#BUT JESUS FUCKING CHRIST IS IT SO MUCH MORE IMPORTANT

[sevastiel]

So was anyone gonna tell me that there are ambient Solaris lines REFERENCING INTERACTING WITH DUVIRI or was I just supposed to get jump scared by this myself

(Quick Link to wiki)

How long was the Zariman punching into Duviri? Is that why Thrax had to take such dramatic measures, because there literally was a way out and it was right there the whole time??????????

WHAT DO YOU MEAN A CORPUS SHIP WENT I N T O DUVIRI TO MAKE A DELIVERY?????????????????????????????????///

I think Imma start tweaking tbh

[broareweabouttoviberightnow]

main difference between mason mccormick n darry curtis is darry is a 'you just don't use your head' brother whereas mason is a 'christ you're dumb' siblin. hope that clears that up. heart.

[zombieslab]

so im stuck in a really awkward situation right now as someone who completely supports everything mapicc does but also will commit mass murder if something happens to zaun. in a perfect world he leaves them alone and starts just tormenting people at spawn but i dont think thats happening

[todayisafridaynight]

any hopes for kiwami 3? like things u wanna see added or changed stuff like that

if they dont keep kiryu's goofy walk stance and the hoof-like walk sounds i dont wanna play it

[marklikely]

like that l.a. times article is rightfully being dragged through the mud so maybe my complaining is redundant. but i think if you wrote "maybe barbie would get a nomination if she survived a mass murder plot" you should never be allowed to write again

[eats-the-stars]

I feel like there are roughly two kinds of "painfully weird kid" that you can be during your K-12 school years. the first is your "I am trying so hard to be normal but I just cannot seem to hit the mark. there's just something wrong with me and I don't know how to fix it" and the second is the category I was in, which is your "everyone around me is so incredibly weird but they obviously can't help it so I will just have to accept this."

[dravidious]

You're more amazing than desks

When it comes to 2-drop uncommon black enchantments that give +1/+1 counters for removing one or more creature cards from your graveyard, we've got

[goldenlikedayl1ght]

wrote this on mobile, i fear it’s the only way i can write bc when i go to write on my laptop, i almost throw up. fuck my intro to law class i guess bc i did this instead of paying attention— anyways! brat tamer!matt murdock with a reader who cannot regulate her emotions. yall wanna give matt murdock a controversially young partner? im down, but my version of it is going to be emotionally immature and a little mentally ill. so. enjoy!

18+

brat tamer!matt murdock

-

you raise your hand to smack him in the face—

you just cannot help it.

your emotions swing like a pendulum— somedays you feel nothing, and pray to god that it won’t last forever (it never does, but it always feels like it will). and other days, you feel so intensely you can’t breath.

lately, you and matt have been trying to work on this. he asks you to verbalize the things you’re feeling, to work through them until you reach a more moderate level of emotion.

but you can only do so much— the universe has to work with you here, give you some sort of break.

it just so happens that this asshole is testing your patience.

he’s just some new douchebag who came to work for the firm, and you suspect he won’t last long. but all you asked him to do was email you a file he wrote!

but his response made you want to kill him.

“in a minute. just cause you’re sleeping with the boss doesn’t mean you can order me around.”

you almost yell at him, but then you breath, reminding yourself you can handle this.

but he keeps pushing you. keeps tormenting you.

and when you lose it and almost hit him, suddenly a warm hand wraps around your wrist, his grip like a vice.

“let’s go for a walk.” matt’s voice is soft, but firm. no room for negotiations.

so you turn to leave with him, your anger still bubbling in your stomach.

the asshole you work with smirks.

“daddy’s calling.”

you turn around to try and say—

“you know what, asshole—“

but matt just turns you back, his hand on your arm like you’re guiding him but he is most definitely guiding you, and the way his grip feels, it’s not up to interpretation.

“let’s go for a walk.” he repeats. if you weren’t so pissed, that might’ve been hot.

you and matt walk quietly. the air is thick with tension until he finds his office door. the blinds are already closed, so he just stands in front of the door as you pace, still buried deep in your emotions.

you’re angry. you’re so pissed off—

not only did that asshole torment you, you hate matt for stopping you from hitting him, for cutting into the situation— you had it handled and matt embarrassed you.

you want to yell at him, to scream at him— there’s a childish urge to tell him that he’s not your dad, like some angsty teenager.

guilt and shame washes over you like a storm, as thunder rumbles in the distance.

“whatever you’d like to say, i suggest you say it.”

his nonchalance only angers you more.

“you’re such a—“ you cut yourself off with a frustrated ‘mmm’, clenching your teeth. matt’s noticed this habit of yours, getting so close to telling people how you feel, even if it’s irrotational.. but you never do.

but matt is your better half. he wants you to say what you feel.

“go ahead.”

his encouragement is gentle, and you’re even angrier for it.

“i could’ve handled that!” and when it starts, you can’t stop. “i could’ve fucking handled that, yeah, maybe hitting him wasn’t my brightest idea, but jesus christ! you proved his point! i hate that everyone here thinks i get special treatment because i know how to properly suck you off! i hate that everyone here thinks i didn’t work for everything i have just because you asked me on a date a long time ago!”

you’re not angry that you’re in a relationship with him— he’s the greatest thing that’s ever happened to you, but you can’t deny how it complicates your work. and your work is maybe the most important thing in your life— you have worked ridiculously hard for this, you have given blood, sweat, and tears for this. through periods of isolating numbness and deep, dark depression, you have pulled yourself together to get your job done.

so it angers you deeply that some people think you only have what you do because you have a drawer in matt’s dresser.

after a moment of your heavy breathing, you begin to feel the cool numbness poke at your skin.

“anything else?” he wonders.

you bite your tongue.

“everyone thinks you’re gonna fuck me right now. fuck the attitude out of me.”

matt doesn’t respond.

you laugh. it’s angry, it’s bitter.

“that was your plan? to continue to prove them right?”

“no.” matt begins, leaning his cane against one of the windows and beginning to approach you, slowly, like he’s worried about scaring you off. “no, my plan was to not have you hit one of my employees. no matter how much he deserved it.”

because really, if he wasn’t so worried about you hitting him, he would have gotten concerningly close to doing it himself.

“but fucking me, it would’ve been a nice bonus?” you spit, and you realize what you want is to push him, to push him to be as angry as you are.. and you’re not even sure why.

he says your name gently.

“don’t be a brat,” he starts, “i’m trying to help you.”

you roll your eyes, and matt’s eyebrows raise like a warning. you ignore it.

“no, you’re right,” you begin, “here, i’ll play the game—“ and matt inhales deeply, knowing that today will be a long long day. you step closer to him and twist his tie in your fingers. “mr. murdock,” your voice drops to a sarcastically sultry tone, “thanks so much for helping me not punch the fucking idiot who thinks he’s better than everyone else. i so appreciate it, let me make it up to you?”

you watch as his jaw tenses.

“sweetheart—“

“what? am i doing something wrong? to make you upset, mr murdock? angry?”

“i’m not kidding.”

“neither am i,” you say, and matt can practically taste your anger, it seeps out of your pores like sweat, your heart racing. “all i want to do is thank you for making me look like a fucking sugar baby,” rage drips from your words like venom and matt can feel the anger slowly seeping from you and into him.

he tries one more time.

“don’t.” is his simple command. full of authority.

“don’t what?” you ask, leaning in so your lips graze his ear, just barely, “everyone already thinks it. let me thank my big strong old man for coming to my rescue and making me look like a fucking—“

matt’s hand grips your jaw tightly and before you can even realize what he’s done. he squeezes, and he relishes in the sound of your breath hitching.

looks like someone forgot to be scared.

“stop it.” his voice is stern. “i know you’re upset, but—“

you can’t help it. you’ve never known when to shut up when matt’s around.

“upset? i’m fucking pissed—“

matt digs his nails into your skin, and listens to you whimper.

“shh,” he starts, “it’s listening time, sweetheart.” his voice is soft, considering the nasty things he wants to do you right now.

your jaw tenses with anger, but when you don’t say anything back, he continues—

“i know you’re upset.” he repeats, “and i get it. you know i do.” of course you do. he’s the devil for a reason— he’s the fucking king of unregulated emotions. but this isn’t about him. “but you can’t hit people at work. i know you know that. close your eyes.”

