you with wide eyes from behind the glass that divided you. You were momentarily stunned into silence when he asked if you were checking in. You quickly showed him your Hunter’s ID, and he checked you in, giving you the key card to your room. You hurried towards it, now feeling eager to get settled away from the strangeness that was beginning to fall on the goings on around you.

You pressed the key card against the lock, and it opened with a soft click. You opened it just a crack, checking inside before fully going in. All was quiet. You opened the door fully, stepping inside and closing it behind you. The room was unassuming enough – a box spring mattress, a coffee table, a couch that had seen better days, and a strangely large mirror hanging over a countertop in the back corner of the room. You checked the bathroom. Nothing out of the ordinary, save for a rather tastelessly colored plaid blue shower curtain. You felt your body involuntarily relax. You returned to the main room, and set your bag on the coffee table that sat next to the couch. You sat down on the bed, which creaked loudly underneath you. It was a strange sort of creak, one that clicked loudly with each minor movement you made. A sigh escaped you as you unlaced your boots. It was only until you found the source of the strange fluctuations, you reminded yourself.

Just as you had finished kicking off your boots, your phone rang in your pocket. You checked it, eyeballing the contact on the screen.

It was Sylus. Rather, his contact said ‘Sy,’ as you had recently updated it to reflect the nickname you gave him in your head.

What could he possibly want right now?

To your own irritation, you felt your heart rate increase exponentially as you looked at his contact. You hadn’t heard his voice in a few days. You missed it, and him. You answered, intentionally letting it ring a few times so you didn’t seem too eager.

“Hello?” You kept your tone level.

“Where are you right now?”

Sylus sounded somewhat out of breath on the other end of the line, like he had been exerting himself. You found yourself wondering what he had been up to, but there were much more important matters – like why the hell he had called you and requested your location so rudely.

“Most people say ‘hello’ back before asking questions, at least. Why are you asking?”

Sylus tutted into the microphone, as if you were asking him something obvious.

“Well, I’m not most people, sweetheart. I’m asking because it seems like you’re stationary in the middle of nowhere. Is this the work of your oh-so-wealthy association?”

You didn’t even bother to ask how Sylus knew where you were. You had unwittingly grown used to his constant keeping of tabs on you. You had long assumed he had put some kind of tracker in your phone (though you could find no such thing after checking), or using Mephisto to keep an eye on you (you hadn’t seen him at all today, either). At the very least, you weren’t expendable to Sylus, though why he went through such great lengths to keep tabs remained unclear. Sylus’s natural purr of a voice calmed your anxious senses, despite his critical words. You leaned back on the creaky bed before you answered. It was so loud that you wondered if Sylus heard it through the speaker on his end.

“Don’t blame the Association. These are the only accommodations in the area, short of sleeping outside again. Besides, it’s not like it’s the worst place I’ve ever stayed. I only wish I’d come more prepared.”

You chewed at the inside of your cheek after you spoke, unsure why you’d offered that last admission of information. Though you were certain Sylus was aware of your personal flaws, being unprepared usually wasn’t one of them. You didn’t like to tarnish your own image – you had your pride, after all. Sylus hummed thoughtfully.

“I see that the bar couldn’t possibly be any lower, as usual. Alright, I’m on my way. There’s something I need to do in the area. Don’t be surprised when I knock.”

You opened your mouth to retort, but Sylus had already hung up on you. You stared dumbly down at your phone. It reflected your stunned face silently. You flipped it over, not wanting to see your own expression.

Something he needed to do in the area?

You couldn’t possibly imagine what Sylus needed to do in the butt-fuck middle of nowhere. Or why he was coming to stay with you. Or if he was planning to stay the night, and where. Or how he would know what room you were in. You felt your face flush at the image of Sylus laying in the shitty motel bed with you. Based on past experiences, you were almost certain he slept naked.

Couldn’t he just get his own damn room?

You shook your head, attempting to free your mind from these circling predatory thoughts. You changed into more comfortable clothes, careful not to let your bare feet touch the paneling of the floor. You showered in the little bathroom, trying to ignore the state of the towels there. After, you busied yourself looking over the mission files in bed, finally losing yourself in the information before you.

A sharp rapraprap on the door broke you from your absorption. It made you jump, your eyes flicking instinctively to your Hunter’s issue gun on the nightstand next to you. The sound came again twice more. All at once, you remembered Sylus had said he was coming, though you had half expected him not to show. You quickly checked your Hunter’s watch. It was nearly dusk, already. You hurried towards the door, feeling irritated and excited all at once at the prospect of seeing the enigmatic leader of Onychinus. Of being in the tiny room with him. You steeled yourself emotionally before unlocking the deadbolt and opening the door.

Sylus stood before you in his usual leather getup that he wore when using his bike. He looked no less handsome than usual – his moon-white hair was tousled by the wind, and his eyes shone deeply in the light of the setting sun. He had a suspiciously large duffel bag thrown casually over his shoulder. He regarded you coolly, an easy smile on his lips. You found yourself struck by him despite yourself, and struggled for words for a moment. Sylus found them for you.

“May I come in, my little hunter?”

You scowled at him, but found yourself stepping aside anyway. He slipped in the room, his steps strangely silent for a man of his size. He set his bag on the table next to yours. You deadbolted the door behind him, and put one hand on your hip. The other pointed at him accusingly.

“Aren’t there other rooms? Why could you possibly need to stay at this motel in particular? Surely this is a hovel compared to where you’d normally stay. And what’s with the bag? It looks like it’s about to burst.”

Sylus had busied himself removing his leather outerwear and shoes, putting them away neatly. He turned towards you with arms crossed. You thought he made the small room look even smaller with his height.

“The other rooms were all full. You’re right about the hovel, though. That’s putting it kindly.” Sylus scanned the room critically as he spoke. He was pointedly ignoring your question about the bag. You eyed it suspiciously.

“Besides, you stay at my base all the time when you’re on missions. Can’t you return the favor just this once?” Sylus’s tone was playful, and he regarded you with his usual air of confidence.

He did have you there, and he knew it, too. You more than frequently took advantage of the hospitality and resources he freely offered for your usage. He rarely made comments about it, and now it was coming back to bite you in the form of the man you were doing your very best to hide budding romantic feelings from. You adjusted your sleep shorts, suddenly feeling more cold and exposed under his crimson gaze. You had forgotten you had already changed into sleepwear. You crossed your arms around your upper body.

“Nothing in life is free,” you muttered.

“Fine. Do whatever you want.”

You sat back down on the bed, attempting to make a return to your files. You knew it would be impossible to focus with Sylus’s overwhelming presence in the small room. But you could pretend, for now.

“Such a cynical creature, aren’t you?”

You looked up from your paperwork. Sylus’s words were teasing, but his tone and gaze were incredibly warm. You hurriedly looked away again, hoping to hide the redness of your face.

Why did he say that like it was a compliment?

You heard more than saw him unzipping his bag and rifling through it. His socked feet appeared in your periphery at the side of the bed, and you felt something plush drape around your shoulders. You looked up in surprise. Your previously bare arms were now covered with the warmth of a periwinkle fleece blanket. You hadn’t even realized how much of a chill had crept into you until the blanket was around your body. You opened your mouth to say something – anything – to Sylus, but he had already turned back around, and was producing another item from the bag. He wordlessly placed a pair of slippers neatly on the floor next to your side of the bed. You watched all of this occur with a degree of shock before finding the ability to speak again.

“What’s all this? Why go through all the trouble?” You tugged the blanket closer around yourself, grateful for its warmth despite your suspicions. Sylus shrugged.

“You said you were underprepared. So I came prepared for you.”

You stared at him in stunned silence.

For you?

Before you could respond to his previous statement, Sylus spoke again.

“I’m going to shower. There’s more in the bag. Feel free to take a look.” He made his way to the bathroom, toiletry bag in hand, without sparing you a further glance. You opened and closed your mouth silently. He was hardly letting you get a word in. The last thing you had expected the bag to be full of was items for you.

You padded over to it quietly, having slipped on the slippers Sylus had brought. They were annoyingly comfortable, and just the right size. You ignored the little butterflies emerging from their cocoons in your stomach. You peeked inside the bag. It carried the lightest hint of Sylus’s scent.

The contents consisted of various wants and necessities – clothing of Sylus’s (you pointedly ignored the pairs of boxers, though your wicked eyes were drawn to them), extra towels, a small pillow, some food items, and a bag of toiletries. You unzipped it curiously. It was all travel sizes of the same kinds you used at home. You felt yourself blush so furiously that you swore it colored your fingertips, as hot as they suddenly felt. You put the toiletries back in the bag hurriedly, running a hand through your hair in a self soothing motion. The idea of Sylus keeping note of every single self care item you liked should have been alarming, but it only endeared him to you further. Any other man keeping such close tabs on you would have sent you running for the proverbial hills. You decided, distantly, that spending so much time with him had only deepened whatever burgeoning mental issues you were already saddled with. You threw yourself back into bed, and found yourself listening to the comforting sounds of Sylus showering. You could hear the water fall in waves as he moved underneath it.

You found much of your earlier anxieties had melted away for his presence at the motel. Despite your protests, it was nice to have another soul staying with you. You could take care of yourself, but Sylus’s energy was nothing if not reassuring, and you were grateful for it – even if he was only here on some mysterious business that he refused to disclose.

Not that you could ever tell him that. It would certainly go straight to his pretty head.

As if summoned by your thoughts of him, Sylus appeared from the bathroom, fresh from the shower. He had nothing but a towel around his waist, and was rubbing another smaller one on his wet hair. It wasn’t the first time you had seen him like this, and your mind was immediately drawn back to the brooch fiasco. You swallowed. You wanted to look away, but couldn’t manage it. Steam was still rolling off of his taut muscles, which rippled under his skin as he moved. Your eyes raked over his form, lingering where his obliques disappeared underneath the towel. Your mind kept trying to fill in what he’d look like without it. He really was unfairly beautiful. He looked even more ridiculously out of place in the room while half naked. He belonged in another world entirely. An evocative, tormenting vision of hell.

You felt his gaze on you, then. Your eyes snapped to his face. He was smirking. He gestured to his form nonchalantly.

“You’re pretty bold, aren’t you?”

You scoffed at him, trying to cover the fact that you had been staring. Nearly an impossible feat. You tore your eyes from the sight, insteading focusing desperately hard at your phone. Having no notifications, you opened the weather app instead.

“I wasn’t exactly planning to have a naked man in my room at night. Especially not you.” You grumbled. You didn’t mention all the times you had imagined a naked Sylus in your room, just like this. You kept your eyes glued to the weather. It was getting pretty cold outside. You were glad for the blanket.

Sylus’s face appeared in your vision. He was bent over at the waist next to where you sat on the bed. He was significantly more dressed than before, wearing a black tee and corresponding sweats. Definitely not how he usually slept, you noted.

“Is there another man you'd have preferred to have naked here tonight?” His voice was low, teasing – but there was something darker underneath it. You felt the hair on the back of your neck stand on end. You rolled your eyes at him, trying to cover the way you felt. His gaze was burning into you, intent on your answer.

Why the hell was he even asking?

“Sy, are you jealous of just the idea of someone else being here with me?”

Your nickname for him inadvertently slipped out. At some point (which you would hardly admit to yourself), you had started shortening his name to a diminutive form. You pressed your lips together, and hoped he had either missed it, or would simply choose not to acknowledge it.

Sylus’s eyes flashed at the use of the nickname. No such luck. A little chuckle reverberated out of him, and he removed himself from your personal space, standing upright.

“I don’t think I have anything to worry about, actually.” He had returned to his usual tone. His back and forth always gave you emotional whiplash. You attempted to control your expression.

“I’ll take the couch.”

He jabbed a thumb towards the offending piece of furniture, and your eyes followed the motion. It was a sad excuse for a couch, and had a suspicious sunken-in shape in the middle. It was much too small for a man of Sylus’s size – even for someone your size. You shook your head immediately.

“No way. You’re way too big. I’ll take it.” You made to stand up and head towards it, but Sylus was in front of you just as quick, blocking your way. You poked him in the chest with a finger.

“You’re in the way.”

Sylus had hold of your index finger, now. It was dwarfed in the grip of his large hand.

“So you won’t even pull back this duvet to sleep on the sheets,” he nodded towards the bed, “but you’ll sleep on that couch?”

Sylus was right. Considering the state the towels had been in (and the sudden appearance of a new blanket), you had elected to sleep on top of the duvet with just the blanket Sylus had brought. You didn’t trust the state of the sheets. The couch may have been even worse off. You had hoped he wouldn’t notice – but he was as perceptive as ever. Sylus released his grip on your finger, and your hand fell limply by your side. He continued.

“It won’t kill you to share in the name of comfort. Besides,” he went around to the side of the bed you hadn’t been resting on, and sat down.

“It’s not like it’s the first time we’ve shared a bed, right?”

Sylus’s words brought back memories of the times he was referring to. Not only had you shared a bed before in similar circumstances, there were times you had slept in his bed. You rubbed a hand over your face. Why did it always feel like he was catching you in a trap with his words? You really didn’t want to touch that couch. You also knew you wouldn’t be getting a lick of sleep with Sylus next to you in bed. Your pulse was already thundering at just the sight of him adjusting himself into a more comfortable position on the mattress, as if he already knew what your answer was.

You resigned yourself to your fate, sitting back on the bed, leaning on the pillows that had been propping you up to do your work. Sylus looked at you, his expression somewhere between smug and pleased.

“Perhaps being in bed together more often will make our resonance stronger.” He said offhandedly.

You shot him a look.

“Aren’t you normally only active at night? Why are you suddenly going to bed at the same time as me?” You pulled the blanket over yourself, chasing away the chill of the night air in the room. You ignored the siren’s song of the heat radiating off of Sylus’s body. Why did he only bring one blanket to share?

“I always adjust my schedule to accommodate yours, kitten. Especially since you’ve so kindly agreed to let me impose on your space.” He turned away from you to do something on his phone. He made no effort to hide its screen from your eyes. You turned your head ever so slightly towards it, so as not to alert him to your prying. Sylus turned his phone to a vantage point at which you could see better.

“You’re welcome to watch, but it’s not very interesting. It might put you to sleep. Actually, in that case, maybe you should watch.”

You felt like you should be embarrassed at having been caught, but something about Sylus’s devil-may-care attitude kept you from feeling too ashamed. You scooted a modicum closer to see the screen better. Sylus leaned towards you. Your shoulders were practically touching. You focused on the screen instead of his proximity.

“Are these businesses?”

Sylus hummed in affirmation.

“These are just what’s for sale at the moment. So far nothing is standing out, though.”

You watched as Sylus scrolled through the listings. The sound of the gentle tap of his thumb against the screen somehow made you feel more at peace. The pricings next to the listings suddenly reminded you that this was the leader of Onychinus who was staying with you in this seedy motel, looking at buying listings that were likely worth this business ten times over. The thought made you puff out a little laugh. Sylus tilted his head towards you, questioning.

“What?” He sounded amused just to hear you amused.

“It’s just funny that you’re here. Probably the most wanted man in the world – the leader of Onychinus. Relentless Conqueror. Endless assets at your disposal, and you’re at a shitty motel in bed with a Hunter. Shopping online.”

Sylus laughed too, then, and the smile lingered on his face. He set his phone down, and put his hands behind his head, relaxing. The movement was decidedly masculine, and found yourself even more attracted to him in that moment.

“Here – with you – I’m just Sylus. The ‘where’ doesn’t really matter.” He was looking up at the ceiling as he spoke, sounding sort of far away. His words made your stomach twist and flip upon itself, like a prey animal that chose to freeze rather than run from danger. You propped yourself up on an elbow to look at him, turning on your side.

“Are you saying you can be yourself around me?” You were half teasing, half actually asking. You tried not to wait for his answer with baited breath. He turned his face towards you, the back of his head still in his hands. He had a soft smile on his lips.

“Is there anyone else who I devote so much of ‘myself’ to?”

You were taken aback by his question, though not surprised he answered one question with another.

Devote?

His wording made it sound like this side of himself – this sense of self – was dependent on his devotion to you. Words had power, and devotion was a particularly strong choice. You felt like you and Sylus were always dancing around each other, just on the edge of the truth. He was always trying to say something without actually saying it – without inciting you to run away. You struggled to maintain eye contact with him, but managed to hold your ground.

“What are you trying to say, Sy?”

Sylus was quiet for a moment. He shook his head.

“Nothing. You don’t want to listen to me wax poetic about meaning all night. You have an early morning, right?”

His words prompted you to check your Hunter’s watch. It was way later than you thought. You nodded, though you wanted to press him again for answers – you knew he would offer none.

You found yourself laying on your back in bed, sharing a blanket with Sylus. His breaths were coming deep and slow. He had fallen asleep rather quickly, and you realized he must have been exhausted. You wondered what he had been doing before he made the decision to come stay at the motel – and whether it was really true that he had some business to attend to out here. Eventually, the serene sound of his breaths lulled you into a dreamless sleep.

You woke, eyes creaking open in the pitch blackness of the room. You really didn’t want to get up, but your bladder had other ideas. You slunk out of bed and to the bathroom in the darkness, careful to not wake Sylus. The bathroom light was bright, and it cast a menacing orange beam on the room before you could shut the door and finish. You cursed it mentally.

You washed your hands in the darkness, as the sink was outside of the restroom. You fumbled around for the hand soap, and found it, turning on the water to just a drip. You didn’t think about why you were going to such lengths not to wake Sylus. You just did it. You dried your hands, and tiptoed back to bed, sliding in under the covers.

Just as you thought you had accomplished your stealth mission successfully, Sylus had turned towards you, and wrapped you in a too-warm embrace. He had you crushed up against his chest as he lay on his side, your head now resting on his bicep.

“Sylus?” You asked, your whisper intense. Your heart was beating so fast you thought it might make an exit through your throat. You could feel every part of his body against yours – the hard lines of his muscles were pressed flush to you. Your hands had been pushed up against his hips. You kept them very, very still. Sylus didn’t respond.

He was still asleep – or so you thought. The arm that was thrown around you came up to rub circles in the back of your scalp. His thumb brushed the shell of your ear a few times – intentionally or not, you couldn’t be sure. Your hands fisted the material of his shirt near his waist, and your knuckles were touching his lower abdomen. His scent completely enveloped you. You knew you should have pulled away, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to. You weren’t even sure you would have been able to, with how strong Sylus was. You could feel your own arousal curling in your belly despite your best efforts to curtail it.

His voice, rough from sleep, came from above you. It shot tingles up and down your spine.

“When did you get so close?”

He made no move to remove you from his embrace. His hand had migrated from your scalp to in between your shoulder blades, pressing between them like he was trying to make space for you to sprout wings. The touch caused the smallest arch of your back in surprise, and the movement pressed your flesh harder against him. You heard him let out a quiet gasp, nearly imperceptible.

“You pulled me close in your sleep, dummy. You’re like a vice.” You tried to keep your voice level, but you thought you heard some of the heat you felt slip into it. You could feel his growing erection pressing hard against your stomach. You steeled yourself mentally, willing yourself not to acknowledge it. You weren’t in any better of a state, being so close to him.

You tried to push him away, but only succeeded in putting pressure on his lower abdomen with your knuckles. You felt his hardness twitch against you at the touch. His bare skin was hot under your fingers, a stark contrast to the coldness of the room. He held you a little tighter, hand finding your lower back now. Pressing. Massaging. You couldn’t help but relax some into the touch, but your mind still raced. It was like some invisible force was testing the level of your self restraint, tugging at the needs of your flesh, inciting them to rear their ugly heads.

“You’re so soft.” He murmured. His fingers were trailing lazily up and down your spine, leaving goosebumps in their wake. You weren’t sure if he meant your skin, your body, or your mind – or that it really mattered.

“Sy?” You questioned, not even really sure what you were asking.

Why haven’t I pushed you away yet? Why haven’t you pushed me away yet?

Sylus rolled on top of you suddenly, legs on either side of you, holding himself up by his palms. Even in the darkness of the room, you could see the heat of his carmine eyes. He was so close that his hair was brushing your face.

“I like it when you call me that.”

“Yeah?” You squeaked out. Everything around you was Sylus – the sound of his voice, the heat of his body, the scent of him – it was overwhelming, all encompassing. Your body was pleasantly too hot, lulled into submission underneath Sylus’s dominating aura on top of you. You swallowed dryly.

“Yeah.” You could feel his breath against your lips.

“Can I kiss you?” His voice was heady with need.

The question barely registered in your brain. He was on top of you, pinning you to the bed, and he was asking you for permission to kiss you. How many times had you thought about him kissing you? You managed a nod, beginning to wonder if this wasn’t just some elaborate fabrication of your desires haunting your restless dreams.

Sylus’s lips on yours were very real. The kiss was languid and warm, but insistent and desperate all at once. His tongue pried your mouth open, and he pressed it against your own. The inside of his mouth was even more unbearably warm than the rest of him. Your hands, which had found their way to his chest, were sliding down his abdomen now, lost in the heat of the moment. Sylus was sucking on your tongue, which made you pause your ministrations. The sensation had done much to increase the wetness pooling in between your legs. He pulled away, laughing breathlessly. Your chest heaved, having finally been given back access to air.

“I’ve been wanting to do that. You have a cute tongue.”

Sylus pressed his forehead against yours. You struggled to form words.

“How can a tongue be cute?”

Your hands resumed their downward journey, emboldened by his compliments on the muscle in your mouth. You found what you were looking for – Sylus was rock hard underneath your touch, straining against the thin material of his sweatpants. He hissed as your hands made contact with him, instead of coming up with an answer to your question. You wrapped a hand around him as best you could through the fabric, feeling momentarily brought out of your reverie by the sheer size of him. You palmed him up and down, trying to gauge his size.

“You’re so big.” You blurted out. Like he didn’t already know. You felt him twitch once, twice, under your touch at your words. He pressed another kiss to your lips. One of his hands was making its way underneath your shirt. He cupped your bare breast with his warm hand, squeezing. His fingertip circled your nipple, and it hardened under his touch. You shivered.

“Yeah. You feel how hard you make me?” His hand enveloped yours that was touching him, pressing down. He ground into your palm, and you could feel the wetness of his precum through his sweats. This only lasted for a moment. He released your hand, instead sliding his fingers inside your sleep shorts. Everywhere he touched left a buzz under your skin in his absence. He slipped two fingers against your cunt over your panties. You arched into his touch, fully knowing he could feel the wetness there. There was no way your attraction was a secret, now. It felt so good to finally have his hands on you. That you were mutually aroused.

Sylus was kneeling in between your legs now, fingers sliding up and down your pussy, refusing to give you what you wanted. His free hand alternated fondling your breasts and pinching your nipples in between his fingertips. You were caught between enjoying the pleasure, the ache for him that was reaching through you, and telling him to put it in you already.

This thought caused something else to occur to you.

“Sy – ah – do you have…a condom?”

Sylus paused his movements. His fingers hovered above you. He cursed quietly under his breath.

You couldn’t help the exasperated laugh that escaped you. You hadn’t been on birth control for a while – not since you had stopped seeing other men because of your feelings for Sylus. You hadn’t expected this to happen, ever.

Sylus pressed a kiss to your temple.

“I don’t. I didn’t think…” He cleared his throat.

“I came here in a bit of a rush.”

You filed that comment away in the things to ask Sylus about later drawer in your mind.

“Fuck.” You exhaled. You didn’t want to come away from the momentary bliss and back into reality. Before you could take the thought any further, however, a pair of strong arms had wrapped around you, carrying you in front of the large mirror in the room. Sylus set you gingerly in front of it, and you instinctively put your hands on the counter to steady yourself. Even in the darkness, you could see how Sylus’s form dwarfed your own in the reflection. He was pressing up against you from behind. Not just pressing, but grinding his arousal against your ass. He wrapped a hand around to your front, and began rubbing little circles on your clit through your panties. His voice was low in your ear.

“Let’s do this instead, then.”

Sylus set a pace, rutting against you. You were so wet that one of his fingers slid inside you easily, and you ground down on his palm, attempting to find friction there against your clit. You could tell Sylus was losing as much of his composure as you were, because he was pressing you hard into the counter, and kept sucking hickies into your neck that you knew would bruise later. You couldn’t find it in you to care. The sensation of him marking you was exhilarating. He had two fingers inside, now, the lewd wetness of the sound echoing in the otherwise quiet motel room.

“Sy,” you panted out, “want you inside me so bad.”

You felt yourself clench around his fingers, which only seemed to encourage him to add a third. You were close now, over stimulated by Sylus in every way possible. He was grinding on you at a stutteringly erratic pace.

“Fuck. ” he growled.

“I wanna be inside you, baby. Fill you up. Stretch you out.”

His fingers forced your mouth open, and he stroked your tongue with them. You sucked them eagerly. The thumb of his other had found your clit again, pressing against the hard button of your own arousal with increasing desperation. His words were enough to bring you over the edge. You clenched around the fingers inside you, your orgasm finding you white and hot, making your knees buckle underneath you. The sound of your own moans was foreign to your ears. Sylus held you up by the waist, the force of his movements practically lifting you off your feet as he ground on you.

“Shit,” he breathed. “Baby, fuck.” His hips stuttered against you without further warning, and you felt his cock pulse against your ass as he rode out his orgasm onto you. He groaned through it in a way that made you want to cum all over again. Through your blissed out state, you distantly realized he had cum in his pants. Not that you were any better off. Your panties were completely soaked.

Sylus peeled himself off of you gently, still supporting your weight. He hoisted you up instead, and held you in a princess carry. Your head lolled against his chest, and you were hit by what had just occurred. Sylus had worked you to orgasm with just his fingers, and he had cum from grinding on your ass. You looked up at him through your lashes. He was carrying you back to the bed as he spoke.

“Was that alright?” He was looking down at you. You thought you could see concern on his face in the dark. He set you gently down into the bed, sitting next to you. You stared at the stain on his pants. It almost would have been funny if it wasn’t so hot that you had worked him up so much – so easily.

“It felt really good for me. Did it feel good for you?”

The words felt a bit awkward on your tongue, but they were the truth. You liked him too much to be crass – you couldn’t believe he had just fingerfucked you to orgasm in a run down motel and cum in his pants from grinding on you. You felt like you were floating outside of your body, still not fully accepting that you had very nearly had sex with Sylus. Your face flushed hot all over again at the thought. Now he knew without a doubt that you wanted him inside you.

“Very good.” He gestured to the spot on his pants. “If you couldn’t already tell.”

The two of you had cleaned yourself up separately that night, settling for changing into clean clothes. Showering would have to come in the morning – you were both too exhausted. As you lay back down to sleep, Sylus had pulled you close again, and you didn’t try to protest. You fell asleep against his chest to the sound of his steady heartbeat.

The blaring of your alarm awoke you with a frightened start in the early morning. You sat straight up, cutting it off quickly. The events of the night before came crashing back into your mind. Sylus’s fingers inside of you, his body pressing you against the counter – you felt yourself flush all the way up to your scalp.

Now how were you supposed to act?

Sylus sat up next to you, pushing his hair out of his face. He was squinting in the morning light. You felt a pang of regret that you hadn’t been able to see the way his face looked while in the throes of pleasure last night. He turned to you, blinking. A large hand squeezed your thigh.

“If you’re going to investigate the fluctuations in the area, let me come with you.” His voice had the same sleep roughness to it that made your stomach hot. You cocked your head at him.

“I thought you had business in the area?”

“You are my business.” He deadpanned.

You groaned, and reached out to smack him half heartedly on the shoulder. He caught your hand, and pressed a chaste kiss to your knuckles instead. You couldn’t deny it – he really had come all the way out here just to see you. The thought made you giddy rather than annoyed, now. The mighty leader of Onychinus really went the extra mile when you gave him an inch.

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace sylus #sylus x reader #sylus x you #lads sylus #lads x reader #lnds sylus #l&ds sylus #lads x mc #sylus #sylus x mc #idk how to tag anything

557 notes · View notes

spurbleu · 5 months ago

Text

lassitude ✩︎‧︎⁎︎

[ken sato x afab reader]

S. the first time you are vulnerable with Ken Sato, you are half asleep. and for the first time, he is willing.

warnings: none, split pov

a/n: sorry for my lengthy absence, it got extremely busy for me lmao. i dont really like this- but i feel like i cant do much to make it better so here it is

word count: 1.7k

࿓༚︎︎‧⁎︎✳︎⁎︎‧︎༚︎࿓︎

The mumble of the morning stirred you from the pockets of your mattress. It was barely noticeable- the shift of the comforter- cool early air pooling between the hairs on your arm. The faint creak of the floorboards, (never good at keeping secrets) the spruce mumbling an Irish goodbye.

It would be a lie to say you didn’t see it coming. The sight of him.

Skin relearning to stretch over shoulder blades, peeking through your lashes in familiar foresight. The way his hands searched for his clothes through the birth of daylight- its first breaths placid against the bedsheets.

It all felt too beautiful- the apathy. Buried in lithe, lifeless blankets rather than the rhythm of his pulse, the plush of his embrace. The sudden emptiness of morning’s coffin, quilt seams ripped by the assumption that a goodbye wasn’t necessary.

Ironic- for how lonely the man seemed to be, he looked lethargic in the act of leaving. Near comfortable as he dressed, relief from the reclusive slump of his posture breaching a harsh breath that left the gaps of his teeth.

You were more awake now- enough to question why you cared.

He made it easy- cleaned up half the mess, took the other half out the door. And when it was time to ruin it again, he did it with kindness- gentleness in his absence. There was nothing you should’ve resented- he was doing you a favor. But you found yourself hating it more.

You knew it wasn’t a superiority complex- you were near equals as you slept next to each other. It wasn’t that he didn’t like you, because you knew within the next 12 hours, he’d be back again, pale in the face of his own affair.

Confounding. The principle that if he knew he was going to come back, why leave at all?

It struck you then- the putrid smell of your own confusion. The anger you held in the bed of your heart, fueled by the weak and needy creature of your own vulnerability. Its chubby hands wringing the veins that curled around your ribs. It spoke for you.

“Ken.”

It was weaker than you thought it would be- no louder than a whisper. At first, I didn’t even sound like his name- only a pathetic mumble that spelled out his silhouette. It became a bit more tangible, louder, when he turned to face you.

“Good morning.”

He slung his bag over the dip of his shoulder, dressed in the clothes from last night. They were wrinkled now, creased in the same shape as your bed, your floor, your home. It was hauntingly poetic- how he seemed to carry you with him in the quietest of ways.

A crease formed under the base of his lips- a smile. Still dry in early hours- complimenting the tanned sections of his jaw- spring kisses breaking the occasional sallow of his face. It was small, but under the shadow of his tousled hair, it looked near blinding.

(But that was Ken for you, wasn’t it? Blinding. Bright in the ways that make the air in your nose cold- fresh. Humane.)

“…Do you…need something?”

Fuck.

You should’ve followed the script. Typewriter font, black indifference, pretending to be asleep when he crept out the door. Feigning casual when reading the ‘text later’ note he’d leave on the counter of your kitchen, next to a day old, crushed protein bar (although, it would always be your favorite flavor).

But instead, you sat curled into the headboard of your bed, sheets protecting your fluttering gut as sleep fogged the more cohesive thoughts. It peeled back, though, the sensitive ones.

You wanted him to stay.

Although it felt like the first time you had admitted it to yourself, you found the blemish of your confession everywhere.

The pucker of your carpet beneath his socks. The indent on the left of your mattress- matching the round of his shoulder. The cool breath that escaped your lungs- collapsing against the rim of your heart.

And in the brevity of nerve, the one that spoke his name with so little foundation before, you answered him.

“Stay.”

࿓༚︎︎‧⁎︎✳︎⁎︎‧︎༚︎࿓︎

It’s the tilt in your voice that curves under his adam’s apple in a slow gulp- dry. The softer tones blooming under your tongue, coloring your bottom lip in a nude pink- stainless and genuine. Your lash line drooping into a word that looked foreign to the valley of your cheekbones.

Please.

He mirrored you. The slow breath that hollowed ribs, the sharper edges of his shoulders bending to the will of your own. Even his smile began to falter into the same wary, desperate line that creased the corners of your cheeks.

The effortless effect you had on him.

He knew it was happening, somewhere in the canyon of his bone. Mind disconnected from the marrow, as the better parts of him seemed to reflect every vice of yours. Although it was maddening, conscious clawing at the cushion of his skull, he had learned to embrace it.

Held it as he cradled you- bow of your spine splitting his chest in two- revealing the plusher parts of him, affection safely shadowed by the midnight and your snore. (He’d never admit it to you, but he sleeps better in your bed than he does his own. Although Mina suggests it’s about the company rather than the mattress).

Similar to your aftertaste, he was familiar with your vulnerability- a lot worse at hiding it than you might think.

The haphazard stack of protein bar wrappers in the trash (ashamed to say he counted, once. You’ve eaten every single one he’s given you). The grip on his sweatshirt when you pull him through your door- flushed fingertips eager on the cool metal of its zipper. Even while you sleep your body betrays, burrowing yourself into him as if somehow, you’ll leave a mark (equally ashamed, but just a bit more hopeful, he wants you to).

Selfishly, he loved it. How much you made him feel wanted- needed, even. How the cage of your chest opened for him, his nails the shape of a key as he dug into the softer parts of you. Grime dyeing cuticles red, and he’s convinced that if he asked to crawl within you, you’d let him.

Reluctantly, if so. Looking away, pink on your cheeks, spurred by the flash of his teeth. Unwilling to admit he had asked you before you could have offered.

A begrudging devotion.

He swallowed it, syrup sweet against the cast of his teeth.

“You want me to…stay?”

He let his bag drop to the floor, relishing that as he took a step closer, knees to the bed, the center of your throat bobbed. Contrast to your bold request, a shyness in the creases under your eyes and mouth. It reeked of yearning, and made an illness bloom on Ken’s tonsils.

You nodded slowly as he came to lay next to you. If he listened more closely and focused less on the cross of your arms, he would have heard your heart pulsing a morse that sounded dangerously, sweetly, like his name.

“Yes.”

“Why?” Classical, predictable, the way his smirk warmed the edges of his lips.

“Because you never do…” anxious- eyes searching excuses for the lack of a real answer- “…and the protein bars are getting old.”

A genuine laugh furrowed the flesh beneath his collar bone, morning voice still breaking from the aridity of unuse. “What if I left an apple this time?”

You leaned into his chest, pulling the covers to your shoulder. God, did you look good like this. Tucked into him, a little wanting, a little kind. “You’re so boring. If you’re going to leave, at least give me something good.”

Ken placed a hand to his wounded heart. “Boring? Since when is your favorite flavor of healthy boring?”

You sank back onto the mattress, and he followed you, now facing you with his hands folded under his cheek, squishing his dopey smile. Although he didn’t know it- he looked beyond childish- silly in all respects. But that’s what you liked about him, wasn’t it?

“Since the last 200 times.” You exaggerated, imitating him as you leaned on your own hands.

He searched you- not dissimilar to the way he accesses another player. The gate of their shoulder, the click of their jaw- or that slight competitive crinkle that tugged the corners of their lashes- angered by his run before he even hit the ball.