“murdock, i swear—“

he squeezes your jaw tighter.

“what did i just say?”

you don’t respond.

“no, go ahead. what did i just say?”

this is embarrassing.. but it’s kind of hot.

“to listen.”

his thumb rubs your jawline affectionately.

“see? i knew you could pay attention. now close your eyes.”

you obey.

“now, breath. in through your nose and out through your mouth.” he commands, beginning to breath deeply with you.

in.

the anger swirls inside of you, getting wrapped up like a cobweb in a broom.

out.

after a few cycles of breathing in and then slowly exhaling, your anger has subsided.. but now you feel bad. and you still feel embarrassed, bratty..

and turned on.

oops.

when he’s satisfied with your steady breathing and even steadier heartbeat, he starts again.

“doesn’t that feel better?”

you want to be childish. you want to tell him to fuck off, to lie and say that no, it doesn’t feel better. hitting that asshole would’ve made you feel better.

matt’s hand squeezes tighter, demanding an answer.

“yeah.” is all you say, because you know how close you dance to fire.

he smirks, relishing in the way you squirm under his touch.

“yeah?” he starts, and leans in, beginning to kiss your neck, his stubble scratching your skin. “i’m sure it does, baby,” and you begin to feel a new sort of warmth— not the fiery anger you’re so accustomed to, and not the cold numbness you despise.

a gentle warmth, like the embers of a dying fire on a cold night. just enough to lure you in, desperate for more.

and matt can tell. he can tell based on the way your fingers curl around his arms, based on the skipping beat of your heart. it brings a smirk to his face.

“yeah, i know,” he says, his lips beginning to travel up your skin to your ear— “you just need someone to take care of you, huh?” his free hand moves to your thigh, squeezing gently before his fingers dip beneath the edge of your skirt, “you just need someone to take care of you, don’t you?” he coos like you’re stupid, and it makes you shudder as his fingers begin to massage your clit over your panties.

you let out a soft whine as he continues to kiss the skin of your neck.

"i'm going to fuck you with my fingers," when you whine, he bites down on your neck, "shh, listen to me, pretty thing," he starts, "i'm going to fuck you with my fingers and make sure you remember who you're dealing with. understand?"

you let out a soft sort of whine, but his fingernails dig into your skin again.

"give me a proper answer or i'll stop."

"yes," you say breathlessly, "i understand," and he leans in to kiss your forehead, uncharacteristically sweet of him in this moment.

"good." he pulls his hand out from under your skirt and slips two fingers between your lips so you can get them wet, but as he does, you hear him mutter-- "fucking brat, always forgetting who you're dealing with."

yeah, you two are a match made in heaven.

or, hell, if that's how you'd prefer to think about it.

[themeraldee]

Mind Over Matter

[Masterlist] [AO3]

18+ Only | 4k | Homelander x fem!Reader | Supe!Reader with telepathic and mind-altering powers. Less established relationship and more fuck buddies. Lewd mental images. Office sex (kind of?). Exhibitionism (also kind of?) Overstimulation. Creampie.

Summary: As the only telepathic, mind-altering member of the Seven you take Homelander for a vivid ride in his mind during an important meeting. Homelander can't handle being reduced to less than his perfect manicured self and he decides to teach you a lesson.

Written for this request💚(thank you for the inspo!)

Boring. Boring. Mind-numbingly fucking boring. 

Ashley’s testing out her new ‘VP of Hero Management’ wings that Homelander graciously gifted her and what does she do with them? She parades around the meeting room, putting up a front of a resilient and driven businesswoman while on the inside her heartbeat is in the hundred-tens and her muscles are strung so tight he could shatter them with a flick of a finger.

Now she’s wasting their time with this? So much for filling in Madelyn’s boots with someone capable. 

He rolls his eyes.

She’s pitching ideas for the last missing member of the Seven, one they’ve been lacking since Translucent’s funeral. His eyes quickly flit to you sitting to his right side, taking up Deep’s mantle ever since his timely departure. At least you’ve proven yourself to be a worthy member with some quality skillset.

But these fucking options? What is this? When did good old classic superheroes turn into strange curiosities fit for a circus freak show. First an animal whisperer and now another invisible freak? 

Looking around the rest of the room, he grits his teeth. The rest of the team doesn’t even fucking care. Why does it always have to be him, maintaining the standard everyone should adhere to?

“Nope. Not happening.” He dismisses the presented slide with disdain.

“S-sir, we could really do with the boost in our 18-32 demographic. Invisi-lass has already hit 20 million followers on Instagram. Our forecast shows an uptick of 5%.” Each stutter of her voice is even more grating on his ears than the obnoxious click of her stilettos. 

“Right, a bunch of fucking pre-teen girls wishing they could disappear like her. Fantastic. They’re not gonna come out in support of us, Ashley.” He’s had enough of everyone else thinking they know what’s best for the team, what’s best for him. “Instead it will hurt the biggest demographic—my demographic—because everyone can clearly see that we only care about optics. A female majority in the Seven? Give me a fucking br—”

Moan. That was a fucking moan. Homelander whips his head around to look at the rest of the room to see anyone else reacting. Nobody is paying fucking attention. His mind is playing tricks on him.

He looks at you again. Even you’re making him look bad, sitting at your spot at the Seven’s table all uninterested just like the rest of them.

“Sir?” Ashley’s voice rings the clearest.

“I said no. We don’t need Translucent 2.0. Find something better—” He chokes on the last letter, eyes widening a fraction when he hears the distinctive sound of fingers running up and down a wet pussy.

It’s the loudest thing in his head. Jesus Christ, if that doesn’t make his cock throb.

“Find someone better.” He repeats with a scathing enough look that Ashley—nor anyone else—dares question his restlessness.

The squelch of a soaked cunt is still loud in his ears, the brazen repetition of the lewd noise tinges the tips of his ears pink. He swallows, shaking his head clear of the sound instead trying to focus on the rest of the presentation.

The intermittent nature of the sound is enough to disturb his attention. He throws you a cautionary glare. Not that it does much besides egg you on. The teasing tilt to your lips makes him want to get up and teach you a lesson. 

The sound of soft groans in his head makes Homelander squeeze the armrest, just about stopping himself from ripping it clean off.

Ashley clicks a button on her remote and the screen changes. Moan. Homelander’s barely paying attention to the new recruit candidate. They are as unremarkable as the others.

“Homelander.” You sneaky devil. You’ll pay for that one for sure. Timing that sinful pleasure-infused sound of his name at the same time as Ashley asks for his opinion.

He barely grits out an irritated no. His tongue flits out to wet his lips as his mind fills with the images of a sopping wet set of lips eagerly waiting for his rapt attention.

It takes him everything to stop the wanton moan from escaping his lips when he turns to look at you but instead the image of you naked from the waist down, sitting on top of the table right in front of him steals his mind away from reality.

He has to shake his head clear before he gets lost in the vivid image you’ve planted in his head. Oh now you’ll definitely get what’s coming to you.

It’s impossible to escape the literally mind-fucking you’ve trapped him in now. Thank fuck for the hard cup in his suit. Without it he’d be flashing a hefty erection to the rest of the team. 

If he wasn’t horny out of his mind he’d be impressed with how far you’ve come with your skillset since you’ve become a part of the team. What started as implanted ideas and fleeting moments you’ve turned into vivid and believable scenes, an outright reshaping of his view of reality. The way you could easily manipulate what someone saw—or believed they saw—was pretty fucking hot if he had to say so himself.

His voice quivers when he denies yet another proposal but nobody dares pull him up on it.

The image of your legs spread right in front of him is inescapable. He sees bare thighs sticking to the table top. Along with a mouth-watering pool of slick right where you sit as your fingers go to town, pushing into your cunt with a need he can’t believe he can’t exploit. 

He’s stopped staring at the screens Ashley presented on as she moved onto stats and ratings. While it just comes across as uninterested to anyone else, he wants to look at that exact spot you’ve planted yourself onto in his mind. It makes it more vivid. His mouth is fucking dry. How can you present the oasis and not let him have a sip. 