Being in the sport for so long, he had become accustomed to observing others- even from afar. Off the field, he’d find himself looking between the normalcy of strangers under the dark tint of his sunglasses. Envious- to live in blissful ignorance at their own open, bleeding hand.

He supposed that’s why he liked you. Equally as guilty of your own susceptibility- heart on your wrist. But goodness- even this close to you, he couldn’t read the glass over your eyes. As if you were those paintings behind velvet ropes- details clear from a distance, but fogged when you stand too close. Imperfections visible- but never telling.

(did Michelangelo find the Sistine Chapel just as beautiful from the floor as he did from his ladder?)

He hummed, a hand coming to trace the spring freckles that appeared on the plain of your cheek. His heart purred as he watched it bloom, every circle he drew spurring ripples of pink. He was so charmed- to see exactly what he did to you- so closely.

“Alright,” his hand drifted to the strands of hair that covered your ears, tucking it to see just a little more of your blush, “no more protein bars.”

You sighed against his face- and for a moment he was reminded how he had been there- on your lips. The stench of his own fervor- honey sweet between the cracks of its clay.

“Thank god- I was really getting sick of them.”

In his arms, you both dipped into a lullaby of silence, the sunrise cradling the fragile parts of your embrace. Those pockets of insecurity- the questions of why you asked for him to stay, and why he did. The looming assumption that this made you more than what you had been before- made you something, made it different.

You could have spent hours there, steeping in the change- elementary kids too scared to admit they ‘like-liked’ each other. Instead, you both fell asleep again.

࿓༚︎︎‧⁎︎✳︎⁎︎‧︎༚︎࿓︎

When you awoke- you were alone.

Once you slipped out of bed, it was well past 11. Your light feet and sweltering head brought you to the kitchen counter- where you found a plate of eggs, toast, coffee, and a note.

----

Home Soon.

-Ken

ps. hope this is better than the protein bars.

#ken sato x reader #ken sato x you #kenji sato x reader #kenji sato x you #ultraman rising #ken sato #kenji sato #fanfiction #fanfic #oneshot

574 notes · View notes

miasmaghoul · 11 months ago

Note

sooo.. how do we feel about swiss fingering transdew in the passenger seat

"Why me?"

Swiss tilts his head, spinning a heavy set of keys around one finger.

"Why not?"

Dew raises an eyebrow, gestures at the guitar in his lap, the papers spread out on his bed.

"Oh please," Swiss scoffs, pushing himself away from Dew's doorframe and striding into his sunlit room. It's a gorgeous day, early spring, the sweet scent of the rose gardens wafting in on the breeze. "You're tellin' me you'd rather practice than go for a joyride?"

Dew snorts, crossing his ankles and adjusting his beat up old acoustic. It's true that he's been at it for a while now, since just after breakfast, but this solo has been giving him shit and he's determined to nail it before their next group session.

"I don't think taking Sunny and Lus to the grocery store counts as a joyride."

Dew strums out a few chords while Swiss flops into his desk chair, leaning it back onto two legs. It creaks under his weight.

"Maybe not," Swiss concedes, unbothered, "but you could still come keep me company."

"What, the girls not enough for you?"

"They would be," Swiss replies with a shrug. "If they didn't spend every trip making out in the back seat."

Dew snorts at that - Swiss has a point, Sunshine and Cumulus are not ones to keep their hands off each other in any context. Still, he grumbles.

"C'mon, Sparky," Swiss goads, scooting his chair closer so he can rest his elbows on the mattress, propping his chin in one hand and prodding at Dew's knee with the other. "Don't make me beg."

"But I like it when you beg."

Dew throws Swiss a wink, and Swiss reciprocates with his best puppy dog eyes. Big and wet and completely irresistible. Dew sighs, throws up his hands in mock defeat.

"Fine, fine," he grumps, setting his guitar on the bed. "But I'd better get something outta this."

Swiss grins, delighted. Pats Dew on the thigh as he stands, shoving the chair back under the desk.

"I'll tell Lus to buy that spicy jerky you like," he offers, and Dew gives him a little ooh.

"The cheese too," he insists, shuffling to the edge of the mattress and reaching for his boots. "The one with the habaneros."

"Yeah, yeah," Swiss chuckles, heading for the door, "but warn me before you eat it, I'm not sleeping with you on cheese night again. I learned my lesson."

Dew hurls a pillow at him, and Swiss scampers into the hall with a boisterous laugh. The little ghoul works on lacing up his boots, and makes a mental note to never tell Swiss when it's cheese night.

Twenty minutes later they're on the road, and as the breeze blows through his hair Dew wonders why he was so reluctant in the first place.

It's a gorgeous day, sunny and hot, but not enough to need the a/c. They're flying down the highway in Copia's ancient whale of a car, the windows down and a Judas Priest cassette blaring through the speakers; Swiss belts out the chorus to Breaking the Law while Dew taps out a matching rhythm on the outside of his door. In the back, Cumulus provides backing vocals while Sunshine dances in her seat, and Dew can't help the massive grin that splits his face.

It's a 45 minute drive to the nearest grocery store - the one downside to the abbey being so remote - but the trip passes quicker than he expects. They're trundling into the parking lot before Dew knows it, Swiss killing the engine and groaning through a solid stretch. Dew flips down the visor, looks in the tiny mirror and makes a displeased sound at the state of his hair.

"Okay," Cumulus pipes up from the back seat. Dew peers at her in the mirror, not missing the fresh hickey just below her ear. "I have the list, I have our allowance, I have..." she pats at her chest, searching the pockets of her denim vest, "ah, and I have my phone!"

"You got my snacks on that list?" Dew inquires, working at his knotted ends. Cumulus makes an affirmative sound.

"Sure do," she lilts, leaning forward to dangle the paper in his face. "Jerky and cheese, as requested."

"Get some of that chocolate I like too," he mumbles, "the dark stuff, with the salt." He turns his head to give her outstretched hand a quick peck. "Please."

"You got it, sugar," she giggles, tucking the list away. "You two coming with us?"

"No boys allowed," Sunshine and Swiss say in unison, and the lot of them chuckle. It's a known fact that Dew isn't a fan of crowds and that Swiss can't be trusted around free samples, so in the car they will stay.

"Besides," Swiss adds, leaning across the bench seat to throw an arm around Dew's narrow shoulders, "I got good company right here."

He nips at Dew's ear and the little ghoul elbows him in the side, hard enough to make Swiss yelp. It turns into a quick little slap fight, a moment of playful stupidity that Dew will never admit to enjoying as much as he does.

"Play nice, kids," Sunshine chides when they break apart, resting her chin on the back of their seat with a toothy grin. "Or mommy won't bring back any treats!"

"Gross," Dew complains, but settles anyway. Goes back to working the kinks from his golden locks. Sunshine leans over the seat to plant a sloppy kiss on his cheek and Dew squawks in protest.

"Aww, but you I thought you loved calling me that!"

Dew shoves her away, suffers through a chorus of snickers while his cheeks go pink, and resolutely avoids looking over as Swiss. The girls get their things together and then they're clambering out of the car; Sunshine glues herself to Cumulus, laces their hands together, and together they stride across the parking lot to the hulking monolith that is the grocery store.

"Mommy, huh?" Swiss pipes up moments later, and Dew groans.

"Shut up," he grouses, giving up on his messy hair and slouching down in his seat. "It's her thing, not mine," Dew lies. "Besides, I've called you worse."

"Can't argue that," Swiss lilts, stretching his arm along the back of the bench seat. "Remember that time you called me Mr. Army?"

Oh, does he, and Dew really doesn't want to think about that right now. Thick fingers tease their way into his tangled hair, blunt nails scratching against his scalp.

"You were the one that put me in a schoolgirl outfit," Dew huffs, crossing his legs for reasons totally unrelated to that particular memory. "I can't be held accountable for anything I said."

"I just never thought I'd get anyone but Rain to call me that," Swiss murmurs, a lascivious grin sliding onto his face. Dew looks at him from the corner of his eye, unwilling to lose the pleasant pressure of Swiss' hand in his hair.

"Rain? Really?"

"Oh yeah," Swiss says, converational. His hand moves to cup the back of Dew's neck, and oh is that lovely. "Wanted me to spank his ass raw and tell him what a naughty boy he was while he said it. Poor guy went off against my thigh before I could even get him on my cock," he sighs, wistful. Swiss turns his head, fixes Dew with that vulpine smile. "You were a nice surprise."

The little ghoul rolls his eyes, and really hopes Swiss doesn't notice him squeezing his thighs together. He has nothing further to say on the matter - or, at least, nothing that won't get him into trouble - so he stays silent. Enjoys the way Swiss' thumb rubs the spot just behind his ear while he watches humans mill about the lot. Families and individuals both, with arms full of paper bags holding untold goodies.

For what it's worth, Swiss doesn't keep talking either. He's not quiet, still humming out a tune Dew recognizes but can't quite place, but it's comfortable. The sun's hanging high in the early afternoon sky, a gentle breeze flowing though the still open windows, and Dew would be lying if he said this wasn't a nice way to kill time.

"What's on your mind?" Swiss asks a handful of minutes later, giving his neck a squeeze. "You're never quiet for this long."

"Oh you're one to talk," Dew chuffs, crossing his arms over his chest. "I can't remember the last time you shut up for more than five minutes."

"Pfft, sure you can," Swiss insists, that large hand dipping into the collar of Dew’s t-shirt, callused fingertips drifting over his skin and dragging a soft sigh from his lips. "I'm pretty sure I don't talk that much when you're sitting on my face, spitfire."

Dew scoffs despite the tingle the words force through him, a warm feeling settling into his belly. He turns his head to give Swiss a look, an incredulous eyebrow raised.

"That's the only example you can think of?"

"No," Swiss shrugs, "it's just the one I'm thinkin' of right now." The other ghoul licks his lips in a very intentional way, and that tingle hits again. "I guess deepthroating Mount counts too, but -"

"So the only thing that keeps you from yapping is having someone's junk in your mouth," Dew interrupts, nodding sagely, "noted."

Swiss laughs, loud enough to get the attention of a few people loading their car nearby. Dew shrinks in his seat.

"Like you're complaining."

He shifts in the seat, scooching closer. Dew squints at him, suspicious, but doesn't protest. Not even when Swiss gets close enough for their thighs to touch, for the other ghoul to drape an arm around his neck and let that huge hand rest on his chest. For Dew to soak in his spicy cologne and for Swiss to rest his chin on a bony shoulder.

"Besides," he rumbles, nosing at Dew's temple, "we both know you love my yapping."

"Love is a strong word," Dew mumbles, tilting his head when Swiss nuzzles his neck nonetheless.

"Mm, I don't think so," Swiss hums against his jaw, stubble scratching at his skin in a way that makes Dew's eyelids flutter. "Don't think I missed that little leg squeeze when I was talkin' about Rain, baby."

Dew groans, gives him a little shove. Far from enough to dislodge the other ghoul, more of a nudge than anything else. Token protest. Swiss huffs out a soft laugh, kisses his cheek.

"That's what I thought," he coos, licking at the shell of Dew's ear to draw out a shiver. The hand on his chest finds a nipple through his shirt, and Dew has to bite his lip to keep from making a sound. Curse Swiss for knowing every one of his weak spots. "Can't hide from me, Sparky."

Dew hates that he's right, and hates even more that - even in a place like this - Swiss can get him riled up with so little effort. Dew bounces his leg, takes his lower lip between his teeth while he scans the parking lot. There are people everywhere, but none close enough to see them - a fact Dew is very thankful for when Swiss sucks his earlobe and gives one of his nipple piercings a tug. Any closer and they might hear his moan.

"Fuck," Dew grunts, squirming in his seat, "ugh, you bitch."

"Such language," Swiss taunts, tracing the tip of his tongue along Dew's pulse point. "Lucifer, you're so easy."

Dew growls as best he can, human glamour be damned, and it just makes Swiss laugh again. It's a shame he can't argue - Swiss and Aether are the only ones who have such an effect on him, and they both know it perfectly well.

"Aww, gettin' all hot and bothered already?" Dew tries to shake his head, but Swiss kisses his throat and it doesn't get him very far. "Don't lie, firecracker. I can smell it on you."

Of course he can. He always can. Dew sighs as his eyes slip shut, sagging into the seat as Swiss slowly but surely teases the spots that make him start to sweat. Swiss' other hand lands on his thigh, stroking tight denim until Dew’s legs uncross. He walks two fingers up the inseam of the little ghoul's jeans while he trails wet kisses along his jaw, and Dew really can't help the soft sounds it all wrings from him.

Then that wandering hand sneaks under his shirt, lifts it up to expose his belly, and Dew jolts.

"H-hey, wait," he breathes, fists balled at his sides. His eyes crack open despite the way Swiss continues to work his chest, his throat, his ear. He watches Swiss' talented fingers trace his happy trail, dip into his navel and disappear up his shirt, and when Swiss rubs at his bare nipple Dew has to clap a hand over his mouth to hide his moan. "Shit, Swiss -"

It's muffled by his palm, and Dew's eyes dart around the parking lot as Swiss pulls away. Fixes him with hooded eyes and a crooked smile.

"Hm?" Swiss tugs both piercings at once and Dew shudders. "Something wrong?"

"You - oh - fuck, Swiss some...someone's gonna hear, someone's gonna - nngh - gonna see -"

"So?" The hand under his shirt runs ticklish trails down his belly, makes the muscles there jump. Swiss nibbles at his collarbone and Dew makes an embarrassing gurgling noise. "You like being watched and we both know it."

That may be true, but Dew thinks there's a difference between Mountain spying on him through a crack in the door and being fondled in a public parking lot with the windows down.

Swiss' hand finds his belt then, and Dew throbs.

"Fucker," he bites out as Swiss unbuckles him, other hand still expertly working his chest, and Dew flushes at the dark chuckle Swiss lets out.

"Maybe later," he croons, kissing the hinge of his jaw. "I got other plans for you right now."

Swiss wastes no time it getting his belt out of the way, quick to pop the button and tug down his zipper. Dew's narrow chest is heaving by the time Swiss hooks two fingers into the band of his boxer briefs. The other ghoul gives him a cruel smirk, snaps the band against his skin, and Dew sucks air through his teeth.

"Better keep it down, baby," Swiss speaks against his ear, liquid silk. "If you can, that is."

That hand worms its way into his underwear, slips down between his thighs, and Dew clenches his teeth so hard his jaw cracks.

"Mm, what's this?" Swiss glides the tip of one finger through his folds and Dew's thighs tense. "So slippery already. Just from this?"

Swiss tweaks his nipple, licks a nasty stripe below his ear, and Dew really has to work not to choke on his own tongue. His fat little dick throbs against Swiss' palm, and Swiss sounds absolutely thrilled about it.

"Oh, someone's excited," he teases, one thick finger prodding at his hole. "It's already tryin' to suck me in," Swiss sing-songs, and the little ghoul's shoulders sag.

Dew whimpers when he pushes the tip inside, clenching around an intrusion that feels far too good for how slight it is. He can't stop looking at everyone wandering the parking lot, trying to stay on high alert for the slightest hint of undue attention but struggling more and more with every passing second. Swiss wriggles that probing digit further inside, up to the second knuckle, and then there's sudden pressure on it front wall that has Dew's back arching off the seat.

"Fuck, fuck," he wheezes, hands flying to whatever he can reach - one paws at Swiss' shirt, the other gripping his forearm. Feeling the muscles shift as Swiss' finger works him open, groaning at the gentle stretch. "Oh you bastard."

"Flattery will get you everywhere, sweetheart," Swiss breathes, palming his stiff clit, and Dew's breath catches in his throat.

"Can't believe you're - oh shit, oh - fuck, can't believe I'm letting you - ah!"

Dew bites his lips shut as Swiss curls his finger just right, muting his cry and fighting to keep his eyes from rolling back. Clamps his thighs around that massive hand until Swiss chuckles in his ear, swirling that digit and making the little ghoul's eyes cross instead.

"You're so pretty like this," he rumbles, a second finger tracing around the first, spreading slick. "All shy. Makes you even tighter," Swiss tells him, and Dew clamps down even harder. Why is it so good? "Wish I could get you in my lap right now," his breath is so, so hot in Dew's ear. "Get you to sit on my cock and see how quiet you are then."

Dew shivers head to toe, legs spreading at the thought alone, and Swiss leaps at the opportunity. Pulls his first finger out only to slide back in with two, and there's no possible way he could stay silent through that. He turns his head just in time to sink his teeth into Swiss' shoulder, howling his pleasure into cotton and flesh, and Swiss groans right along with him.

"That's more like it," he praises, kissing the top of Dew’s head while he pants and shivers. "Gonna be a quick one, isn't it?"

Dew nods as best he can, moaning into Swiss' shirt when he rubs the heel of his hand in slow circles over his pulsing clit. Doesn't pull back until he's sure he can control himself, gasping when Swiss crooks his fingers but biting back the whine bubbling up in his throat.

"Y-yeah," he admits, thready. He can't be bothered to look out the window anymore, staring only at the bulge Swiss' hand makes in his jeans. "Fuck, just do it, fuckin' make me."

"Well, since you asked so nicely," Swiss lilts, one last taunt, and then the only sound filling the space around them is the wet squelch of skilled fingers plunging in and out of his tight little body.

It's perfect - the curve of Swiss' digits, the pressure against his sensitive little dick, the way Swiss rubs at that one spot inside that has Dew going boneless against Swiss' side. Huffing hot into his shirt, hair falling into his face and wafting in the breeze still flowing through the open windows. He can't stop grabbing at Swiss - his shirt, his arm, whatever he can reach. Skinny hips rolling against his palm in search of more, more, driving Swiss' fingers as deep as they'll go.