He’s shifting in his seat, each movement aiding in feeling a sliver of friction against his cock. He feels how obscenely he’s leaking. Embarrassing, what you do to him. What he lets you do to him. 

The images and visions you send into his mind are nearing crescendo. Each of Ashley’s words is punctuated by a lewd sound. Moan. Filthy noise of your plunging fingers. Groan. His fucking name.

No. 

No. 

He can’t have you enjoy yourself with your shitty little smirk while he’s fighting for his fucking life.

“Enough.” It comes out weak, but to the unknowing it just sounds exasperated. When nobody moves or says anything he repeats himself. 

“That’s enough Ashley.” He’s too frustrated to put on the cheerful aura. Too worked up to perform. “Just-just come back when you’ve got something useful. Don’t waste my time with more of these good-for-nothings.”

Ashley’s polite, business curated smile drops and she tightens her lips into a fine line, turning the screens off with an affirmative, “yes, sir.”

He stands up from his seat after he pushes his chair back. He shakes the image from his head.

“Everyone. Out!” He repeats, motioning with both hands towards the exit with a sweeping gesture.

The rest of the team clearly doesn’t care. They barely paid any attention to begin with. All dealing with their insignificant issues in their insignificant little lives. Even after he brought them all to glory they’re still not grateful.

He feels his own heartbeat rise with frustration, the sick feeling taking over.

His vision turns red when the doors take their sweet time opening fully. He’s ready to laser them off the hinges. Upon opening Ashley gets out first, thank fuck, rushing to keep out of the way as fast as possible.

“And where the fuck do you think you’re going?” Homelander stands behind you, both gloved hands land on your shoulders hard, squeezing with a moderate strength. For all your mind-fucking powers you’re still fairly fragile.

The room empties out, doors shutting behind them.

“Well,” he lets you turn around just in time to see that bratty smirk, “you did say ‘everyone out’. I’m just following orders, sir.” Youuu make him want to strangle and kiss you at the same time. 

“Really? This is what you’re going with? Brave. Your sassy attitude isn’t gonna soften the blow sweetheart.” He cups your face pulling you closer to his face. Your hands automatically rest on his biceps, whether for support or as a feeble attempt to push him away he doesn’t really care.

“If you think it’s fun to fuck around—well—then I’m sure you won’t mind if I fuck you riiiight here.” He pushes you back against the table with each step forward, effortlessly hoisting you up with a little throw, making you land on the hard surface. 

“See, honey,” he pinches your chin with his thumb and forefinger and he tilts your head a little to the left. “That camera in the upper corner? Yep that one.” He points at it with his finger just to be sure.

“Now that camera is gonna record eeevery little moan and whimper along with your embarrassing little faces.” He chuckles with his lips closed, already terribly amused at your wide-eyed expression. You make it too easy.

“I was going to keep it to myself, wipe the recording, that sorta thing.” He pulls off his gloves, noticing your eyes follow each movement of his hands as if to brace yourself for what’s to happen.

As you should.

“But then I thought that I might be better off just accidentally sending it to everyone at Vought. So everyone can see what a nasty little slut you are.” His one hand cups your crotch through your uniform. He barely needs his super hearing to catch the squish of wet flesh when his finger presses in the middle.

“Be real, did you really think I would let this slide?”

“I was just doing you a favour!” You squirm under his hand, trying to worm your way further away from him. “You were clearly bored out of your mind.”

Homelander pulls you close, sucking on his teeth with a disapproving shake of his head.

His bare fingers pinch the smooth stretchy fabric of your costume right at your crotch. With his second hand joining the cause he rips the material apart like tissue paper, grabbing the new frayed edges and ripping a hole big enough for the tear to span the top of your pubic bone to the middle of your ass crack.

“Homelander! What the fuck!?” Oh finally, you’re realising the severity of your actions. He grins, ripping the next layer, your colour matching panties, down the middle—making them effectively crotchless.

God it’s so satisfying to see you try to force your legs closed. As well as wedging your hand down the middle. It’s all pointless anyway.

“Come on, don’t cover up. You were so happy to show off all your best assets earlier, gorgeous. Where’s that energy now?” He teases you. He’s being an asshole and he knows it. It’s all so worth it, especially when your eyes flicker to the camera. 

“Eyes down here darling.” He pushes your head back down, not giving you a second to spare before he’s capturing your lips with his. And for all your embarrassment in the moment you still give as good as you get. Really, he thinks this always ends up being some of your hottest sex.

The kiss is messy, pulling and tugging at each other's lips, tongues wet and hot against each other in between the greedy nips and bites at the other ones lips. There’s no time and space for gentle and loving in this moment. He has to stop himself from not shattering your jaw with his hand as he kisses you like a starving man. Each wet kiss and moan makes his cock throb, balls heavy and aching, bordering on painful.

Homelander can’t really wait much longer. He's not gonna get blue-balled by your stupid powers. His cock has been begging for some sweet relief quite some time now. 

Reluctantly he pulls away, hands going to his pants. He leaves his belt on, pulling the zipper down from underneath it, pushing all layers down in one fell swoop.

And wow, already he’s really raring to go. His cock bounces up when it’s released from its fabric prison, grazing your hot flesh on the way up. His mind gets shot with a fuzzy feeling he’s not used to. 

He rests both arms on the table, leaning in close to you with a groan. “Stop that.” He rests his forehead against yours with a hiss. “None of your tricks.” 

“It’s not a trick. It’s not made up. It’s-it’s what I feel. I’m sharing it with you.” 

Eyes widening as he pulls back a bit, staring you up and down with a confused look. So what, you can now broadcast your pleasure? Straight to his pleasure receptors? What in the—

“You can do that?” It’s unbelievable really. 

Nevertheless, Homelander hooks his arms under your thighs pulling you closer to the edge and forcing you down on your back, no matter how much you try to stay up propped by your arms.

“It’s new to me too…” You say a little out of breath as your back hits the table top.

Immediately he grips the base of his cock, flicking the head up and down your slit. The pay off is immediate. His mind buzzes with pleasure he’s never felt before. Is that what it feels like when he teases your clit? 

He can’t wait to eat you out with this new party trick.

Greedy for more of that sparkling pleasure he rubs his cock against your clit with more urgency than you’ve ever seen him do before. Look, he’s always been a good lover to you, making sure you finish each time. But this? This feeling? This more than reassures that you’ll get your fill and more.

The possibilities this opens up are endless. Already curious to find out what else the rest of your body feels like he reaches out to unzip the top part of your uniform, pulling down the fabric of your bra so he can suck on your nipple as he bends over your body.

God, look at him. He feels like a teenage boy touching a woman’s body for the first time. 

His eyes widen immediately as his tongue circles your nipple—both, for good measure. You’re so sensitive. His nipples are nowhere near this level of tingling when you give them some love.

That’s it. He can’t wait. He needs to know what it feel like to have his cock stretch you out. Fill you over and over again.

He nearly comes at the thought of getting to feel that sensation first-hand. His hand trembles when he pulls back to stand somewhat straight as he positions his cock to kiss your entrance. The wet squelch of the two meeting makes you flush. He can feel how hot you’re getting.

“Fuuuck me—you’re even wetter than you were in your little fantasy. Lucky me.” His eyes flutter shut as he pushes into the intense wet heat inch by glorious inch.

And this already feels orgasmic. The hot squeeze of your soft walls is unlike anything in the world. Or… so he thought until a second ago. Somehow it feels even better from your side. This new trick of yours will definitely become his favourite.

It’s really no surprise you jump on his dick anytime the situation allows these days because holy shit is this how it really feels? 

You broadcast all that you’re feeling into his brain, tapping straight into the pleasure centre and lighting it up like a Christmas tree on Times Square. The thick glide and fill is unlike anything he’s ever experienced before. It actually makes him a little dizzy. Having the dual sensation of your wet pussy clinging to him all while enjoying your side of getting filled is guaranteed to make him bust in no time. 

“F-ffuck you're perfect… Jesus a-hah…that's so fucking tight and wet.” He’s really losing his mind now. For a second it feels like he’s the one getting embarrassed on camera with how thoroughly this is reducing him to a bunch of moans and mumbles. But at least he’ll have a fun memory to look back on.  

So he makes the best of it.