"C-close," he spits far too soon, every inch of him on fire and wound tight as a spring. Swiss gives his closes approximation of his usual purr, and Dew's thighs quiver. "Like...like that, just like that, shit -"

"Yeah?"

The hand still torturing his nipples stills, presses flat to Dew's chest. His fingers feel so perfect Dew can't handle it, on edge and covered in goosebumps.

"Give me a squeeze, baby," Swiss instructs, and Dew does. Clenches hard around those two wonderful digits and Swiss seems to predict the sound it'll drag from him, because the hand on his chest flies to cover Dew's mouth and catch his wail. "Fuck, that's my good boy," Swiss huffs, breathless in a way Dew adores even through his haze of pleasure. The other ghoul holds him close, keeps his mouth covered, and Dew scrabbles at the arm working him. "Now let me feel it cum for me."

Dew loses all sense of rhythm as Swiss curls his fingers one last time, hitting something that puts stars in his eyes and wrenches harsh moans from his throat, and with one perfect roll of Swiss' palm against his clit Dew's gone.

He's drooling against Swiss' palm when he comes down from the highest high, sweaty at his hairline and his cunt still snapping around Swiss' fingers. Holding him inside with the little ghoul rides out the aftershocks, breathing hard through his nose and blinking with one eye at a time. Swiss is muttering all sorts of nonsense into his hair, a litany of praise and wonderment that Dew cannot for the life of him understand but appreciates anyway.

Soon enough sensitivity sets in, and Dew hisses against Swiss' damp palm. Reaches up to peel his hand away with shaky fingers, squirming until Swiss gets the message and pulls out with care. There's a gush of warmth that follows, soaks into his briefs, and Dew heaves a sigh.

"Unholy shit," he slurs, collapsing back into his seat like a mound of jelly. "What the fuck, Swiss."

The other ghoul chuckles, and Dew rolls his neck just in time to watch Swiss pop his messy fingers into his mouth. Listens to Swiss suck them clean and groan at the taste of him.

"What?" He licks slick from his palm, exaggerated passes of his tongue that Dew finds himself fascinated by. "You said you wanted to get something outta this, right?" Dew blinks at him, brows scrunched together as he tried to make his brain work. "Just granting your wish, Sparky."

Swiss gives him a wink, and then he's leaning in for a quick kiss. Just a peck, really, before he's fastening Dew's jeans and putting his belt back into place. Smoothing his hair as best he can before he scoots back behind the wheel, lacing his fingers behind his head. Dew's fully back by the time he's done, very aware of their surroundings once more and ever so glad to see their activities seem to have gone unnoticed.

"Just in time, too," Swiss comments, nodding towards the store. Dew squits against the sun and sees the girls just leaving the building, Sunshine's arms full and Cumulus carrying what looks to be a single bag of chips. They're bumping into each other and giggling, Dew can tell even from across the lot, and his own smile curls into place.

"Damn," he laments, sitting up straighter. "Guess you'll have to wait 'til we get back for your turn, huh?"

He turns to give Swiss a playful wink, and finds Swiss looking...he isn't sure. Smug? Maybe? Hard to say.

"What's your problem?"

"Nothin'," he shrugs, eyes wrinkled at the corners. "Just find it funny that after so long you still don't know what you do to me."

Dew blinks as Swiss reaches over to grab his wrist, guiding to his crotch and -

"Oh no fuckin' way."

"Tell anyone and I won't eat you out for a month," Swiss threatens, but Dew's too busy enjoying the sizeable wet spot beneath his hand to care.

"We're ba-ack!" Cumulus calls once they're in earshot, and Dew gives Swiss a squeeze before he pulls back. Licks at his palm while Sunshine loads up the trunk, just to make the other ghoul suffer a little bit more. The back doors swing open and the girls slide inside. "You boys have fun without us?"

"Oh, Lus," Dew tells her, rifling through the cassettes in the glove box with the tang of Swiss still coating his tongue. "You have no idea."

#miasma's work #the band ghost fic #will post to ao3 later since this is like a million words #dewdrop ghoul #swiss ghoul #cumulus ghoulette #sunshine ghoulette #trans dew #swiss/dew #swiss x dew #swissdew #quick warning for mentions of forcedfem amd teacher/student rp but no actual content as such #not rereading before i post so if you see mistakes #no you dont

493 notes · View notes

hesbuckcompton-baby · 9 months ago

Text

Better Off - Bernard DeMarco x OFC - Chapter 2

AO3

Summary: During a party at the officers' club, DeMarco gets the chance to smooth things over with Susie, and she shows her true colours when defending one of her friends

Warnings: Language, smoking, harassment, misogyny, violence

Word Count: 3.6k

Tags: @xxluckystrike @latibvles @footprintsinthesxnd @mads-weasley @joyfulbookreviewmarvelspy

Susie jolted awake to the sudden bang of a door swinging shut, squinting in the unbearable brightness of the light which she assumed to be morning. "Susie!" Charlotte's voice hit her ears, and she folded her arms tightly over her head to block everything out, inhaling the smell of cigarette smoke. That was strange.

"What?" She groaned.

"You fell asleep in your uniform. Get up."

Blinking slowly, Susie looked down at herself, and sure enough, she was dressed head-to-toe in her dress greens, her shoes still on her feet, one leg dangling off the side of her mattress as she lay on top of the crumpled blankets. "...Oh shit. Is it morning?"

One of the other ATS girls let out a bark of laughter, and Charlotte shook her head, a smile curling her lip. "No. We just got in from the pub, it's been... what, three hours since you left?"

"God, no wonder I feel like shit."

"You look like it too. Are you sure you're alright? Not like you to call it a night after only one pint."

Susie's hand fell to her pocket, and she felt the cool metal of the money DeMarco had given her against her fingertips. She nodded weakly. "Yeah. No, I'm just tired."

Charlotte raised a brow discerningly, sitting down on the edge of Susie's bed. "Right. Get up, get out of that uniform, and tell me what's wrong. I'll iron your stuff tomorrow, I have to do mine anyway."

Her brow was furrowed in confusion but she obliged nonetheless, rising to her feet as she began to peel away her uniform, the inhabitants of their hut far too familiar with one another to be embarrassed about any state of undress. "What, you want to... listen to me talk about my feelings?"

"Yes, Susie. You know - like an actual human."

"Sounds terrible-"

"Susie!"

"Right, yeah, ok. Well... I think I'm frustrated."

Charlotte's mouth hung slightly agape, as if watching a baby giraffe learn to walk for the first time. "... you think?"

"No, no. I am," She nodded firmly. "... Yeah. There was a bloke I thought might've been my friend but it turned out he was pissin' me about."

"What a shit."

"...Yeah." Susie agreed, a distinct air of uncertainty lacing her voice. Charlotte stared at her like she was encountering alien life for the first time. The cold night air stung her bare skin as she hurried to pull on some pyjamas, uniform laid out as neatly as she could upon the bed. Even inside the Nissen huts, it was never fully warm - on particularly nasty nights, the women would pass around thick, wool socks so that everyone could double up on layers, the thin army-issue blankets doing little to keep them insulated. "Can I go back to sleep now?"

"Y'know, I don't think you're mean, Suze," Charlotte pointed out as she gathered the crumpled clothes. "Just... socially incompetent."

"Noted," Susie nodded, collapsing face-first onto the bed, the spring mattress shrieking its objection as she bounced up and down a few times below slowly settling to a halt. In her mind, it didn't matter why people didn't like her - they just did, and she wasn't very interested in changing herself to avoid it. Everyone had always liked her sisters growing up, and it mostly seemed to mean that they never got left alone. But Susie liked being left alone.

Or at least, she managed to convince herself that she did.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The sun had long since set, a warm glow and the echo of brass music echoing from within the officers' club, a steady hum of conversation carrying on the breeze. Standing out in the darkness, back pressed against the wall, Susie pulled her cigarette away from her lips, a huge cloud of smoke erupting before her. She and Charlotte sported matching lights, the small, burning embers flickering orange as they puffed away in silence. Charlotte smoked about a dozen a day, but she refused to do it inside, repulsed by both the lingering smell of her own smoke and the thought of men watching her do it. It always seemed hypocritical to Susie, but nevertheless, she accompanied her, waiting patiently until they were both done.

"Freddy's back in town on Wednesday," Charlotte stated, breaking the silence that hung between them. She had been engaged to the RAF pilot for over a year, but there had never been time or money enough to arrange the lavish wedding they both so desperately wanted. Susie had only met the man once or twice, but he seemed a good bloke to her, albeit excessively chipper. She never quite trusted optimists.

"Oh, give him my best. I've got a pick-up run to fucking Peterborough on that day - apparently, they've got a shortage of vehicles, so I've gotta go all the way to them. Bloody waste of a day, really," She complained, lightly kicking one of the old empty beer bottles on the ground and sending it spinning across the tarmac.

"You should get the truck checked before you go - you'd hate to break down somewhere. I can call Bevan or something, she'll give it a look."

"Nah. I haven't been having any problems, I won't waste her time. She's got enough on her plate."

One of their bunkmates, a young woman named Maeve, tore open the door to the club, the music splitting the air. Her hat sat lop-sided on her head, cropped blonde hair erupting in frizz from the sweat that beaded on her forehead. "Are you gonna come in or what? I've already danced with three Yanks, how long does it take to smoke one fag?"

"Alright, Jesus," Susie rolled her eyes, twisting her heel as she stomped hers out. The sudden noise was jarring as they headed inside, and it took her eyes a moment to adjust to the light after spending so much time outside. She couldn't quite remember what the party was even for, but the Americans didn't strike her as a group in need of much of a reason for one.

The women from her hut were all either crowded at one end of the bar or dancing with some of the men that filled the room, and Susie immediately made a beeline for the former, utterly uninterested in a bit of dull conversation or awkward flirting with a man she'd undoubtedly never speak to again. Her sister Beatrice often complained she had an un-romantic view of the world - she preferred the term 'realist'.

She had barely had time to take a sip of her first drink before she felt a tug at her trouser leg. Peering down, she met a familiar pair of dark eyes, Meatball's tongue lolling out of his mouth as he stared up at her, tail thumping against Maeve's leg as it wagged incessantly. The women were delighted by his sudden appearance, crouching down to scratch beneath his chin and rub under his belly, the dog revelling in the attention. But Meatball's presence meant one thing.

"Susie?"

Susie stood up straight, wiping a line of beer foam away from her lip as she found herself face-to-face with DeMarco, a stern frown creasing her expression. She'd managed to successfully avoid him for nearly a week, but with her back pressed up against the bar there was no escape.

She never dressed like she was supposed to be where she was. It was something Benny liked about her. Her hair fell uncurled down her back, her tie hanging loose around her neck, the top button of her shirt undone. Hand planted firmly on her hip, she appeared even more irritated by his presence than she had the first time they'd met.

"Look, can we-" He paused, an idea slowly surfacing. "... Will you dance with me?"

Maeve and Charlotte were both staring, expressions prompting her forward. DeMarco's friends were huddled nearby, clearly watching the scene, close enough to hear every word.

He's backed you into a corner. He's forcing you to answer. If you say no, he's made sure you're the one who'll look like an asshole.

What a dick.

"Fine." Teeth clenched, a bitter sweetness lacing her voice, she seized his arm, marching him towards the dancefloor and leaving the other women to fawn and coo over Meatball.

He stared down at the hand she had on his sleeve, frowning at the stiffness of her grip. Her shoulders were visibly tense, and he could feel the reluctance in every step she took. "... You look nice," He pointed out, flashing a smile.

Susie paused in the centre of the floor, taking his hand with about as much enthusiasm as if she were at a funeral. "Right. Sure."

The music had picked up, more than a dozen couples filling the room, dancing merrily. DeMarco liked this song. He'd danced to it countless times, with far more cheerful, willing partners. He could feel the warmth of her skin as he put a hand on her waist, and with a start realised that she was actually rather good at this. Staring down at the smooth movement of her feet, he almost forgot what he had come to say.

Clearing his throat slightly, Benny met her eye. “Susie, look. I know I don’t know you very well-”

“That is correct," She nodded firmly, and he fought the urge to scoff.

“Can you let me finish?! Jesus. I know I don’t know you very well - but - I can tell you’re not going to admit you were wrong. So I’m gonna do it for you. Susie, you were wrong. I was not trying to use you to get close to your friends - one of Charlotte’s friends had a date with one of my guys tonight, and I was asked to pass on a message that he had to cancel. That's why I needed to talk to her, you were just so-...” His mouth opened and shut as he tried to find the word, hand releasing hers for a moment to flail wildly in the air. “-You!"

Her gaze had begun to soften, and for a moment he felt a pit of guilt burrow in his stomach. "…But I’m sorry that’s happened to you before. Some guys can be real jerks.”

“Oh, really, thank you for the warning,” Susie said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. DeMarco frowned flatly, and she cleared her throat. “Right. Yeah… Ok.”

"It usually helps when you let people finish their sentences," He shrugged, and she tilted her head to the side, eyes narrowing. When he slipped his hand back into hers, she was noticeably less tense.

"Well, I didn't know what you were gonna say."

"Exactly, Suze. That's what the rest of the sentence was for," DeMarco pointed out, unable to restrain a chuckle, flashing a boyish, lopsided grin. She felt her cheeks heat up, and let out a snort of laughter herself, her stubbornness ridiculous in hindsight. After a moment, Susie couldn't help but laugh - a real, melodious laugh, erupting from deep within her throat, eyes squeezed shut as her head tilted forward, a single auburn curl slipping over her shoulder to hang in her face.

He paused, the shuffling of his feet slowing, falling out of time with the music. She seemed all hard lines and rough edges, far too much so to ever produce such a wonderful sound. It was the kind of laugh that made a person feel lighter just for hearing it, and DeMarco hadn't realised quite how much he'd been staring until Bucky's teasing grin caught his eye from across the room, and he snapped out of it before Susie could notice.

The song reached its end, and her steps slowed to a halt, prying her hands away from his. "Right, you interrupted me before I could finish my drink, so I'm gonna go find it," She nodded determinedly, Meatball wiggling his way through the crowd to nip at her heels as she walked, his tail wagging back and forth wildly. Accepting her departure, Benny drifted back over to his friends, accepting a drink as it was passed to him.

"Breaking that shell, huh?" Bucky asked, that same pleased smirk creasing his cheeks.

His eyes narrowed slightly, shaking his head as he took a sip of his drink. "Don't believe everything ya hear, John."

Susie pried her shoulders through the press of bodies that had gathered around the bar, hands raised as she side-stepped between a few officers, watching keenly for her half-finished beer. She spotted Maeve, stood dutifully with a glass in each hand, and realised with a smile that she'd been keeping an eye on it for her. A pilot she didn't recognise was stood beside Maeve at the bar, talking her ear off, and by the uneasy expression on her face, she wasn't exactly enjoying it.

"Thanks, love," Forcing a smile, she took her drink back, purposely shouldering in between the pair, cutting off the pilot mid-sentence. He let out a frustrated grunt, but Susie didn't offer him a second glance, placing a gentle, reassuring hand on Maeve's arm. The newest member of her crew, the girl had been freshly nineteen when she arrived at Thorpe Abbotts only a few months ago. She was bubbly, blunt, energetic, and something about her seemed familiar to Susie, something that kept her tethered at her side. "I was just talking to Charlotte-" She lied, deliberately refusing to address the third member of their party. "-and we were talking about going down to the pub instead, find some better beer."

The pilot cleared his throat, speaking up. Something about his smooth accent rubbed Susie the wrong way. "Excuse me? Maeve, we should get on the dancefloor before the next song starts."

Shaking her head, Susie wedged herself even more firmly between the two, shouldering Maeve behind her. "No, she's not gonna be doing that."

"I wasn't talking to you."

"Well, now you are."

The air itself had grown tense around them, drawing the stares of others just trying to enjoy their evening. Further down the bar, she noticed DeMarco and his friends watching with furrowed brows, sporting identical frowns as they slowly put down their beers in anticipation. She felt Maeve's fingers brush against her own behind her back, searching for her hand.

The pilot was growing more and more irritated by the second. "Listen, we're all just here to have a good time," He said tensely. "It's one dance, it's not gonna hurt anyone."

Maeve's hand squeezed hers, a wordless way of saying 'Yes it will'.

"I think we've established that's not happening, Yank. Now why don't you fuck off and bother someone else, before this becomes a problem."

He scoffed, clearly doubting Susie's ability to make this altercation any sort of problem for him. Over his shoulder, she noticed DeMarco making his way through the crowd towards them, frown darkening his entire face. "There an issue here?" He asked, voice sterner than she'd ever heard it.

"Yeah, DeMarco - why don't you come over here and put a muzzle on your bitch, huh?"

The moment the words left the man's mouth, DeMarco was lunging forward, Blakeley's hands seizing his shoulders before he could cause any real damage. A self-satisfied smirk curled the pilot's lips, but in the moment DeMarco had dove at him, he had failed to notice Susie, upturning her beer and pouring every last drop down her throat in a single gulp. By the time his head turned back towards the two women, her fist was already clenched and pulled back, and an almighty crack echoed through the officers' club as her knuckles collided with his jaw. Staggering backwards, his side slammed into the bar, undoubtedly leaving some nasty bruises as he tumbled backwards, landing flat on his ass on the polished wood floor.

A stunned silence had descended upon the room, every eye locked onto the scene, a few snickers rising from the crowd as the pilot gawped up at her, eyes wide and gormless. "C'mon," Susie uttered, taking advantage of the sudden stillness to worm her way through the crowd, tugging Maeve along by the hand, the girl staring slack-jawed at the scene as they passed.