This is where all his bravado and cocky words just stop. There’s nothing else on his mind now except the feeling of two hot bodies getting off together.

His hips thrust into you with jagged snaps, unwilling to stay out of your warmth any longer than necessary. His one arm is wrapped around your thigh, pulling you even closer to him as he continuously pumps his hips into you.

The room is a mix of grunts and moans, squeaky sounds of the table legs being pushed forward with each thrust. The huge V-shaped table stands no chance against the hurried and desperate drive of Homelander’s hips.

He takes his free hand to your clit. Immediately hit by what feels like a bolt of lightning inside his brain.

He whines needily, forcing his hand to focus on rubbing your clit in a solid rhythm.

It doesn’t help that you sing for him prettily, little sweet moans as he’s setting your sensitive clit on fire.

He can't resist anymore. The feeling of your clit getting stimulated with his fingers, all while getting your insides massaged with each pass of his cock is enough to make his mind melt. If you weren't his favourite before you definitely are now.

What catches him off guard is your climbing climax. That feeling is familiar yet foreign and interesting enough to add to his own pleasure. And with that there's nothing he can do to hold back. His balls ache too much.

With a whimpered cry he feels the pull of his orgasm taking over. His hips stutter into a pathetic tempo as his cock pulses with his orgasm, unloading one spurt of come into you after another.

“God–fuck s’rry…sorry. I couldn’t—ah, couldn't hold back.” He’s gasping for air, the most he’s ever been winded after sex.

But there's no way he's going to let you go until he feels your orgasm through your powers. He needs it.

“Don't stop, please.” You whimper, the pleading sending a pulse of heat down his gut.

He tries to match the same pace from earlier as much as he's capable. He's still hard inside you. The shivers up his spine from your climbing orgasm are keeping him on the razor's edge of too much stimulation. 

The steady rubbing of your clit makes him grit his teeth, the pleasure of it makes him want to drool and roll his eyes back.

“N’t g’nna” He mumbles through his teeth, watching with wide eyes as you suck on your own fingers, using the wetness to rub and pinch your nipples of your bouncing tits.

He watches as your moans get higher, pushed out in between gasps for air as you arch against the tabletop, your body pulsating and straining against his.

And then he feels it. For a little while he thought you wouldn't be able to have enough control of your powers to transmit the feeling to him, exhausted after a vigorous fucking to give him what he's here for. 

But you do. A burst of hot pleasure melts in between each crevice of his mind, suffocating him with how obscenely strong it feels. The way it reaches into each fingertip and limb makes him nearly fall over on top of you and go limp.

He sucks in the saliva when he feels it gathering on his tongue, his eyes blown black and his body feeling like it's dealing with the aftershocks of electrocution. It's only then he realises he can feel his cock throb and pulse, the tell-tale sign of having just come. Again.

He sucks in a big gulp of air and he pulls out. His cock has reached its oversensitivity limit and now every pulse of your pussy sends a shiver of pain-laced pleasure up his spine.

“What the fuck was that?” He asks, exhausted and falling back into his chair, for once with a heaving chest and gasps for air. It takes a lot to get him winded. Somehow you managed that. Your only response is a weak laugh.

He'd be embarrassed with how ruined you made him feel if his entire nervous system wasn't buzzing with the signals that amount to three orgasms in the span of five minutes.

He pushes his softening cock back into his underwear. Not wanting it to smear the leftover dribbles of come into the fabric of his suit.

Looking at you like this makes him especially glad to have made you the centrepiece in the camera angle. You've propped yourself up on your elbows, catching your own breath. But Homelander can't quite look away from the mess he's made of you.

Your pussy is swollen with the effort, blood rushing underneath the surface. Nice and stretched for his size now, perfect for round two—well, three really—as the small gaping entrance leaks his come in dribbles, collecting on the table. Just like your slick was in the fantasy visual you fed him earlier.

You should be happy he's a generous enough man to make your dreams come true.

Clearing his throat he goes “you're gonna have to clean that up.” His signature sharp grin makes itself known, beyond pleased with the effect he's got on you. Even though you’re the one who started this, abused him with your telepathic powers in ways nobody else would ever dare. You can bet on him being the one to finish it. 

“Huh? With what!” You bite back when you gain some functions back. Sitting up on the table properly. You rush to zip your uniform back up again, not wanting to have anyone else see you as exposed as you are. 

“Your tongue for all I care. Can't have you leaving a mess like that.” He stands up, stretching himself tall, puffing his chest out as if his own cock didn't leave a mess in his underpants.

“How the fuck am I meant to walk anywhere like this? Could you not have just pulled my pants down? Fucking asshole.” You mutter as you hop off the table, ripping the rest of your tattered underwear off so you can wipe as much of the milky white stain and shove the sopping wet fabric into your pocket.

Oh, kitty has claws. Cute.

You stand up straight in front of him, or as straight as you can seeing as you're clutching your pussy so you can’t leak any of his essence down your legs. Or the ground.

Good girl, keeping it all in there like you should. 

“Oh please, you loved it.” The sheepish little ‘maybe’ that escapes your lips is all he needs to kiss you silly. His signature wet and loud kiss that makes your mind hazy each and every time.

He pulls back after one last, surprisingly soft, kiss.

Homelander knows the toll your mind powers have on you, you're tired, overworked and overly sensitive. It’s your only weakness as far as he’s concerned—apart from him of course. And contrary to your belief he does have a particularly soft spot for you. 

He unclasps his cape, wrapping it up around your middle as a cover-up. He picks you up into his arms, bridal style, carrying you effortlessly as he makes his way around the 99th floor, towards his penthouse.

“Hope you've got a clear schedule because I want you to show me what else you've learned to do without telling me.” 

And while originally he threatened you with leaking the footage, he doesn't particularly want you to fill the daydreaming heads of every Joe in the company. He's sure you would. Though the footage will certainly come in handy for a good old Friday movie night in.

For now though? Your job will be to warm the other side of his bed while you get your rest. After that? You're really gonna have to reconsider your stance on a public relationship because there's no way he's not gonna make you his.

Taglist (you can add(or remove) yourself to be tagged when I publish a new fic):

@infinetlyforgotten | @rafecamsgirlll | @nervoussystemss | @hom3landr

@mrsdesade | @nommingonfood | @littlegaaby | @jokesonyoupup

@natliecole

[katethetank]

Too Hot to Handle

Teacher!Eddie x Firefighter!Steve

Masterlist - Ao3

Rating: 18+, minors gtfo

Plot: Eddie takes his third grade class on a field trip to the fire station. Everything is going great until he's swept off his feet by Fireman Steve. CW: Oops, I wrote porn again! Brief mention of drugs, but in reference to physique not actually doing drugs, anal fingering, protected p in a sex, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, lots of switching positions Word Count: 7.7k

“Single file, friends! Everyone line up on the driveway, just like we practiced!”

Field trips are always a welcomed way to break up the normal school days, but sometimes getting a bunch of third graders to cooperate and behave can be more than a little stressful. Thankfully Eddie’s class this year are fucking angels and have no problem following his instructions. Which is great, because the field trip he managed to score is an important one. As a less than angelic child, he was no stranger to accidentally starting a couple fires here and there, so if anyone knows the importance of children’s fire safety, it’s him. 

The kids all line up along the driveway of the fire station and more than a few are bouncing on their toes with excitement. He walks up the line and quickly does a headcount, making sure there are the same amount of students as when they left, and is greeted by the fire chief waiting at the open garage doors.

“Chief Hopper. You must be Mr. Munson. Glad to have you all here today.”

Eddie’s hand is engulfed in this guy's bear paw as he reaches out to shake it. “Thanks for having us, Chief. They’ve been looking forward to this for weeks.”

“Well let’s not make them wait any longer. Come on, kids! Who wants to check out a fire engine?”

The squeals are nearly deafening as the fire station is invaded by 8 and 9 year olds. Chief Hopper gives them a tour of the space, showing off all the equipment and explaining what their uses are before directing them to the shiny red vehicle that a third of the kids haven’t been able to take their eyes off of. They get to climb into the cab two at a time and honk the horn or flip on the lights and sirens, making Eddie wish he brought some earplugs along with him. 

Soon they’re joined by two other firefighters and given demonstrations on how to work the hose. Fireman Lucas holds it steady while Eddie’s class lines up to all have a chance at spraying water down the driveway, and Fireman Mike lets all the kids gently pet their Dalmatian, Charcoal. 

Once everyone gets a chance to honk, spray, and pet, the real education begins. Charcoal is taken back into the fire house, much to the children’s dismay, but once he’s gone something even cuter takes his place. 

“Hi everyone, I’m Fireman Steve, and we’re gonna learn about fire safety today! Now who can tell me…”

Whatever he’s talking about goes right into one of Eddie’s ears and out the other. There’s just vacant space in between where his brain has melted away. This guy is hot. Like Australian Firefighter Calendar Centerfold level hot. Eddie’s always been a sucker for a man in uniform, but good god. He’s got this swoopy brown hair that Eddie wants to run his fingers through. His eyes sparkle as he talks and his smile is so fucking pretty it’s unfair. He’s got stubble indicating that he hasn’t shaved in maybe a few days and Eddie wants to rub his face all over it. The navy t-shirt he’s wearing shouldn’t be anything special, but the way it stretches over his defined pecks and bulging biceps has Eddie going a little weak in the knees. The suspenders are absolutely doing it for him, and Eddie wants to pull them off those broad shoulders with his fucking teeth. The standard firefighter pants are bulky and worn, and he’d give his right eye to dive in there and see what they’re hiding. 

Jesus Christ, he’s gotta reign this in. He’s a teacher on a field trip with children for Christ’s sake. 

“So show of hands, how many of you know what a fireman’s carry is?”

Eddie looks over his little sea of third graders and a few of them have their hands up in a silent answer to Fireman Steve’s question.

“Not many, I see! Well, sometimes in an emergency firefighters have to carry someone out of a burning building. It takes a lot of strength, and we have to be quick so we can get them to safety, so there’s a special way we do this. Who wants to see?”

Eddie chuckles to himself as every hand shoots up as high as they can reach. His laughter is cut short when suddenly his wrist is grabbed in a firm hold, a flash of navy blue passes him, a frankly huge arm dips between his legs (oh god) and his world is tilted on its axis as he’s lifted from the ground. He just hopes his students didn’t hear the high pitched squeak he let out. They probably can’t over their shouts of surprise and delighted peals of laughter, so thank god for that.

“See how easy it looks? Now please, please, don’t try doing this with your friends, ok? It takes a lot of practice and a lot of training to be able to pick someone up like this safely.”

This fucking guy is just casually talking while Eddie is draped over his shoulders like he weighs nothing. It’s taking everything in him to ignore how firm those shoulders are and how his back muscles seem to ripple under his t-shirt against Eddie’s stomach. If he gets a boner while Fireman Steve is wearing him like a cape in front of his class he’s going to have to leave the country or die of embarrassment. 

The demonstration is over, and Eddie thinks that he’ll be set down and able to scamper into the corner to hide his blushing face, but Fireman Steve seems to have no desire to let him go. He and Chief Hopper talk to the kids about smoke detectors, and fire exits, and home evacuation plans, and the whole time Eddie is just…dangling there. He feels like an idiot, but he also can’t help but think how this guy could toss him around like a rag doll if he wanted. 

Again, he needs to reign this in. 

Finally, fucking finally, this part of the field trip is done as Fireman Steve encourages everyone to give Eddie a round of applause for his participation. Eddie’s feet touch the ground, and he feels a bit wobbly as the blood rushes back into his limbs. Fireman Steve steadies him with an arm around his waist, and gives him a blinding smile. “Easy there, Teach. I know I swept you off your feet, but I don’t need you falling for me and hurting yourself.”

And the fucker winks.

Eddie can feel his eyes bug out and he glances over the man’s shoulder to see that his class is fully distracted by the Chief handing out fire department t-shirts and fire safety activity books. He looks back at Fireman Steve and he’s smiling like he just won the fucking lottery. “Did…are you hitting on me right now?”

Ugh, his laugh is even hot somehow. “Sorry, I don’t normally do that. Not a lot of teachers that come in here are as cute as you. I uh…” He subtly flicks the rainbow pin on Eddie’s jean jacket. “Thought I’d shoot my shot.”

Eddie’s laugh is a little unhinged, definitely bordering on crazy, but he’s got to be losing his mind if he thinks this is actually happening. “Did I fall and hit my head or something? Is this a coma? Because there’s no way a hot firefighter is flirting with me on a school field trip.”

Fireman Steve grins and slowly drags his arm away from Eddie’s waist, just barely grazing the top of his ass as he does it. “Not a coma. Just a guy hoping to get a chance with the cute teacher. What’s your name, honey?”

Honey, oh god, Eddie’s in trouble.

“Mr. Munson! Look at the cool shirts we got! This was the best field trip ever!”

And the moment is broken by an excited 8 year old. Eddie musters up all the fake enthusiasm he can as he turns to his student and plasters on a big smile. “That is so cool Ella! I’m glad you had fun.” He looks around the room and sees that all the students are set with their shirts and books and sadly, that their time here is at an end. Time to rally the troops and get them back on the bus.

Eddie claps his hands three times and shouts “Mac and cheese!”

His students all stop in their tracks and shout back, “Everybody freeze!”

“Hocus Pocus!”

“Time to focus!”

“Yakety Yak?”

“Don’t talk back!”

“Awesome job, friends! It’s time to get back on the bus, so everybody find your bus buddy, and can we give a big Thank You to our firefighter friends?”

All the kids shout their thank you’s and Eddie glances over at Fireman Steve to see him absolutely beaming back at him. It’s too fucking much. He has to look away.

“Okay everybody! Ready to rock?”

“Ready to roll!”

“Yeah you are! Line up with your buddies and get your keisters on the bus!”

His class dutifully follows his instructions and he does his mental head count as they file down the driveway. Thank god, nobody’s missing. He turns back to Fireman Steve and gives him a small smile. “Thanks so much, they really had a great time.”

“So did I. But I still didn’t get your name.”

Eddie can feel the stupid blush creeping up his cheeks and he can’t believe this guy is so…forward. He holds out a hand and tries not to get lost in those hazel eyes. “It’s Eddie.”

The handshake is slow and…somehow sensual?! “It was really nice to meet you Eddie. I’m Steve.”

Yeah, like he could fucking forget the name of the firefighter who wore him around his shoulders for the better part of a safety lecture. “Yeah…you too. I uh…” He thumbs over his shoulder to the waiting bus and winces. “Gotta go. So. This has been fun! Bye Steve.”

He spins on his heel and tries to walk down the driveway at a pace that doesn’t give away how fucking mortified he is by that idiotic fumbling of words, and just prays that his house never catches fire so the scorching hot firefighter doesn’t show up and carry him out like a damsel in distress. He’s almost in the clear, just a few short paces to the open door, when he hears boots hitting the pavement and Steve’s voice calling out to him. 

“Eddie! Wait a second!”

He stops dead in his tracks and turns back around to see Steve jogging towards him. Fuck, he looks good.

“Just wanted to give you this. We’re having a bake sale tonight to raise funds for the department. All the kids got one tucked in their books, but I wanted to make sure you didn’t miss out. And uh…sorry if I came on a little strong. If you’re not feeling it, that’s totally fine. But you should come by if you can. I hear the brownies are to die for.”

Eddie takes the flier and just blinks his big, stupid eyes at this guy. Fully aware that at least half the kids are plastered to the windows watching them, he has to make sure to keep his cool and not just throw himself at the man. “No uh…no apologies necessary. I’ll be there.” He hasn’t even looked at the flier to see what time it’s at, or checked his calendar to figure out if he’s even available, but there’s no way he won’t be drawn back here later like a moth to a flame.

“Harrington!”

The Chief’s barking voice interrupts their moony staring contest, and Steve calls back over his shoulder, “Yeah, Hop, I’m coming!” Turning back to Eddie he gives him a cocky little grin and wink. “I’ll see you later, Teach.”

And with that, Steve jogs back up the driveway, taking Eddie’s sanity with him.

“I can’t believe you fucked up our date night for a bake sale.”

Eddie rolls his eyes at his best friend and gives her a withering look. “Chris, our regularly scheduled taco nights where we both complain about being chronically single is not a date night.”