Susie hadn't realised how stifling the officers' club was until they breached the doorway, stepping out into the cold night air, no light except for a single streetlamp, which flickered and buzzed intermittently. Her knuckles throbbed painfully, shoulder reeling from the sudden swing, but the pain seemed washed away the moment Maeve let out a laugh - a shrill, hysteric giggle, hands clamped tightly over her mouth to muffle the sound, eyes wide in shock.

"Holy shit, Susie!" She cackled, and soon Susie had begun to grin too, their expressions painted in sheer disbelief at the scene that had just occurred. "That was fucking cool! Quick - let's go back in there and kick 'im before he can get up."

"No, no!" Susie chuckled, grabbing Maeve's wrist to stop her from marching straight back inside again. "We're in enough trouble as it is, let's not, eh? Save it for next time we see him," She winked, making the younger girl giggle.

Suddenly Maeve gasped, a hand raised to her scalp. "Oh shit, I left my hat inside."

The sound of footsteps just inside the doorway caught their attention, and out hurried DeMarco, Major Egan tailing close behind, Maeve's ATS cap in hand. "You guys ok? You hurt?" Benny called, brow creased in concern.

"Oh, we are so great," Maeve laughed, accepting her hat with many grateful thanks. "I mean did you see that? One hit - bam! - down!" Susie nodded along, beginning to chuckle, her cheeks burning a bright red.

"Yeah, it'll be even more impressive if I manage to keep my job," She huffed, shoving her hands in her pockets.

"Well, I dunno about you, Benny, but I sure didn't see anything," Egan shrugged.

"Not a thing," DeMarco concurred, grinning. She met his gaze, and for a moment they both struggled not to burst into laughter.

"Right, well I'm not nearly drunk enough to go home yet," Maeve declared, glancing around at the group to gauge their reactions. "Pub? Pub anyone?"

"Not for me," Susie shook her head. "Even if everyone denies what just happened, I'm already on second chances. I'm gonna get some sleep before I have to deal with it tomorrow."

"I'll go," Egan nodded. "Keep an eye on the kid."

"Thank you," She smiled earnestly, taking Maeve's cap and tucking it beneath her arm. They'd all told the girl not to wear it out, but she'd insisted, and it was becoming burdensome. John and Maeve began making their way towards the village, their chatter muffled the further away they got. Turning on her heel, Susie began to return to her hut, before the sudden sound of approaching footsteps caught her attention.

DeMarco was walking beside her, hands in his pockets. "Walk you back?"

"And abandon your dog? Shame on you."

He shrugged. "Meatball's been all over Buck, he'll be fine. That dog's a goddamn traitor."

She chuckled. "He's going through the rebellious teenager phase - wants anyone except his dad."

"No one told me parenthood would be this hard, y'know," Benny joked, a flash of teeth peeking through his lopsided smile. "Your hand feelin' ok?"

Susie lifted the hand she'd used to punch the pilot, a twinge of pain making her wince slightly as she flexed her knuckles. DeMarco reached out to gently hold it, peering down at the bruising already blooming across the back of her palm. "It was a damn good swing, I'll give you that," He admitted, and she let out a chuckle.

Neither spoke for a moment, until he broke the silence once more. "Hey, what'd you mean when you said you're 'already on second chances'?"

"Ah," Susie nodded. "Well, that's where the reputation comes from. A while ago, before you Yanks got here, I got in an argument with an RAF officer - headbutted him so hard I broke his nose. I nearly got fired, but now everyone who's been around long enough knows about it, they think I've got a screw loose or summat."

"No shit - are you serious?"

"As the plague."

DeMarco let out a long, low whistle. "Y'know, I just assumed it was 'cause you're..."

"A grumpy old bitch?"

"Yeah, that," He agreed, letting out a guffaw as she punched him in the shoulder. "Hey! You said it, not me!"

"Prick," Susie smirked, shaking her head. The officers' club wasn't far from the ATS huts, and it wasn't long before they reached her door. Pulling Maeve's hat out from under her arm, she placed it atop her head, jokingly tipping it to him in goodbye as she fumbled for her keys. "Well, if I still have a job tomorrow I'll see you around."

"You will," DeMarco nodded. "And hey, if they try to fire you, I'll tell 'em you're essential for dog-sitting purposes."

"Oh yeah, my main calling in life," She shook her head, smiling as the lock clicked and she swung the door open. "G'night DeMarco."

"Y'know, you're allowed to call me Benny."

Her expression contorted in a grimace, clearly not a fan of the nickname. "I think I'm good."

"Jesus Christ," He muttered. "Go to bed, Susie, just get outta my sight."

With one last laugh, she slipped inside, vanishing as the door swung shut behind her, leaving him alone in the darkness. Smirking to himself, he shoved his hands into his pockets, beginning the long walk back to his bunk.

#masters of the air #masters of the air oc #bernard demarco #bernard demarco x oc #mota oc #masters of the air fic #mota fic #fic | better off #oc: susie #john egan

56 notes · View notes

behoright · 2 years ago

Text

beside you, somehow (love countdown series) l a. svechnikov

but you've got stars in your eyes / and I've got something missing tonight

summary: part 7 ! our smitten besties travel to Chicago for the first stop of the roadie!

wordcount: 4.6k

song: what a feeling - one direction because I know so many of you are former 1D girlies

warnings: fluff, fluff, fluff. soft andrei being in loooooove and confused. mentions of sex and just him being a horny mess.

a/n: I don’t love this chapter. ugh. in better news, I'm super excited for the next one..... tell me what you guys think always!

͏ �� ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ꪆ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏𔘓 ⠀ ⠀ .

Andrei’s eyes opened at the feeling of the light seeping through the window. He ran his fingers slowly on the bed, feeling the now empty spot next to him.

Did he dream last night? Did you leave? Did he scare you off?

All of his worries were interrupted by the smell of breakfast coming from the kitchen. He thought if he walked out and he saw you cooking, he didn’t think he could have repressed his feelings for you anymore. After last night, he felt like he was floating. Completely in love with you.

Rubbing his eyes, he noticed your suitcase, opened in the room. A bra left neatly folded on top of your clothes. It looked like the same one he caught a glimpse of the day before.

Great. It was like the universe was playing tricks on him.

As much as he wanted to spring out of bed and go find you, he was once again, faced with a tent in his pants. He laid back on the mattress again, all of the memories flooding his head again. The game, the dinner, the tickling. And his dream. The dream of you bouncing up and down on his cock, with your head thrown back. He couldn’t shake the feeling of it.

Well, all this was definitely not helping his situation.

Sighing, he sat up and looked at the closed door, before swiftly tucking his hard cock under the elastic waistband of his sweats. This was going to have to do until he had a chance of hopping in the shower to have some alone time.

When he walked out, Andrei studied you for a few seconds before you realized his presence. Seeing you in his kitchen, making breakfast and dancing along to your own tune, made his heart flutter. He imagined for a second what it would be like to see this every day. To have the capacity of simply wrapping his arms around you every morning, being able to bend you over his kitchen island if he wanted to. To not wake up alone, but especially, to wake up next to you.

“Good morning” he walked up to you, hands in his pockets, hoping his arousal wasn’t showing through.

“Oh! You scared me!” you said, clutching your chest.

Andrei laughed as he got closer. You looked so beautiful at that moment, with your bedhead and wearing a big shirt that barely covered your ass.

Fuck it, he thought.

He let his hand slip around your waist, the other one finding its way in your hair, placing your head on his chest.

“You okay?” he asked quietly.

“Mm-hmm.” you wrapped your hands around him and rubbed his back, relishing in his warmth. The tips of your nails running up and down his back make him melt more into you.

“Yeah? Did you sleep well?”

Andrei discreetly inhaled your scent, positioning his nose at the top of your head. He felt so good that he almost planted a kiss there.

And he really, really hoped you couldn’t feel how hard he was under the band of his sweatpants.

“Thank you for moving me to the bed.” you looked up at him, your bodies still in embrace. There was no way he was letting go of your head. Your eyes are bright, deeply locked with his.

“You remember?”

Andrei was trying his hardest not to caress your soft hair.

“A little bit. I remember asking you to stay.” your face flushed.

“You did ask me that, didn’t you?” Andrei raised his eyebrows at you, face just as red as yours.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, or anything like that. I-”

“Hey. It’s okay. I don’t mind it.” he said.

“You sure?”

“I love to spend time with you, Y/N.”

Andrei’s gaze locked on your lips. You were still fixated on him. He didn’t know if this was the right moment. He could have tried it but, perhaps ruining a friendship the day they were leaving for a trip wasn’t the right move. But then, the way you were staring at him, studying his face, with your bottom lip tucked tightly in your mouth. Your body felt so small in his hands, so soft and warm, and Andrei didn’t want to let go. He looked at you, intensely; maybe, just one kiss, to see ho-

“Oh god, it’s burning!”

Just like that, your body was ripped away from him, right as the smell of burning food overwhelmed his senses. You laughed, moving the pan with some very well done french toast away from the flame.

“Are you trying to set my house on fire?” Andrei joked around, doing his best at hiding how flustered he was after the moment you just had together.

“Sorry!” you covered your face. “You distracted me, you know?”

“And how exactly did I do that?” he teased.

“Seriously?”

His arms wrapped around you once more, now brave enough to kiss your forehead.

“Just a little longer before we have to get ready to go.” he said, turning his cheek onto the top of your head again, as your bodies were fully touching. “Just a bit longer.”

Best friends don’t do this. But after all, I don’t want her as a friend, he thought.

͏ 🫙 ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ꪆ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏𔘓 ⠀ ⠀ .͏ 🫙 ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ꪆ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏𔘓 ⠀ ⠀ .͏ 🫙 ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ꪆ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏𔘓 ⠀

“How long is our flight, Drei?”

More than half of the team was waiting in line at Chipotle. Ever since you got to the airport, Andrei made sure to keep a close eye on you to make sure you were comfortable.

“About 2 hours. Chicago is not too far.” he answered with a smile.

Andrei swore you were making the eyes at him a little bit extra since last night. That, or he was feeling much more confident with all of this. Either way, he’d take it. He had never felt so warm, and relaxed on a team roadie before.

You looked so soft and cozy in your white loungewear, opting for something more comfortable than the team, who always dressed to the nines for travel. Andrei dreamed about spending a Saturday off with you, lounging and cuddling on the couch. Maybe even fucking the whole day, the sun peering through his curtains to show off your naked curves under him.

Just the thought of it gave him an uncontrollable impulse to grab your face and make you his already.

Yeah. Maybe a chain restaurant wasn’t the right place to do that for the first time either.

He just simply couldn’t stop staring at you, even when you were doing something so banal as ordering your food.

He loved how kindly you treated everyone - he realized he had never appreciated how gentle you were with everyone you met, unlike his entitled “I’m dating an NHL player” exes.

Before you could get your card too close to the chip reader, Andrei finished his order and swooped close to you.

Another bold move, he thought, but maybe not really, considering you just slept together in the same bed not that long ago.

He quickly got behind you, one hand delicately placed on the small of your back, while the other tapped his card on the reader.

“Hey! What are you doing, crazy?”

Your faces were dangerously close as you looked at him, smirking.

“You’re on a team trip. I am not going to make you pay for anything, Y/N.”

“I know, I know, but it’s just some food, Drei! I have money, you know.” you raised your eyebrows at him, his face still peering over your shoulder, bodies close together.

“Do not worry, okay? See, it’s done already.” he said, eyes finally peeling off the reader and meeting yours.

As you whispered a thank you, the urge almost overtook Andrei, his gaze finding your lips easily.

“C’mon, lovebirds, you’re holding up the line!”

“You either kiss quickly or we lose our flight.”

The young player kicked himself for forgetting the whole team was with them.

God, his mind was so hazy around you sometimes.

“Shut up!” he yelled, a bit too loudly. “I am.. so sorry. Here, I help you, let’s go.”. He rushed to grab the bag and lead you away from the guys before they could say anything else.

The whole team erupted in quiet laughs and smirks, as they followed the couple walking away, and Andrei subtly flipped them off, face now a whole different shade.

“I’m sorry, they are just-”

“Andrei. It’s okay. They’re just boys” you smiled at him, shrugging.

He knew she was right. They were just messing around, they didn’t know anything.

They only knew how he really felt about you.

͏ 🫙 ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ꪆ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏𔘓 ⠀ ⠀ .͏ 🫙 ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ꪆ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏𔘓 ⠀ ⠀ .͏ 🫙 ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ꪆ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏𔘓 ⠀ ⠀

“I am… capable of carrying things, you know that right?” you smirked at the flustered player, who was doing his best to balance his suitcase, and yours, his backpack, and the bags of food.

“What? No, I know. It’s just… you are my guest. So I make you feel comfortable.” he replied, kindly.

He hoped he wasn’t making a fool of himself. But you could see how hard he was trying for you. So when you got onto the tarmac, right before getting on the plane, you placed your hand on his strong shoulder.

“Andrei, honey, let me grab the food, at least. Here.” you extended your arm out and looped your fingers under the handles of the bags, slightly pulling.

…honey.

Andrei couldn’t recall any time before you had called him a pet name.

No, he knew. He would definitely remember that.

He kept his gaze low, a feeble attempt at hiding his smile, as you guys stepped on the plane.

He walked in first, making sure to widen his eyes at the guys that were already sitting around, chatting.

He meant it - no funny business. He should have talked to them before.

They all seemed to get the hint, nevertheless, trying their best to hide their smirks and winks, keeping their conversations going.

“Here okay?”

“Wherever you usually sit.” you shrugged.

Andrei chucked and placed your bags in the overhead.

You couldn’t help but stare at the way his biceps so easily moved the suitcase above his head, his back flexing, showing through the white button-up of his suit.

“Ready to eat?” he turned, flashing you a grin.

The feeling of your eyes on him as he moved just added to the already growing confidence that kept rising within. Luckily, you didn’t notice he noticed.

“So, you guys don’t feel silly traveling with full-on tuxes every week?” you asked, fork digging into your bowl.

Martin, Seth, and Sebastian, who were sitting around you and Andrei, quickly looked up at their teammate.

“Woah, Andrei, you weren’t lying when you said she’s feisty.”

Andrei waited for that familiar look to appear on your face.

His smile immediately got bigger when you turned to him, mouth open, and shoved your shoulder against his.

“Woah! What did you tell your friends?” you asked, eyes wide.

Andrei couldn’t get any words out, opting to raise his hands instead, shoulders up to his ears.

“I like it - you’re funny.” Neci chimed in, saving the day for the blushing Russian.

“They’re not tuxes!” Sebastian rolled his eyes.

“I mean, I’m serious! It’s not uncomfortable to travel in suits all the time?” you chuckled.

“Many times, these are the clothes that fit us the best.” Seth said. “We hockey players, we have weird bodies. Our thighs don’t fit into anything.”

“I like to get ready. We obviously know what your plans for this flight are, considering how comfortable you look.” Andrei added, mouth full of food.

“Oh, as soon as I’m done here I’m going to knock. out.” you laughed, only looking at him.

The guys all side-eyed each other, doing their best to keep quiet.

It was like they weren’t even there.

“You want to know a secret? There’s always a pull-out bed on the plane. I can show you.”

Andrei said, looking up at you.

“Yeah, Andrei can show you where the bed is.”

All 5 heads snapped towards the aisle. Of course.

Andrei did his best not to punch his teammate’s arm, who was leaning on his seat.

“I’m Jesperi. Nice to meet you.” the young guy extended his arm, past Andrei’s face, to introduce himself.

He didn’t know what this feeling was. Something Andrei hadn’t felt in a long time.

A rumbling in his stomach, tightening in his chest. He noticed his knuckles turning white, the grip around his fork getting stronger.

Something about KK holding his arm out in front of Andrei’s face, so close to him, crossing him, reaching out to you made his temples twitch.

Was he… jealous?

He really needed to get it together. His friend was only introducing himself…right?

Andrei’s gaze snapped up to his teammate as you shook his hand, his jaw unwillingly clenched.

“I didn’t see you before we got on the plane, I don’t think.” you added.

Neci subtly kicked Andrei under the retrievable table they were all eating on, noticing the tension in his friend’s body.

“Oh, this psycho opted for a burger instead of Chipotle.” Martin chirped, raising his eyebrows at Andrei.

The scrunching of your face let Andrei’s body relax for a second.

“That should tell you everything you need to know about him, Y/N. He’s not okay in here.” Andrei grinned while tapping on your forehead. It got the most beautiful sound in the world out of you. There’s nothing he loved more than to hear you laugh.

“I don’t trust anyone who doesn’t eat Chipotle. It should always be a first-round pick.” you answered with a wink at Andrei, grabbing his finger and gently holding it while placing it under the table.

All the guys looked at each other, while Jesperi struggled to get any chirps out.

Andrei smiled at his friends before turning back to his bowl, your hand still wrapped around his.

Win.

Andrei looked at you, now facing the airplane window beside you. You were illuminated perfectly by the reflection of the vanishing sun. He thought about kissing you once again. Most of the guys were sitting with their friends, quietly chatting, or sleeping. It would have not taken much of him to turn you around, lock eyes with you, and touch your lips with his.

He wanted to let himself go in your presence, in your body. The lust he felt was simply that. A desire to be swept away in you, inside you, within your aura, your body.

The feeling of your head gently bumping his shoulder snapped him out of his daydreams. He took a peek at you, soundly asleep on his arm. He dared to linger his fingers on your other hand, which you moved to his thigh. Andrei looked forward, taking a deep breath for the millionth time in the past week. Seeing your delicate touch so close to him, close to the center of his want for you, drove him mad. At the same time, it felt so… comforting. It made him feel present, accounted for, and appreciated. Your hand was letting him know I see you, I feel you, and I remember and crave your touch even as I sleep.