“It’s not just tacos! What about our movie snuggles? How is that not prime date night behavior?”

He raises an eyebrow and looks over at her from the driver’s seat. “Because we’re both gay, and neither of us have the parts that make that work for each other.”

Chrissy huffs and crosses her arms. “If you were a woman we’d be perfect for each other.”

“Probably. And if you were a man there’s no way your tiny little frame could throw me around.” He can’t help the dreamy smile that spreads on his face at the thought of Steve lifting him off the ground so easily.

“Ew, put your boner smile away. There’s no way this guy is as hot as you said he is.”

“Oh ye of little faith. I’m perfectly capable of snagging muscled up hunks, thank you.”

Chrissy’s snort is downright offensive. “Sure you are, hot shot. Your track record would prove otherwise.”

Ok, so she’s not exactly wrong, but she doesn’t have to point it out like that. His love life has been abysmal at best, and as he closes in on his thirties, he’s just not as into the club scene as he once was. Grindr and Tinder are a fucking nightmare, and he just prefers to meet people organically. But it’s hard to do that when all he has the energy for after a week of wrangling third graders is cuddling up with his best friend, watching terrible movies, and falling asleep on the couch together.

What can he say, he’s more homebody than a fuckboy these days. That doesn’t mean he’s not going to let Mr. Hot Firefighter use him like a fleshlight if he wants to. And if he spent a little extra time prepping in the shower after work just in case, that’s his own business.

He pulls up to the firehouse, finding a parking spot about halfway down the block, and mentally gives himself a pep talk on the walk over. He can do this. Steve was flirting with him. He’s got a shot. Chrissy must sense his nerves and loops her arm around his, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“Breathe, dummy. If he was giving you fuck-me-eyes on a goddamn field trip, you’ve got this in the bag.”

She definitely has a point. They stroll up to the firehouse, and the driveway and garage are filled with people and tables of what look like home baked desserts. Not ready to scan the crowd just yet for a particular muscled hunk, Eddie scans the tables instead in search of the brownies he was told about. He finds them and drags Chrissy over to Fireman Lucas, purchasing one for each of them. He drops a twenty in the boot they have on the table for extra donations and starts to mill around the space as he tells her about the Steve-free parts of the field trip. 

When he takes his first bite of the brownie, he moans like a slut. “Oh my god, these are so good.”

“Thanks, they’re my grandma’s recipe.”

Eddie nearly chokes on the fudgy dessert as Steve appears out of nowhere with that goddamn cocky grin. And fuck he looks good. He’s still got the navy t-shirt on, but instead of the bulky flame retardant pants, he’s wearing some perfectly worn Levi’s. He’s never seen anyone fill out a pair of jeans like that. Good god. 

“Steve! Hi! Uh…shit, you made these?”

Eloquent. Nicely done, Eddie.

He steps forward and brushes a crumb off the corner of Eddie’s lips with his thumb and fucking sticks it in his mouth. “Mhm…I did. By that sound you made, I’d say you’re enjoying them. Wonder what other sounds I can get out of you.”

Fucking Christ, who the hell is this guy?! 

“Jesus Eddie, you weren’t kidding.” Both men turn their attention to the tiny blonde on his right. She’s got a shit eating grin on her face as she looks back and forth between them. 

Eddie fumbles his way through an introduction and Chrissy tells him she’s going to look around for lemon squares, giving him a very pointed look as if to say go get him, Tiger! Don’t fuck this up!

Now a little lost without the anchoring presence of his best friend, Eddie feels a little adrift, not knowing what to say to this insanely gorgeous man who seemingly has no problem openly flirting with him. Thankfully Steve breaks the awkward silence.

“I’m glad you made it. I was hoping I didn’t scare you off earlier today. Sometimes I can be kind of…intense when I see something I want.” He looks Eddie up and down, from his leather jacket and cropped Sabbath shirt, down the length of his ripped black skinny jeans, to his beat up old Chucks, and trails those beautiful eyes back up slowly taking everything in. Eddie feels like he’s being examined under a microscope, but in the best way. “You’re definitely something I want.”

Eddie wonders if there’s a defibrillator nearby, because they may need it to jumpstart his fucking heart. He has to clear his throat in a poor attempt at getting it beating again. “Intense is an understatement, sweetheart. You’re like a flirtatious bulldozer. I honestly can’t believe someone like you would even give me the time of day.”

Steve furrows his brow at the comment and it honestly shouldn’t be so endearing. “Why would you say that? You seem like a catch, Eddie. You’re sweet and funny. You were so good with those kids. Not to mention gorgeous. Any guy would be lucky to have a chance with you.”

The compliments are way more than what he was expecting. And thank god they’re finally giving him a shred of confidence to try flirting back. “Well…lucky for you, flattery works with me. So do these brownies. Any other desserts you can win me over with around here?”

They walk around to the different tables, Steve guiding him to each one with a hand on his lower back, which Eddie is being totally normal about, and he’s given a run-down on the best desserts to try. Eddie grabs a peanut butter rice crispy treat, a blondie, and a couple chocolate chip cookies before Steve guides him back into the firehouse and they perch themselves on one of the counters.

“So. How did you become a teacher?”

Eddie swallows his bite of the cookie, which is fucking delicious, and licks his lips before answering. He’s pretty sure Steve’s eyes darted down to his mouth when he did, and he’s also being totally normal about that too thank you. “Well…I actually had a really hard time with school when I was a kid. I was a menace, don’t me wrong, but a lot of the teachers I ended up with had zero tolerance for me. When I was struggling, they just wrote it off as misbehavior or not wanting to do the work. None of them seemed to notice I had ADHD, and I wasn’t diagnosed until way later. So. I guess I wanted to kind of prove them wrong and be better than they were. Be the teacher that they should have been.”

He breaks off part of the cookie and hands it to Steve. “That’s really cool. Your students seem to love you, so you must be doing it right. What grade were they? Fourth?”

“Third. It’s the sweet spot. Younger kids are too noisy, too sticky. Older kids usually smell and the hormones are just too much for me to deal with. Third graders? They’re perfect. Just old enough to really get how school works and what’s expected of them, but also young enough that social hierarchies and shit don’t really mean anything to them. They’re pretty awesome.”

Steve breaks the rice crispy treat in half and hands him the bigger piece. “They seemed awesome. And the little call and response thing you did was fucking adorable.”

Eddie’s not sure if he means the kids were adorable, or if he was. He blushes regardless and deflects. “So how did you become a firefighter?”

“Trauma mostly. I was stuck in a mall fire when I was a teenager. Me and my best friend Robin who is…” He cranes his neck and points across the room. “Over there with Chrissy, hopelessly fumbling through what she would call flirting.”

Eddie spots them and can’t help but snort when he sees a girl with short hair wearing suspenders and flailing her arms around while talking to Chrissy, who is very clearly eating it up if her oh my god please sit on my face expression is anything to go by. “Oh good for them!”

“Right?! So anyway. Rob and I worked together at the mall, there was some crazy electrical fire, and we got trapped in a bathroom. A couple firefighters busted the door down and got us out just in time, and I guess it left an impression on me. Being in that kind of situation is fucking terrifying, and I wanted to be the guy who can pull people out of danger and get them to safety.”

Eddie takes a big breath and lets it all go in a dramatic whoosh. “So you’re hot, a good baker, and heroic as fuck. Goddamnit.”

Steve lifts an eyebrow and his mouth twitches like he’s fighting a grin. “Is that going to be a problem for you?”

“Yes.”

“You wanna come home with me after this?”

“Obviously.”

There’s some logistics they have to figure out, where Eddie drove Chrissy, and Steve drove Robin, and Steve doesn’t trust Robin to drive his truck, so Eddie can’t take him in his own car, and he ends up giving his keys to Chrissy so she can drive Robin, and he gets into Steve’s truck with a loose plan to figure out how to get his car back and everyone to their rightful homes in the morning.

It doesn’t even occur to him until Steve is pulling away from the station that they just could have taken Ubers and avoided all of this. Whatever. Once a gay disaster, always a gay disaster.

He’s not even thinking anymore as Steve unlocks his apartment and shoves Eddie inside. The door barely finishes closing and Steve’s hands are on him, grabbing his hips and backing him into the wall. 

“You want this, right?”

What a stupid fucking question, but Eddie gets it. Consent and all. “Of course I do.”

Steve sighs and moves a little closer. “Thank god. I’ve been wanting to get my hands on you since I saw you this afternoon.”

Eddie puts his hands on Steve’s shoulders and slides them up the firm muscles until he’s cupping the back of his neck. “Just your hands?”

“No.”

Steve leans in and Eddie is fully expecting it to be hard and fast and dirty. But the first touch of their lips is…tender? He can’t think of another word for it. Steve kisses him like he’s trying to savor him and memorize how they feel together. It’s slow and indulgent, like they have all the time in the world. When Eddie parts his lips, Steve does the same, and he moans at the lingering sweetness he tastes on his tongue from the desserts they shared earlier. 

Either the sounds coming out of Eddie, or the wet heat of their mouths seems to light a fire in Steve as he kisses Eddie deeper and harder, pressing him against the wall. Steve’s big hands squeeze his hips before sliding down and hooking behind Eddie’s thighs. It seems to take no effort at all for Steve to lift him right off the ground and wrap Eddie’s legs around his waist. And fuck if that isn’t hot as hell.

A whimper leaves his throat and he wraps his arms around Steve’s neck so he can hang on for dear life. In the back of his mind, he knows he doesn’t really need to. Steve’s got muscles for days and the way he threw Eddie over his shoulders earlier today is proof that he can handle his weight easily. God, Eddie wants to be fucking ruined by this man.

Without breaking the kiss, Steve pulls away from the wall, and sure as shit, carries Eddie off to his bedroom with zero effort at all. A small oof leaves his lips when he gets tossed onto the bed and bounces a few times on the soft mattress. Yeah, he better get absolutely manhandled by this guy tonight. 

Steve kicks off his shoes and it’s at this moment that Eddie realizes they haven’t removed a single item of clothing yet. He scrambles to get his Chucks off and hastily tears off his leather jacket, tossing it to the floor. 

“Easy, honey. There’s no rush.” 

Eddie locks eyes with Steve and he looks positively delighted to see Eddie in such a hurry to strip down. “With all due respect, Steve…if you don’t take your clothes off and toss me around like a rag doll soon, I’m gonna lose my fucking mind.”

Steve throws his head back and laughs, and Eddie spies several moles he needs to chew on as soon as he has access to them. “Sorry to keep you waiting!” 

All of Eddie’s brain cells disintegrate when Steve reaches back, grabs the collar of his shirt, and pulls it off in one swift motion. 

Muscles. 

Hair. 

Hair and muscles and moles and tan skin and Jesus Christ he’s gonna cum in his pants just looking at this guy. 

“Holy fuck you’re hot.”

Steve grins at him, all confident and self assured. “Don’t sell yourself short. C’mon. Shirt off.”

Eddie has a moment. Just a brief moment where he wants to refuse, because there’s no way he can compete with all of that. But Steve looks like he’s about to eat him alive and no way in hell is he going to miss the opportunity. He draws it out. Slowly peels the cropped shirt off of his body and drops it to the floor. He’s not jacked like a fucking firefighter, but he does ok. He’s like…skinny hot. Like that heroin chic look from the 90’s but without the drugs and emaciation. Lithe. Little bit of definition from hauling band equipment and chasing after kids. 

He’s pale, but in that alabaster way, where his black tattoos stand out even more than they should. The demon and spider on his left peck, and bats, wyvern, and puppetmaster on his arm are his oldest. Since he got those in high school, he’s added to the collection. A dragon on his left bicep with its tail wrapping around his forearm. Elvish script on his ribs. A kraken on his right shoulder with its tentacles swirling around his peck and down his side. And if Steve flips him over, he’ll see Aragorn’s sword, Anduril, inked down the length of his spine. 

All the time, all the pain, all the money it took to get all of this on his body is worth it for the way Steve drinks him in and the quiet fuck that escapes his lips. 

“Goddamn Eddie…” Steve palms the frankly obscene bulge in his pants and stalks closer like a lion waiting to pounce. “Take your fucking pants off.”

Say less, good lord.

Eddie unfastens his belt, pops the button on his jeans, and slides the zipper down. Hooking his thumbs in the waistband of his boxers, he pulls everything off in one go and leans back of his elbows, spreading his legs as they dangle off the edge of the bed. His dick is hard enough to cut a fucking diamond at this point, and rests thick and heavy on his stomach. The rest of him might be skinny, but his cock sure isn’t. 

Steve bites his lip and steps between Eddie’s thighs. “God, look at you. I don’t even know where to start.”

Eddie spreads his legs further and lifts his feet, planting them on the mattress. “Do you want to open me up, or watch me finger myself?”

“Fuck. Can I?”

He wishes he could think of something smooth to say, but Eddie Munson is not a smooth man. “Steve, let me be as clear as I can. You could hit me with your fucking truck and I’d thank you for it. You have my full and enthusiastic consent to do whatever you want to me.”

Steve ducks his head as he snorts out a laugh. “Jesus, you’re ridiculous. Heard you loud and clear. If anything changes though, tell me and I’ll stop.”

Eddie nods once and Steve reaches over to his night stand, pulling out a bottle of lube and a gold foil packet with black font. He fucking knew it. He didn’t even have to see Steve out of those bulky firefighter pants to know he was hiding a fucking hog in there.

He lubes up his fingers and braces himself on the bed with a hand next to Eddie’s bicep. Leaning down until their noses are almost touching, a few locks of hair fall over his eyes. He looks at Eddie intensely for a moment before closing the distance and plunges his tongue into Eddie’s mouth just as a slick finger slides in. Eddie’s hands find their way into Steve’s hair, pulling him impossibly closer. He moans and writhes beneath this unfairly beautiful man as his body opens up willingly for him.

Steve is three fingers deep and just barely teasing his prostate when Eddie can’t take it anymore. He pulls away from that delicious mouth with a gasp. “Steve, for the love of all that is holy, get your fucking pants off now!”

Eddie makes a truly pathetic sound when those thick fingers ease their way out. Steve stands and hastily undoes his jeans and Eddie clenches around nothing when he sees how the denim is stretched to its limits. He loses sight of it when Steve bends to push the material down to his ankles and rids himself of his pants, boxer briefs, and socks. He straightens up and Eddie makes some kind of noise between a scoff and moan when he gets a full view of Steve’s dick.

“Oh you’ve got to be kidding me.” It’s fucking gorgeous. Long, thick, veins spreading up the flushed shaft, and beautifully uncut. Steve gives himself a few strokes and Eddie salivates at the view of the dark red head peeking out. He wants it in his mouth.

“Next time. I need to fuck you now or I’m gonna lose my mind.”

Shit, he said that out loud didn’t he? Doesn’t matter. The promise of next time lights him up like the 4th of July.

Steve grabs the foil packet off the bed and tears it open with his teeth, which is admittedly, very fucking hot. He rolls the condom down the length of the veritable fire hose he had hiding in his Levi’s and slicks himself up with a little more lube.

Eddie is so excited he’s shaking.

The bed is at the perfect height where Steve can stay right where he is, and he grabs Eddie’s hips and yanks him forward. Oh fuck, this is gonna be great. Steve keeps his grip with one hand and uses the other to guide his cock to Eddie’s stretched out ass. As he starts to ease the tip inside, Eddie’s eyes roll back and he lets out a desperate whine. Steve is going slow and letting him adjust as he pushes into Eddie’s body, but he’s so fucking ready for this that he just wants him to plow his ass as fast as possible.

Steve finally bottoms out and Eddie feels so full he can barely breathe. God, he needed this. Steve stills for a few beats, gently soothing his hands up and down Eddie’s thighs. It’s soft and sweet, and while he appreciates it and how it makes him feel kind of…cared for, he really needs this guy to hurry up and rail him.

“Tell me when you’re ready, honey.”

Eddie looks up at him and realizes he’s been panting like a dog. He nods vigorously and tells Steve, “I’m ready. Let me have it.”