He adjusted your head, wrapping his arm around you and placing you in his embrace, before letting sleep and bliss take him into slumber.

The team got to the hotel as the stars were just starting to appear in the sky. Andrei didn’t let go of your suitcase once, not after you got off the plane, nor when you got to the hotel, no matter how much you insisted. He walked steadily beside you, guiding you through the usual steps of his routine. Plane, bus, hotel, room.

Room. Room. To his shock, as you walked into your room, there was only one bed.

“Uh..”

“Maybe the other one is the couch?” you asked, raising your hands.

“No, no. There’s definitely a mistake. Let me call the front desk.” As he picked up the phone, he noticed his fingers were clammy. Life really felt like it was playing tricks on him.

“It’s okay if they can’t change it, Drei. I mean, we’ll figure it out.” you said, as he waited for the hotel manager. Andrei smirked. Did you want to sleep together? he thought.

“Calm down, calm down. I’m just saying, you know, if, if, there’s no rooms or something.” you said, noticing his grin. You looked down at your lap, totally embarrassed by your suggestion. Andrei loved to see you flustered, in those rare moments he could rattle you.

“The manager said they’ll change our room before tonight. Want some food?” he asked, extending his arm out at you.

“Let’s go” you grinned.

Andrei’s chest puffed as he walked you downstairs, hand in hand with you.

He totally had this in the bag.

“Have a drink with me.”

You raised your eyebrows at him.

“Don’t we have stuff to do tomorrow?”

“Yeah, but I’m not playing. It’ll just be team stuff, you know.” Andrei smirked.

“Just one?”

“Just one.” he shrugged.

While waiting for the room to be changed, Andrei offered to invite you to dinner at the restaurant in the hotel. This was the best opportunity for him to have you all to himself, at least for a little while, before you guys started all of the team activities in the following days.

“Andrei, I barely drink! I wouldn’t even know what to order.” you sighed, looking down at the menu.

“I can pick for you. Just trust me, okay?” he said, accent as thick as ever.

Andrei could have used some alcohol anyways. The thought of possibly spending another night in the same bed as you drove him crazy. He swore his hands were shaking as the waiter handed them their drinks.

“Thank you. Okay, now you try it and then tell me.” he said, taking a sip.

“This tastes too good, Andrei. This is, like, dangerous” you spluttered out, blushing.

“Oh, you’re such lightweight. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.” he laughed.

“Promise?” you asked, looking up at him, straw still in your mouth.

He stuck his pinky out at you, which you carefully wrapped around his.

You’d never had this much physical contact as friends as you did in the past couple of days. Sure, you hugged and had countless playfights. He thought he could never get enough of this - every time he felt your touch on his skin, Andrei craved more and more. He didn’t want your hand on his shoulder, he wanted it underneath his shirt. He wanted to wrap his body all around yours, let your presence completely physically overtake his senses.

“Promise. I got you, always.” he said, reaching his thumb around to squeeze your hand from across the table. The expression quickly softened on your face, making his heart skip a beat.

“Ready to order?”

The waiter seemed to appear out of nowhere, interrupting Andrei’s plan to perhaps run his fingers down your arm, craving the bliss of your skin under his.

“…what?” you asked him, mouth full of food. He knew he was practically staring at you, as he had the whole trip so far, but he couldn’t help it. Your response elicited a chuckle along with the small blush that spread over his cheeks.

“There’s food all over your face.” he said with a smile.

And that’s when time seemed to still.

Andrei’s arms easily found their way over the table; one of his hands wrapping around the base of your head, intertwining his fingers with your hair. He brought your face up and forward, almost forcing you to look at him. Your heart dropped, the feeling of his fingers already causing heat to pool between your legs. His other hand, armed with a napkin, proceeded to wipe your face, eyes focused on your lips as he cleaned you up.

“There you go. That’s better.” he said. As if that wasn’t enough, his strong hand still firmly gripping the back of your head, Andrei held your chin and swiped his thumb on the corner of your mouth, tracing it over your bottom lip. “There was some, um, something left there.” he quietly said, looking down, as he fully removed his touch from you, scrambling to grab his fork and shove food in his mouth. However, he felt your gaze on him still.

“You’re okay?” he asked, still facing his plate.

“Yes, uh, I’m okay. Thank you, Drei.”

“Yeah, uh, no problem.” he chuckled. His stomach churned at the feeling that he was acting like such an idiot. Maybe he was taking it too far, too fast.

“So, what made you invite me on this trip?” you asked.

“Of course I invite you! You’re my closest friend, Y/N.”

“I am?”

“Yes. I tell you everything.”

Well, not everything, he thought to himself. Not how much he wanted you to be his, only his.

“It means a lot that you want me here, Svech. Thank you. So much.”

Andrei’s eyes fixated on you again. He prayed that you couldn’t hear his heart beating out of his chest.

“I’m not going to lie, I am feeling a little nervous.” he sighed.

“Nervous? I thought you didn’t get nervous.” you smirked.

“I…I want you to have fun. Sometimes I think my life is too different from yours. I think that’s why I haven’t shown you too much. I am going all the time, traveling, playing, and out with the team. I hope you like it, really.” Andrei admitted.

“Oh, Andrei…. we see each other all the time! And we can talk about anything, right? I am really curious to see how it is. I’m super excited, Drei.” you reassured him.

He looked at you, his arms taking up most of the surface in front of him, making his shoulders somehow look even bulkier.

“You tell me if you want to go home, okay?”

“Home?” you asked, taken aback. “Oh, no. You’re not getting rid of me that easily, Svech. I’m freeloading off of you as much as possible this week.” you laughed, and he flicked some water from his straw at you.

He was happy you could cut the tension between them so easily. He thought he had never felt so comforted before.

“For someone who doesn’t drink you finished your drink pretty quick.” he raised his eyebrows at you.

“It was a good drink.” you shrugged, flipping your long hair behind your shoulders. The action made Andrei’s breath change pace, rapidly.

“You…want another one?” he asked.

Your face dropped, shaking your head.

“C’mon, I have one with you. Just one more?” he offered. “You don’t have to, just asking.”

“One more, troublemaker. And then we’re done.”

“Should I go check if our room is ready? It should be by now.” he smirked at you, handing the check back to the waiter.

Two drinks definitely had changed your inhibitions. Andrei could see the flush on your face under your tinted sunscreen, your hair looking more disheveled and overall, a cute giggling he didn’t usually get to see.

“I didn’t know two drinks were going to get you tipsy. Dude, you need to come out with me more.” he said, poking your nose.

“I’m not tipsy! Just really, really sleepy.” you said, looking up at him.

“Let’s go to sleep then. C’mon.”

Andrei stood up, offering you his arm again.

You headed over to the front desk, limbs interlocked together.

“Okay, Mr. Svechnikov, here’s the key to the new room. Have a great night.”

Andrei tried his best to focus on the hotel manager in front of him, even if all he really thought about was your head leaning on his shoulder, arms wrapped around his bicep.

God, how cute.

In the elevator ride up, he realized how much he liked to see you so close to him. You looked like a couple. Like a real couple. The reflection in the mirror showing him what it would really look like if you became his.

He really, really could get used to this.

Head totally in the clouds, he didn’t notice Martinook and Staal walking towards him, at the opposite end of the hallway when they reached their floor.

Andrei nodded at them, hoping they’d get the hint to just keep walking.

They mostly did, except for Jordan, who gently stopped him, whispering in his ear.

“I heard about the room and talked to the lady for you. You’re so welcome.” he winked, and just like that, kept going, not daring to look back at his younger teammate.

What?

Oh.

Oh no, oh no, oh no.

Andrei scrambled to open the hotel door, your body still wrapped around his arm, clueless.

There it was.

One bed.

A bigger bed, for sure, but just one, singular mattress.

“Shit.” he whispered, running a hand through his hair.

The hotel workers even managed to set their suitcases in the closet already.

“Oh, Svechy, who cares. Let’s just go to sleep.” you said, softly, walking backward before falling onto the comforter.

Andrei was dumbstruck. Frozen. Staring at you, splayed out on his bed.

One random night was very different than a whole week.

“Is that okay with you?” you sat up on your elbows, extending one arm towards him.

“Uh, yes. It’s okay. Yeah, it’s fine.” he walked slowly towards you, melting as he grabbed your hand.

Good, you whispered, looking up at him, rubbing your thumb against his hand.

Your head fell back onto the bed, hard.

“Andrei, it’s so soft! I didn’t know you guys traveled this comfortably” you giggled.

“You’re just drunk, Y/N” he shook his head.

“Am. Not!” you said, throwing a pillow at his head.

“Woah, woah. This might not be the best move for you right now.” Andrei laughed, poking at your ribs.

“You just say that because you know I’m already getting stronger than you.”

“Ha!” he realized he was at a loss for words, seeing you laying down all flushed in front of him.

“Whatever you say, drunky.”

As he walked towards the bathroom, Andrei took a deep breath. Just the night before, he had cum in his pants from just a dream. He really couldn’t mess this up, let you see him like that - it would have ruined everything.

A plan, a plan.

He didn’t have one.

Cold showers, he guessed. A lot of blankets. And bathroom breaks.

He huffed, before opening the door. All the tension left him as he saw you curled up in the middle of the bed, sound asleep.

He wanted to wrap his arms around you, and kiss you all over until his eyes felt heavy.

Instead, he swooped your body in his arms and tucked you under the blankets. Again. And that cozy feeling spread all throughout his chest again.

“You’re such a good friend, Svech.”

A friend. Oof. Her sentence felt like a punch in the gut. Andrei leaned down and kissed your forehead.

Before he could head back into the bathroom, your arms leaned out to grab him.

“Another one.” you mumbled.

Andrei proceeded to plant another kiss by your hairline, inhaling the scent of your shampoo.

His heart beating overtime.

Were these mixed signals? Was he just confused?

Maybe you were just tipsy, and that’s why you were so touchy. Even though… he thought you had been like that for the past two days, completely sober.

Wait it out. See what happens.

That’s what his brother would tell him. So he caressed your hair, and moved to get ready for bed. He’d wait it out, he thought, your arms wrapping around him as he got into bed.

What he didn’t know was that this was going to go a lot better than he could have ever imagined.

#andrei svechnikov #andrei svechnikov x reader #andrei svechnikov fic #andrei svechnikov imagine #nhl imagine #nhl fic #nhl #carolina hurricanes

169 notes · View notes

sgtbradfords · 2 years ago

Note

Chenford + why didn't you tell me

Tim blinked slowly once, twice as he listened to the statement fall past his girlfriends lips. He could feel his lips pull apart as his mouth fell agape, the brow above his eyes, creasing.

"What the hell are you talking about?" perhaps his question came out a little more crass than he intended. "I didn't think it was necessary for me to tell you!"

Lucy stared back at him, her arms crossed over her chest, from where she where she stood a safe, six feet away from him. "Baby," she lowly sighed. "You have all the signs of a cold, which means you are sick."

"I don't get sick." Never had Tim let an early spring cold, stop him before.

"Really?" she questioned with an incredulous look before she turned around to walk towards the bathroom.

"Fine, but I'm not contagious."

Her voice was muffled as she responded, "Colds are contagious and you kissed me."

Tim looked towards the bathroom door, listening as objects were shuffled around in the small space before his stare caught sight of Lucy, walking back into the room.

So what his throat was scratchy, and his nose stuffy, and a throbbing sensation was ever present inside his his skull.

"Am I not allowed to kiss my girlfriend?"

"Not on the lips when you're sick!" she chided as though it was the most obvious fact in the universe.

Tim had been standing in her apartment for no more than five minutes and ok, ok fine. So maybe she did have a point, and maybe he shouldn't have taken ten seconds upon walking in through her front door, to passionately kiss her on the lips.

He could have kissed her on the forehead or the cheek or-

"Tim, go home."

Her voice was tender, loving, but that didn't stop his frown from deepening.

Lucy stepped forward, setting a series of small, foil packages onto the countertop between them before resting her palm against the chilled stone.

"Take one set from each pack when you get home and then call me, ok?"

Tim blinked, once, twice as his gaze flitted from the pill packs in front of him, to the soft and sweet face of his girlfriend. "You're kicking me out?"

Lucy worried her bottom lip in between her teeth, closing the gap that stood in between them as her hand touched the fabric of his upper arm. "I'm kicking you out of my bed," with that, he looked as though someone had kicked their dog. "And we both know how much you hate sleeping on the couch, baby."

For a few seconds Tim weighed the statement.

"It'll just be for tonight." she attempted to reassure but a part of her sounded hesitant about him leaving.

She didn't have to kick him out of her bed, but she didn't have to allow him in it either. And her navy sofa was more fashionable than sensible which to a man of his stature, left Tim more often than not with a crick in his neck and a discomfort in his lower back on the evenings they would fall asleep there.

With a grumble Tim relented, retrieving the pill packs from the countertop and sliding them into his pants pocket. Glumly he refrained from kissing her before leaving, but he attempted to make up for the loss of her lips slotting against his, by allowing the touch of his palm in hers, to linger.

Tim wishes he could say he fell asleep the moment his body crashed against his mattress, but even with the ample dosages of cold medicine coursing its way through his veins, sleep was futile that night.

The next night, Tim made the executive decision that he wasn't spending another night away from his girlfriend. Sure, they had exchanged countless text messages and they had seen one another at work earlier that morning, but it just wasn't the same.

He was still consuming cold medicine around the clock, but ultimately he was feeling somewhat better. So after signing off at the end of shift, Tim worked on getting a bag packed for him and Kojo for the night, firing off a text to Lucy that her boys would be over in twenty before jokingly following it up with a 'you're not kicking me out again'.

It wasn't ten minutes later when the chime of the doorbell, echoed throughout the house.

Tim frowned.

He wasn't expecting company but he ambled over to the door anyways, checking the other side through the peephole just below eye level.

"Luce?" he questioned upon opening the door. "What are doing here?"

Lucy stood on the stoop before him, the blanket from the back of her couch, wrapped tightly over her shoulders and around her body. In the low light that filtered in from behind him, he could tell that she looked like shit.

He took a step back, allowing her entry but instead of moving further into his house, she pointed her index finger into his chest.

"You're an asshole!"

"What did I do!" Tim was quick to defend as he thought back over everything that had been exchanged in the last day.

"I am now sick, because of you."

Oh.

"I don't think a cold can spread that fast, but-" the rest of his statement was cut off by Lucy opening her arms and subsequently the extra large blanket, to encompass him in a hug.

"And you, are going to make it up to me."

He pressed his lips against the crown of her head, his arms winding around the blanket that covered the small of her back as the subtle scent of her conditioner reaching his nose caused him to smile. "How do you expect me to do that, baby?"

Already in his head, was Tim forming a game plan.

Filling up the humidifier in his bedroom. Making sure her tea supply in his kitchen pantry was well stocked with a variety of flavors. Adding a restock of tissues and cold medicine to his online grocery cart.

"I was thinking we could start by watching some TV on the couch." she mumbled against his chest before raising her head to meet his gaze, the move cause an ever present warmth in his chest when it came to her, to grow.

He could put his game plan into action, later.

"I couldn't think of a better way to spend the night."

If things continued the way they were, Tim knows there wouldn't be a better way to spend the rest of his life.

#fanfic #chenford fic #chenford fanfic #the rookie fic #chenford

77 notes · View notes

not-alien-girl-v · 10 months ago

Text

Immaculate Eggception (K.A.)

warning: like everything. it’s graphic. don’t read it.

note: happy birthday grayson!!!

⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:*⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

It was a dark and stormy night. Kai Anderson’s blue hair clinged to the sides of his face due to the rain. The power hadn’t gone out yet, but he knew it was soon to leave. The car rolled to a stop in the driveway. He turned the headlights off, shifted the car into park and pulled the handbrake. Pulling his hood up for cover, he ran through the quick journey from the car to the front door.

Winter is almost over, just 8 more days, and the snow has abandoned the earth, but the raging showers of spring are becoming prematurely present. Kai knows this day above all else. Today is the 11th of March, which, to the cult, might as well be Christmas.

Claire lied sleeping on the couch in the basement. It was crummy, and smelled rather stale, but she considered herself lucky to not be locked up at the moment. A restless sleep on a gross couch is better than nothing. Violet and Levi had already prepared in accordance with the annual ritual; they had bathed in the blood of a newborn calf and dressed themselves in white silk from head to toe. They had already made their way to the ‘bomb shelter’ in the basement. They were ready to fulfill their roles.

Kai pounced into the kitchen, ripped out a metal tray and plapped a heap of slop and a bountiful serving of gruel upon it. He drizzled a sedative atop the serving to ease the pain. As a cult leader, he found himself able to hook himself up with pharmaceutical connections, and at this point in time, he could probably get any medicine on the market for a fraction of the price with no prescription.

Carrying it down the stairs, he could hear the whimpering cries already. He reached the basement, eyed Claire in her sleep and wondered if for only a moment, she understood the severity of the situation. Sure, she understood what happens on this day every year from a surface level, but was she aware of the personal impact she’s made on it? Does she ever feel guilt? Remorse? Anything at all? He regarded the door, metal, solid, heavy, and stable. Padlocked shut and lock chained together. There was hardly any getting in or out.

That is, if you’re not Kai Anderson. He took out the key, which he kept on a necklace chain around his neck. This was his dirty little secret; a guilty pleasure, if you will.

The room was essentially a prison cell. Ironically enough, all other months of the year, this pocket of the house is utilized as a storage closet for cleaning products, board games, old clothes, all the things that fall through the cracks in a house.

He unlocked the door, seeing Levi and Violet inside. There was a bare mattress on the floor in the corner, greasy, and bloodstained. The chains of his shackles rang throughout the room as he pulled at his restraints. It was time.

“Cluck cluck, my silly little goose,” Kai spoke to the man on the floor, on the brink of something big. Something unnatural.

You see, it wasn’t always this way.

Grayson was a devoted member of the cult, once upon a time. However, the cult eventually fell on hard times. It started during a lethal snowstorm. The cult was snowed into this very house, with little rations left as the long, unrelentingly cold days dragged on.

They were quick to turn to cannibalism, as Claire had contracted a deadly influenza, seemingly on the brink of death. It would be quick. It would be easy. And they would never have to speak of it again.

But Grayson, with his heart of gold, could not stand to see a poor girl be eaten by hungry cult members, not when he had a valuable secret to share.

Though, if he knew where it would lead him, he would have let her die that fateful day.

He informed Kai, in the most straightforward and simple way, that it’s a health condition. He was born with it. An issue in his hormones or a problem with his chromosomes. Whatever the cause was, the result was undeniable: Grayson had the freakish ability to lay eggs.

No, they were never fertilized, as he had yet to lose his virginity. He oftentimes feared to see the outcome of seeing one large, cream colored egg hatch open, some sort of eldritch horror residing inside. But that will never happen, at the rate of things now.

Had he told anyone else of his ability, he would have been fine. He probably would have been on a beach in Cabo by now. But that’s not what happened.

At first, his condition was seen as a gift from above. He was sacred, his body was sacred; Grayson expected to be treated like a king. For a time, he was. For as long as the harsh winter went on, he was given the highest treatment. It almost felt as though he himself was the divine ruler.

But then, winter ended. Grocery trips were made, food was bountiful and plentiful, yet Kai still demanded eggs. Something about the taste, the texture, actually seeing them ooze out of Gray’s body. It was exhilarating. Addicting. Kai was not willing to give it up.

Gray tried to refuse but there’s no saying no to Kai. In fact, Kai preferred it when Gray resisted. He perceived the entire experience as wildly erotic, and Kai is known for not containing his lustful desires.

Gray moaned in agony mixed with a foreign pleasure. Violet gasps, “it’s nearly time now, divine ruler. Take your place. You won’t want to miss this.”

Today the time has come for Grayson's monthly expulsion. Or rather, his holy event of bringing to light God’s great gift of hard-shelled wombs, his eggs. To perfect this portion of the ritual, Kai takes the step of turning on the song ‘Amber’ by American rock band from Omaha, Nebraska, 311. Tears slipped from Gray’s eyes at the sound of this dreaded song.

Every month, Gray birthed exactly 12 eggs; round, smooth, perfect, delicious as could be. The pushing of Gray’s devilishly yokeish yolks brought the greatest arousal to Kai's downstairs area. Gray's naked, shackled writhing on the floor exposes the first of approximately twelve round bumps portruding out of right above his crotch area. His pussy, if you will.

“It begins.” Kai enunciated. “Keep his legs open. I have a feeling the eggs will need more musty air.” On the side, Kai manufactured musty air out of a special air concoction from his suspicious encloves.”Hm. Spread them right against the wall. My musty air will allow his joints great flexibility. That birthful pussy needs to be open tonight.”

Vi and Levi spread and bolted Gray’s legs against the wall as he screamed in agony. The musk air Kai exuded didn’t really help all that much. He thinks it just rebuilt his torn muscles and ligaments so he’d be stuck in prime egg laying position for the rest of his life. Or a day. Gray arched his back in exhilarating pain. On the wall he looked like a masterpiece, Kai thought, a Renaissance work that sunk ecstacy deep into all of Kai’s bones. A twisted, dark, dirty crucifix; Jesus dying on the cross to birth lustful sins.

The rounded shape of the egg parting his vessel to be squeezed out into the world was all too familiar and anticipatory for Gray; in its accompaniment of fear and thrill at the same time. In its meaning for him as the only event that takes place in his life anymore. In that it is different every time, but still predictable. The first egg was always the hardest, the shield of the rest of his batch. Kai would fry them all the same though. That fact doesn’t help the egg push out faster.

Kai watches the glistening egg emerge out from Gray’s tunnel. To him, the first is always the most exhilarating, getting him truly revved up for the show to come. And come it did. Gray panted and clenched, and the egg popped out into the soft nest laid under Gray. “Aaahhhhnnhhhmmm…” Kai keened. He arched his back on instinct, pushing himself towards Gray and his first egg of the month. He glanced at it for a second for cracks, then eagerly drew his view up Gray’s blushing nether region to see the next egg. “Hahhhh…Oh?”

Instead of the usual one special egg coming out at a time, Kai could see something better. Doubly better. The round peaks of two small eggs peeked out of his clucking comrade, side by side. Two eggs. At once. His eyes widened in awe and dirty curiosity for the feeling of two eggs being pushed out at the same time from Gray.

“Whuh…what is it..?” Gray could feel something odd, or perhaps, even, in himself this time. Kai drops down on the floor to his knees and arms, but with his ass up and legs opening, a dangerous, dirty downward dog pose that he usually only pulled out after Gray’s fifth or seventh egg.

“Cuckoo cuckoo, my goopingful goose, for it is true that there’s about to come two.” Pant. “At once. Two eggs.” Kai’s voice trembled in excitement.

“Eeuuugrrrgghhh…” Yeah, Gray could definitely feel the two clinging eggs now. Pushing them out intact would be a bit hard. He couldn’t even spread his legs any further or you’d be able to perfectly fit a pizza against him at its side after 5-6 slices had been taken out of it.

Kai was groaning and whining while he could see the shape of the eggs mold Gray’s hole to a shape resembling infinity. It reminded him that that was how long Gray would be laying eggs for him by his own command, and he moaned even more gutturally. The eggs stretched Gray out, trying so hard to slip past his sucking barrier. Kai reveled in how Gray let out breathy, pleading moans at the stretch. He panted haard and heaved, and the eggs finally popped out [Pop bop!] in near unison. They landed wetly into their nest. His goose contributed to their wetness a little more, and Kai could just feel his blood rushing everywhere throughout his pleased body.

After that, it was easy for the eggs to just keep coming. A fourth, and Gray shuddered in violent thrill. A fifth, and Kai twisted his head to breathe in the future taste of the eggs. Sixth egg, halfway, and Gray could feel the devil calling, pushing and pushing him to the edge. Seventh, eighth, Kai took off his shirt to expose his inked cult devotion, and gyrated his crotch against the lust-filled air.

By the ninth slippery wet plop, Gray felt the agonizingly arousing tension coming to a peak. At the tenth, Kai felt his resistance doing the opposite. Egg number ten was suspiciously easy to pop out, its moderate size seeming smaller from the unusually wide stretch and hollow exhale of Gray’s hole. It was as if the egg was being pushed out rapidly by something bigger schlicking its way through his tunnel. It made Kai lick his lips, thrust his hips. He could feel that shit coming alright.

Gray’s tunnel was absurdly widened in its middle, but his actual displayed hole seemed like it had been closed more. Kai didn’t know how he didn’t notice it before, but now nearing Gray’s exit, the large average foot-sized bulge was impossible to ignore. (“ore” ass) This could only mean one thing. His scandalous little egg birther had become pollinated with wet life. Immediately Kai’s interested nipples hardened and peaked.

In his head, Kai tsked disapprovingly. No one should have had, could have had, come in his strong room to spread their seed and fertilize Grayson’s exclusive delicious eggs. He told himself he was conflicted on whether Gray really birthing an egg was enticing or not. But he knew his true answer. Either way, he’d have to wait until Gray squelched it out fully.

“Mmmmh. Come on my gray little goose. Take your time, except I wanna see how this big egg of yours oozes. Tick tock, my birthing cock.” Kai twitched his eyebrows and sniffed Gray’s heat further. Gray shivered, and then Kai could see the beginnings of a round brown egg through his ummm pussy. Kai gasped, and moaned “Hooohhhuuuhhhhhahh…” Just the visible surface of the egg was already as wide as his fist. Drool dripped down the corners of Kai’s mouth. Gray slurped up the drool that tried to escape from his own. He’d never laid an egg this large before; didn’t even feel it until it was about to come out now. It was zapping all the electric dirty parts of his body. He panted moistly into the humid air, and clenched himself. But this only made the egg go back inside him.

“NH-..NO! NO!” Kai yelped.

“FUCK!” shouted Gray. “JESUS,” Although he wasn’t sure he’d listen to him, “It- It’s fucking ..mmh! Coming out, o-okay? God, I’m…” But Kai didn’t get to know what he’m. For Gray’s face tightened up, and Gray’s hole widened open. He tilted his hips forward, and the wide tip of the egg began to breach the confines of Gray’s sensitive muscles.

Kai watched in reverence for his goose, witnessed the holy meal his angel was expelling into the dark world. More valuable than a golden egg, laid by a fantasy goose from a giant’s kingdom in the sky, worth all the riches he could think of. His egg layer squeezed hard, slick dripping out around the rounded brown lump. Gray’s exit had now gotten to meet the widest circumference of the egg, the middle. It was glistening slippery like the rest of it, but the brown was fading into a medium green.

Kai’s mind was going erratic at the sight. His impulses were becoming harder to fight. His member was leaking in how much artwork it craved for more. He couldn’t wait for what round warmth was in store. Coming out of store he means. He dripped with the sweat of lust, and looked deep into Gray’s pleading eyes. “Gray…” He breathily, desperately moaned. “Push it out for me now. Make the egg wetter and bring it out. Listen to your master, my miracled one.”

Gray’s speechless lips smacked together lewdly. (I FUCKING HATE THIS ) He oozed and oozed, squished and clenched harder and harder with Kai’s accelerating heaves, feeling every pleasurable curve of the egg, until…the egg was launched out.

It missed the basket; it landed squarely or roundly in Kai’s awaiting hands. Kai moaned. “AAAAUHGGGHHGG HHHHAAAAAUGGGHHHNNNHHHH…!!!” Gray slumped down, head hanging, inhaling and exhaling shudders from his intensely dirty stimulation. To Gray, the egg was perplexing. Disturbing, because of its blend from pink to green to brown. An unpleasant gradient, that instead of knocking at his door, had come out of his own exit.

To Kai, the egg was the most exhilarating experience he had ever witnessed. He wouldn’t tell Gray, but his nipples were, excitingly, leaking, and his pants were downright wet. The warmth of the egg in his palms…he knew Gray had not been fertilized by another. This was the work of God, and Gray was The Holy Virgin, the angels, Jesus himself maybe, in all his miracles. The scent of the egg made him heady. He got up on his knees and threw his head back, exposing his wet spot although he didn’t care. “HHHRRRRGGGRRRAAAAAAGGGGHHH!!!!!”

Meanwhile, Gray felt one last egg squirt out of his hole briskly, given more ease by his widened tunnel. He heard Kai thrusting the air again and talking about the potent pheromones of his twelfth egg, at which his glimmering egg exuder fluttered.

It was over. Kai gathered all of Gray’s eggs into their egg basket, which had the hair of Gray and Kai woven into it. “Unbolt his legs now. It is over.” With Gray’s bountiful egg batch, he entertained the idea of inserting the eggs into someone else. Someone more naughty than his magnificent egg layer. “Happy Birth day, Gray. Heh heh. Winner winner, chicken dinner. Until we cluck next time.”

⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:*⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

#kai anderson smut #kai anderson imagine #kai anderson fanfiction #kai anderson x y/n #kai anderson x you #kai anderson fluff #kai anderson x reader #kai anderson #evan peters x reader #evan peters x you #evan peters fanfiction #evan peters #evan peters imagine #ahs fanfiction #ahs #ahs cult #ahs cult fanfiction #ahs cult fanfic

6 notes · View notes

lifewithchronicpain · 4 months ago

Text

I just put my new mattress topper on my bed and it’s so comfortable. I can’t feel the springs anymore and I don’t feel like I’m sitting in a sunken pocket. Real test will be how I sleep, but I’m hopeful this will help me get to 3-4 years of use, when it’s better to flip the mattress.

4 notes · View notes

daevastanner · 2 years ago

Text

C H A P T E R N I N E

“And then he gives me a smile that just seems so genuinely sweet with just the right touch of shyness that unexpected warmth rushes through me.”

― Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games

Fifteen years after the ceremony…

Azriel followed Gwyn through the House, his legs having to extend to their full length to keep pace with her. To say she was excited to meet Nesta and Cassian’s newborn was an understatement. Gwyn and Emerie had been almost as eager for the babe as the new parents.

Laughter spilled from the cracked doorway at the end of the sunlit hall and Gwyn tossed a bright smile over her shoulder at Azriel before barreling into the room. He followed after her, an amused smile on his lips as he entered on her heels.

He stepped in just in time to see Gwyn charging towards the bed where Nesta lay, Feyre and Emerie perched on the edge of the mattress beside her. Nesta’s eyes lifted to see Gwyn, the steely blue depths immediately sparkling with tears as her fellow Valkyrie bounded over to sit on the remaining space beside her.

“Look at her!” Gwyn gasped, peering down at the bundle tucked against the eldest Archeron’s chest. “Nesta, she’s beautiful.”

Nesta’s gaze flicked to Azriel who offered her a warm smile of greeting. Something relieved flickered in her eyes, as though she were thanking him for giving her this margin of space. Just as Rhys knew when Gwyn needed a willing ear, and Cassian knew when Feyre had to blow off steam, Azriel was always aware of when Nesta needed space; sometimes going as far as to herd away Emerie and Gwyn during the pregnancy when their attention became too much for her to bear.

Allowing Nesta to bask in the adoration of her sisters, Azriel crossed the bed-chambers to the corner where Rhys and Cassian stood, speaking in hushed but happy voices. Enjoying this moment of peace.

While they’d had no reason to anticipate any complications with Nesta’s pregnancy, Cassian had still been a nervous wreck in recent weeks. One night he’d even sought out Azriel asking if he knew the location of the harp ‘just in case’ something were to go wrong with the delivery. Azriel and Rhys had talked the male down, reminding him that Madja had time and time again confirmed there was no reason to fear the birthing process. Eventually he’d stopped prying for the location of the harp and settled down, but tension had still lurked in the hard line of his mouth these past few weeks.

Today, he was more at ease than Azriel had ever seen him. The smile on his face seemingly permanently etched in place.

“Congratulations, Cas,” Azriel said, joining the two winged males.

Cassian’s gaze flitted from Rhys to Nesta, then to Azriel, his broad grin growing even wider. “Thank you.” His eyes glinted wickedly. “It’s just you and Gwyn and Emerie and Mor without babes now, Az. You better get busy so you can join Rhys, Lucien and myself on the spring father’s trip.”

Ah, yes. After Lucien and Elain had welcomed their first child, Rhys and the High Lord of Spring had begun to bond over ‘fatherhood’ taking yearly retreats together where only ‘fathers’ were permitted. Helion had joined them last year but had said they did too much sleeping and not enough merry-making for him to accompany them again.

“Now that we have another father in the Night Court I may speak with Feyre about weekly Father’s Nights. I’m sure she would appreciate a night out with Nesta each week, rather than once a year as well,” Rhys added.

Azriel shoved his hands in his pockets, shrugging noncommittally. “Perhaps someday.”

Immediately, both Cassian and Rhys’s jovial expressions faded to looks of apology. Azriel angled his head towards a tendril of shadow, confused by the sudden shift in mood.

Pity… Shame…

Rhys did not miss Azriel conferring with the dark plume on his shoulder and lowered his voice, inclining his head slightly. “That was thoughtless of us, Az. We apologize.”

Brows drawing together, Azriel looked from Rhys to Cassian questioningly.

Cassian grimaced leaning in. “We didn’t consider how Gwyn not being Illyrian could complicate things.” He placed a hand on Azriel’s shoulder. “Mor and Emerie were thinking of adopting though. You should talk–”

Azriel shook his head, cutting his brother off. “No, no, we’ve looked into that – we looked into that ages ago. Right after we were mated.”

Both Cassian and Rhysand’s brows rose.

It was Azriel’s turn to lower his voice. “Her water-nymph anatomy has left her with more pliable bones, including her hips. According to Madja, a winged babe is no complication, were we to even have one. Strictly speaking, with Gwyn’s heritage we’ve only got a twenty-percent chance of conceiving a child with wings.”

Both his brothers blinked, then slowly, the smiles spread on their lips again. Azriel leveled them both with a flat look, unsure of what was so amusing.

Rhys raised his palms innocently. “We just had no idea you’d done so much… research, Az.”

“And,” Cassian continued, eyeing the shadowsinger, “if you’re so prepared, what is the hold up?”

Flexing his jaw, Azriel decided to satiate his brother’s curiosity before they could report back to their mates and speculate for themselves. “The ‘hold up’ is that Gwyn has not yet breached the topic. It is not my decision alone.”

Rhys and Cassian exchanged another brief glance and he could tell the both of them were on the same page when the High Lord spoke. “If her bringing it up is the only thing you’re waiting on then you should just ask her.”

“Agreed,” Cassian grunted, nodding his head. “I don’t see why Gwyn has to be the one to suggest it.”

He’d thought about this arrangement so many times, the words left him like a well-rehearsed speech. “Gwyn has barely reached her first half-century and she accepted the mating bond with me when she was not even five and thirty. I have no qualms with waiting to have a child until she is ready. In the meantime, I’m more than happy to busy myself with my nephew and niece.”

Cassian’s lips turned down at the corners in approval. He let his hand fall from Azriel’s shoulder to his side. “That’s awfully thoughtful.”

Azriel looked from the new father to Rhys who remained silent. Poignantly silent, picking at an invisible piece of lint on his sleeve. No, not poignantly. Knowingly.

He knows more, Singer… the shadows crooned.

Fixing the High Lord with a look, Azriel felt himself shift into the spymaster, hunting for clues. “Has she said something to you?”

Continuing to pick at the fabric of his sleeve, Rhys said breezily, “She’s said nothing to me. She didn’t have to.” Finally, he met Azriel’s eyes, the edge of his lip twitching. “But she’s been probing Feyre about our efforts to conceive another child. Asking her how she knew when she could propose the idea of a babe to me.”

Cassian cleared his throat, drawing Azriel’s attention to him. “She was also very inquisitive with Nesta about her pregnancy…”

Absurd. His brother’s were behaving as though they had knowledge, when in fact they had hunches. Hunches based on the simple curiosity that was common of his mate.

Rolling his eyes, Azriel removed one hand from his pocket to run through his windswept hair. “You both know that it is not unusual for Gwyn to be curious about things foreign to her. Not to mention, her compulsion to always be helpful to others.” He shot the both of them stern but not unkind looks, “Gwyn has shown me no desire to have a child yet.”

Cassian and Rhys both met his stern expression with that same infuriating amusement, then glanced behind Azriel to where the Valkyries and Feyre sat.

The edge of Rhys’s lip tipped up in a smug smile, though his eyes remained on the scene over the shadowsinger’s shoulder. “She’s your mate.”

Fighting off a sigh, Azriel followed his brother’s gaze, pivoting to look over at the bed.

What he found made his breath catch in his chest. Made his heart squeeze.

Gwyn sat on the edge of the mattress, holding baby Petra to her chest. Adoration and love shone from her face as she cooed down at the babe while Nesta watched with soft eyes. Azriel’s lips parted in surprise as he briefly replaced Cassian’s daughter with a daughter of his own. Imagining that it was his child Gwyn held. His child’s head that Gwyn pressed her lips to. His child who yawned hugely in his mate’s arms. The shadows on his shoulders shifted and settled.

Nesta’s gaze snapped to Azriel and she gave him a small, knowing smile. Azriel cleared his throat of the emotion that had clogged it, sealing his lips.

Gwyn looked up then, beaming at him and rocking Petra against her chest.

He was struck with such a yearning that his cheeks heated, his heart hammered, his knees threatened to buckle. He felt as though he may swoon.

Returning Gwyn’s smile, he turned back to his brothers – both of which were snickering softly.

Azriel narrowed his eyes, lips pursing. “Enough. We’re supposed to be celebrating Cassian and Nesta’s daughter. Not discussing my bedroom life.”

A beat passed, then Cassian laughed, “Or lack thereof…”

Despite himself, Azriel chuckled, the image of Gwyn holding the babe still dancing in the back of his mind.

___________________

That same night, Azriel set about the kitchen, removing all the pots and pans and stores he needed to make dinner. As he prepared his work station, he found his eyes flitting around the home they’d made in this cottage on the outskirts of Velaris.

Over the years, he and Gwyn had cobbled together a place that felt so innately them. No longer was it a bachelor’s getaway, but the home of a family. His home. Their home.

And there was still room yet for a nursery.

Perhaps.

Eventually.

Maybe soon.

Shaking his head of the thoughts, the shadowsinger began to peel the potatoes before him, then dumped them into the pot of boiling water, already salted – just as his mother had taught him.

Perhaps one day he would teach his child how to cook. Perhaps one day he and his daughter would knead dough together or sprinkle powdered sugar atop pastries.

Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps.

Longing seized his chest, simmering in his gut and creating butterflies that were neither pleasant nor unpleasant.

“Hello.”

Azriel jumped as Gwyn appeared in the room, seating herself on one of the stools on the island across from him.

Her lips twitched. “Did I frighten the Spymaster?”

He chuckled, the fluttering in his stomach ceasing suddenly. “Under my tutelage, you’re already becoming an impressive spy yourself.” A sigh. “And no matter how the years go by, my shadows refuse to make me aware of your movements.”

She hummed, offering the tendrils of darkness on his shoulders a simpering smile. “Well, when do you think dinner will be ready?”

Picking up the dish towel on the counter to dry his hands, Azriel shrugged. “A little over an hour.”

“Good, I’m starving,” she moaned. Azriel snorted as she slumped forward on the counter, elbows propped up so her chin could rest on her fists. “I forgot all about lunch during our visit with Petra.”

The image of her cradling the babe flashed again in his mind. The way her smile had made her eyes crinkle, had made his heart squeeze in answer.

He cleared his throat. “Yes, erm… You were quite enamored with the babe. I didn’t want to interrupt your time with her.”

Color bloomed beneath the freckles of her cheeks, her eyes darting down to the carrots he’d begun cutting. Azriel did her the favor of pretending not to notice.

_____________________

After bathing, Azriel joined Gwyn in their bedroom. She was tucked beneath the covers wearing her lavender nightgown with the tiny straps, reading an enormous book that he recognized as the anthology of mystery stories Rhysand had bought for her last Solstice.

He leaned in the doorframe of the bedroom and for a moment, imagined a child tucked under her arm. One they would read to. He hoped that eventually they would come to love books as much as their mother. A love of reading fostered by Gwyn’s passion for stories.

Sensing his stare, Gwyn’s eyes flitted up from her book. She met his gaze with a smile that sent blood rushing to the shadowsinger’s cheeks. She let the book fall in her lap, exposing the low cut neckline of her nightgown. Azriel’s eyes drifted down her slender throat to her freckled collarbone then lower to the soft swell of cleavage teasing him.

Crossing his arms over his chest, he approached the bed lazily, leaning on one of the posts and grinning down at her rakishly. “Think you have a round in you, Berdara?”

Gwyn’s eyes flashed with hunger, and she reclined against the pillows like a cat. “Strangely enough, after such a wonderful dinner I do find myself still ravenous.”

Read the rest and the Epilogue now on Ao3 or Wattpad

#gwynriel #gwyneth berdara #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #gwynriel supremacy #gwyn and azriel #acotar fanfiction #gwynriel fic #gwynriel fanfiction #ao3

43 notes · View notes

thatoneclassylady · 7 months ago

Video

youtube

The Ultimate Guide to Selecting the Perfect Bedding

Selecting the right bedding is crucial for a good night's sleep. Bedding not only serves the practical purposes of hygiene and mattress protection but also adds a decorative click here to learn more touch to your bedroom. A complete bedding set typically includes a flat top sheet, pillow covers, a blanket, quilt, or duvet cover, and bed cushion covers, all of which are designed to be removable and washable for easy care.

Understanding Mattress Selection

Choosing the right mattress is a decision that impacts your sleep quality and spinal health. On average, humans spend a third of their lives sleeping, making the mattress an essential investment for well-being. A comfortable mattress supports your spine and can alleviate the fatigue of daily life, ensuring restful sleep. When your mattress shows signs of wear, such as stiffness, back pain, or visible sagging, it's time to consider a replacement, typically every 7-10 years according to the National Sleep Foundation.

Mattress Technologies

There are three primary types of mattress cores:

Latex Foam Springs Each technology caters to different preferences, needs, and body types.

Latex Mattresses

Latex mattresses are known for their comfort and durability. Made from rubber, they offer excellent elasticity and support, making them a long-lasting choice. Both natural and synthetic latex have hypoallergenic properties, beneficial for allergy sufferers. They are often recommended for individuals with back issues due to their supportive nature and good moisture management.

Foam Mattresses

Foam mattresses come in various types, including polyurethane, high resilience, and memory foam. A key factor is density; for optimal support, choose foams with a density above 35 kg/m³. High resilience foams provide better comfort and longevity, while lower densities are suitable for children or lighter adults. Foam mattresses are also lighter and easier to handle compared to other types.

Spring Mattresses

Spring mattresses are popular for their natural ventilation and ability to absorb body movements, making them ideal for those who tend to sweat at night. Technologies within this category include biconical springs, pocket springs, and continuous wire springs, each offering different levels of support and comfort.

Additional Considerations

Mattress Reception: The top layer of the mattress determines your initial comfort. Materials like wool, cashmere, and cotton can vary in softness and firmness.

Thickness: A minimum of 14 cm is recommended for a mattress, with 14-20 cm being the ideal range for ease of handling and fitting sheets.

Box Spring: The box spring acts as a shock absorber, extending the life of the mattress and aiding in ventilation. It should be firm, flat, and compatible with the mattress.

Ventilation: Good ventilation is essential for a mattress to expel moisture and maintain hygiene.

Relaxation Sets: TPR (Head and Foot Lift) sets offer individual positioning and can include electric options for added comfort and support.

Sleeping Independence and Mattress Firmness

Sleeping Independence: High-density mattresses or two separate mattresses can provide independent support for partners with different sleeping habits. Mattress Firmness: The firmness should match your body type, with balanced options for slender individuals and firmer choices for those with a larger build.

Mattress Sizes and Special Considerations

Sizes: Mattresses come in various sizes, from single (90 × 190 cm) to larger double options (up to 180 × 200 cm).

Allergies and Back Pain: Look for hypoallergenic materials like latex and consider mattresses with differentiated support zones for back issues.

Specialized Mattress Features

Pocket Springs: Offer targeted support and are ideal for couples.

Memory Foam: Originally developed by NASA, memory foam adapts to body shape and reduces pressure points, improving sleep quality.

Mattress Toppers and Maintenance

Mattress Toppers: These add an extra layer of comfort and can adjust the firmness of your mattress while also protecting it.

Maintenance: Regularly turning and flipping your mattress, as well as using mattress protectors, can extend its lifespan and maintain hygiene.

#youtube

2 notes · View notes

l-lend · 2 years ago

Text

Warning(s): fluff, swearing (if I miss any please let me know)

A/N: alright @kelpiesummer and @ghostlythunderbird let's get some plot moving yeah? Great. I owe the two above a lot especially some of the dialogue, themes, and ideas in general. Let's get into it.

Sunlight crept along the floor of a bedroom as the largest of the brothers snored away in his bed. The sheets crumpled around his form before a phone buzzed. The springs of the mattress groaned softly as he rolled over. His hand blindly groping for the device as it buzzed again. Cracking open an eye, he was greeted with a couple of notifications. Lips tugging into a grin as he read the messages.

Morning

and no I didn't sleep at the garage last night.

He chuckled as his finger tapped the screen for a reply.

Glad you slept in your bed. Pretty sure it was better than that cot.

After he waited a moment, he rolled out of bed to start his day. A pair of pajama pants to keep himself decent, and the off-duty officer headed downstairs towards the alluring aroma of breakfast.

The compound was not too noisy at this hour. Crosshair never graces the common areas until the afternoon unless necessary. Tech keeps to himself either in his room or out in the barn with his car. He might make an appearance for coffee, but that was few and far between if he was getting ready for a race. Two of his siblings were already in the kitchen by the time he trudged in. The younger of the pair offering a wave while her mouth was occupied with a slice of toast.

“Morning Wrecker,”

He nodded his head in Echo's direction before taking a seat next to his sister. Another buzz rattled in his pocket before he fished it out, earning him a sideways glance.

“When do we get to meet your girlfriend?”

A surge of heat washed over his cheeks before he cleared his throat.

“I..I don't know 'Mega. Nessie's a bit shy.”

Echo looked up from his eggs sizzling away on the stove.

“Nessie? Like the monster?”

“The chances of a plesiosaur surviving in Loch Ness with no proof of its existence are staggeringly low.”

Tech approached his siblings before diverting to the coffee maker.

Wrecker sighed, “Yeah, it's a nickname her friends gave her, but she's real nice just...shy.”

Echo furrowed his brow, “Why not see if she wants to join us for dinner?”

Wrecker mulled it over.

“Hunter and I will get Crosshair to behave.”

The larger man tapped away on his phone. The phone laying silent on the counter once he was done. A plate gently clattering on the counter brought Wrecker to view the pair of eggs and small mountain of bacon offered. He began picking at the meal while casting glances at the screen in hopes of willing her reply to appear. Tech excused himself once his thermos was refilled only to return minutes later.

“Wrecker, I regret to inform you that your car won't start.”

Wrecker frowned, “Was running fine yesterday.”

A small object clattered against the countertop, “Perhaps a call to a mechanic is in order.”

After a quick call to Nessie to explain the problem, Wrecker got up from his meal. He had his mission laid out in his mind, and no one was going to mess this up. Not even him. Echo watched with an amused smirk as Wrecker propped up one of the couches as if it weighed nothing. The commotion of furniture being moved and the roar of the vacuum drew another brother out of hiding. The tattoo on his face wrinkling as he took in the sight.

“What's gotten into him?”

“Girl he's been talking to is coming over.”

Hunter nodded in understanding, “Should we...tell him she isn't going to white glove inspect the place?”

Echo mulled in over, “Maybe after he does the bathrooms.”

The purr of Nessie's motorcycle signaled her arrival to the compound. Her bag weighed down with a few tools that she may need sat along her back as she adjusted the straps to sit better. Wrecker had already stepped outside at the first sounds of her bike pulling up. His smile growing as she doffed her helmet, color already spreading adorably along her cheeks.

“Glad you could make it.”

Her lips curled at the corners, her eyes drifting away from his face.

“It's no problem. Wouldn't be right to leave you stranded.”

“Well, let me show you where it is. I parked it by the barn.”

Despite the multiple times spent together in a short time, butterflies fluttered in her belly as she accepted his offered hand. The silent gesture of fingers entwined being the only tether to keep Nessie grounded in the here and now. Her lips pursed as she took in the view of the stationary Tahoe.

“So it just wouldn't start?”

“Yeah,”

“No burning smell, grinding sound?”

He shook his head.

Nessie chewed on her bottom lip in thought as she slipped off her backpack, passing it along to Wrecker. She felt along the crevice until she popped the release to lift the hood. Everything appeared in order, however her shorter stature proved to be a bit of an issue.

She glanced back to him, “Do you think you could lift me up?”

“Sure, just let me...”

Her heart began hammering in her chest as his hands gently held her hips. Despite her increased heart rate, she felt completely at ease as he held her over the vehicle. Her eyes scanned over the parts leaning forward in his hold.

“I...think I know why it's not turning over.”

She leaned further forward into the compartment, fingertips grazing an empty socket.

“How did you lose you-” The hand that was keeping her steady slipped from the compartment. Her eyes pinching shut as the chassis got closer. After the feelings of being jostled, Nessie peeked open to see Wrecker glancing down at her while she was held against his chest. Neither one of them daring to move for a moment.

He then brought his face closer to hers. The seconds stretched with bated breath. However, as his nerves got the better of him Wrecker began to retreat, the tiny mechanic closed the distance pressing her lips to his. He remained still for all of a moment before he responded. Their lips molded together seamlessly. They parted for air after a minute or two; Wrecker grinning down at her while Nessie's cheeks burned.

“You alright?”

Nessie could only nod, yet a smile cracked across her face. Wrecker eventually set her back on the ground but let his hand stray. His fingers swiping against her cheek with surprising gentleness. The heat from her cheeks plainly felt by his fingers.

“Spark plug.” She finally said, earning a look from him.

“You're missing one. Car won't start without it.”

He nodded before the quiet was broken by his little sister calling his name.

“Well, uh...wanna stay for dinner?”

The teen retreated indoors swiftly returning to the kitchen.

“Okay, I called for him.”

Echo merely shook his head, “I could've done that, but thanks.”

Another brother soon entered the kitchen taking in the lineup for dinner.

“Special occasion?” He grumbled around his toothpick.

“Wrecker brought a girl home to meet us.” Echo replied, jerking his head towards the window.

Crosshair scoffed, “What's wrong with her?”

Echo leveled a glare at the racer.

“Does it matter? She makes Wrecker happy.”

Crosshair's soft huff was the only reply before he took a seat as he rolled his toothpick between his teeth.

In no time at all, dishes loaded down with tonight's meal as each of the siblings plus their guest took places around the dining table.

“So uh...Wrecker says you're a mechanic for work?” Echo probed.

Nessie nodded at the question, but when she lifted her eyes one of the photos hung in the adjoining living room her heart stopped.

“Yes...um, second....generation.”

Hunter's gaze narrowed before following your line of sight. He hummed at the picture in question.

“Do you like bikes?”

The mechanic stayed stock still. Breathing becoming much more of an effort with each person's eyes on her. The lights from the kitchen seemed brighter all of a sudden. She swallowed feeling the grit from a dry throat start to form. Something warm slipped under her hand and curled around it offering a gentle squeeze. She turned to find Wrecker's gaze. A smile reassuring her to press on.

“I..I work on motorcycles for a living. It's...kind of my job.”

Hunter lifted a brow and nodded, “That happens to be Crosshair's bike.”

“Do you wanna see it?” Wrecker cut in.

Before the mechanic could reply, Wrecker had engaged in a staring contest with one of his brothers. The one he challenged sighed flicking his toothpick onto his plate.

“Fine. But don't touch.”

As soon as dinner was done, Wrecker gently guided her towards the attached garage. Her hand still resting in his since he offered his silent support. It just felt right to experience his comforting warmth. Although when the lights in the garage fell on the blacked out motorcycle, Nessie's heart was in her throat.

“I think Cross mentioned it was-”

“an R1M. It's.....pretty tricked out.”

“Well, yeah. He races a lot.”

Nessie's gaze caught each detail from the bike. Each of its specifications ringing a bell from a tune up order she had earlier from her garage's own rider.

“Wrecker,”

“Yeah?”

“Who does Crosshair race for?”

At hearing the answer, the mechanic felt the undeniable chill of her soul leaving her body.

Oh fuck, Bird's gonna shit when she finds out.

#moto!batch au #wrecker x oc #tbb wrecker

19 notes · View notes