The first thrust is hard and fast, and immediately knocks the breath out of him. And it doesn’t stop. Right out of the gate, his pace is unrelenting and Eddie could die happy just like this. He’s so fucking deep it doesn’t seem like it should even be possible. The entire bed is shaking with Steve’s efforts as he pounds away. He grabs Eddie’s thighs and pushes them up, and yeah that’s the spot. A horribly slutty moan leaves his throat as his prostate is nailed head-on with each snap of Steve’s hips. 

“Goddamn look how well you take it. You’re so tight, honey. Fuck you feel good.”

Yes, I do, keep going, never stop, you feel so fucking good too, don’t ever take your dick out of me.

Thoughts spin around Eddie’s head but all that comes out of his mouth is, “Ah, ah, ah!” 

Without warning, Steve pulls out and Eddie could fucking scream he’s so mad. But then those big hands are flipping him over and his face is buried in the comforter as Steve lifts his hips and the mattress dips behind him. Just as fast as it was taken away, Steve’s cock slides right back in where it belongs and Eddie screams into the sheets. Steve doesn’t miss a beat, and Eddie’s holding on for dear life as his ass gets absolutely pounded. In such a contrasting feeling to Steve’s brutal thrusts, Eddie feels fingers gently glide down his spine. 

“Jesus Christ, Eddie. These tattoos. So fucking hot.”

Again, Eddie can’t form words, and just groans and drools onto the bed. He’s never been fucked this well in his life. He knows his dick has got to be a dripping mess as Steve ruts into him, but he’s got a white knuckle grip on the comforter and can’t bear letting go to find out. 

Eddie’s quickly losing his control and feels himself rocketing towards what he knows is going to be a crazy orgasm. But just as he feels like he might be right there, Steve changes it up again. He doesn’t pull out this time, thank Christ, but he stills his hips and grinds himself as deep as he can. Which is pretty fucking deep, the guy is hung. He wraps his arms around Eddie’s chest and stomach and pulls him up from the mattress. Eddie doesn’t even get a chance to try processing what’s going on. Suddenly he’s being lifted from the bed, with Steve’s dick still buried inside him, spun around, and seated on the man’s lap as he perches on the edge of the bed.

Eddie’s weight settles and he’s given a moment to catch his breath before Steve starts bucking up into him. He feels spread open and put on display like this, and it’s hands down the sexiest he’s ever felt. His thighs are spread wide over Steve’s thick legs, his back is arched, head tipped back on his shoulder and arms stretched behind him to grip onto any part of Steve he can reach. His cock bobs up and down with every thrust and he’s right on that edge of release again.

Steve’s hand drifts down his stomach and gets a hold of Eddie’s dick, giving it a little squeeze before it starts moving. His lips trail up and down Eddie’s neck, sending a shiver down his spine. “Steve…fuck I’m gonna cum!”

“Let go, honey. Wanna feel you grip my dick.” 

Steve bites at his neck, and Eddie shouts as it feels like his whole body is exploding. White ropes of cum shoot out over Steve’s fist, landing on his stomach, his thigh, Steve’s thigh, the fucking floor. It’s everywhere and feels like it’s never going to stop. Steve is groaning into his shoulder and his thrusts start to slow down as Eddie struggles to catch his breath. His ears are ringing. His heart is racing. And Steve is still moving.

“Is it too much? You want me to stop?”

Eddie isn’t exactly fully online at the moment, but he thought by the sounds coming from Steve that they came at the same time. By the feeling of the still rock hard cock slowly moving inside him, Steve’s not done yet. And like hell is Eddie going to tell him to stop. 

“No. Keep going. Want you to fuck me till you cum.”

Steve is the one to whine this time and he starts to pick his pace back up again, holding Eddie tight to his chest. He’s definitely moving into overstimulation territory, but he’s no stranger to it. He’s had plenty of solo sessions with his dildos trying to see how many times he could make himself cum in one night. He can handle this.

“Gonna move you again, honey. Been too long since I kissed you.” 

Eddie is lifted once again and Steve turns them around, depositing him face down on the mattress and pulling out. He isn’t empty for long. Steve effortlessly flips him onto his back, crawls over him, wraps Eddie’s legs around his waist and slips his cock back in. The moan that tries to escape Eddie’s lips is swallowed up by Steve as he seals their mouths together in a filthy kiss. He grips onto Steve’s back and can really feels those muscles ripple as he fucks Eddie hard and fast. 

The fantasy of him being tossed around and used like a cocksleeve is nothing compared to the reality of it. It’s so so fucking good. This gorgeous man is kissing him and fucking him so well that Eddie is in danger of falling in love with him before the night is over. His cock has filled out again already and that pleasure pain is so exquisite he doesn’t want it to end. 

Steve breaks their heated kisses and moves Eddie’s legs from around his waist, then hooks his arms under them behind Eddie’s knees. “Wrap your arms around my neck. Need you to hold on tight, ok?”

Eddie nods like a bobblehead and does what he’s told. He’s completely unprepared for what happens next.

In a show of Steve’s strength, he stands from the bed, his cock still thick and hard in Eddie’s ass. Eddie yelps and holds on tight. And Steve just…starts thrusting. Standing there in the middle of his bedroom, bouncing Eddie on his cock as he hangs off of the guy’s neck. 

Fuck the fireman carry, this is insane.

“Jesus Christ Steve! This is so fucking hot! Don’t stop! Please don’t stop!”

He grunts as he picks up his pace, driving himself hard and fast into Eddie’s slick hole. “Not gonna stop. Not till you cum again. Can you do that for me, baby?”

“Yeah,” Eddie pants. “Yeah, I’m close. Fuck, Steve! Your cock is so big! Can feel you in my throat!”

Steve grins and Eddie wants to lick the sweat beading on his face. “You were made to take it, honey. Wanna feel you cum again. Come on, baby. Make a mess. I’m right there with you.”

Eddie resists holding anything back and practically sobs as his second orgasm rips through him. He clenches down on Steve’s cock, and that’s all the man seemed to be waiting for. Steve rabbits his hips, pinches his eyes shut, and his mouth drops open with a long, low groan as his dick pulses inside Eddie, filling the condom that he wishes wasn’t there.

Finally, Steve slows to a stop and just holds Eddie up, gasping and licking his dry lips. When he opens his eyes, Eddie uses his grasp around Steve’s neck to pull himself closer and lick into his mouth.

He’s trembling and feels half out of his mind when the world tips and he's gently laid back down on the bed. Steve lets go of his legs and cups his face, kissing him deep and dirty while settling his weight down on Eddie’s spent body. The kisses slow until they’re just tender pecks on his lips.

“Eddie…oh my god. That was insane.”

His entire body is buzzing and words are a little difficult at the moment. All he can do is nod and squeak out a little uh huh. He basks in the afterglow as his heart rate comes back down to normal and kisses are placed all over his neck and jaw and cheeks. He’s not even remotely bothered by the cum that’s cooling between them. If it ends up gluing them together, he has no complaints. 

Eventually, Steve moves to get off the bed and Eddie must make some kind of pathetic sound, because Steve is shushing him and telling him he’ll be right back. His soft cock slips out and Eddie’s never felt so hollow in his life. He doesn’t know how much time passes, it could be a minute, it could be a day, but at some point Steve returns and a warm washcloth is wiping him down. There’s a rustling and Eddie’s eyes pop open when he’s being lifted again and Steve is moving him to lay his head on a pillow. It’s so fucking sweet Eddie feels his teeth ache.

Steve gets in bed beside him and pulls the covers up over them. He’s manhandled again until Steve is curled against his back as the big spoon. Eddie definitely wasn’t expecting cuddles with this big, muscular firefighter, but he is fucking delighted by it. He hums with contentment and lets out a long sigh.

“You feeling ok, honey?”

He can’t help grinning at the little pet name. “I feel amazing. That was hands down the best sex I’ve ever had. I’m gonna be feeling you for days sweetheart.”

More kisses are peppered on his shoulder and neck. “Good. Would hate to have you forget me.”

“Steve. Seriously? How could I possibly forget that? Besides you uh…said next time so…I was kind of hoping I’d see you again.”

The big arms wrapped around him squeeze tighter and his dick twitches as the thought of how fucking strong this guy is. “Of course I want to see you again. Throw you around and wring some more of those pretty sounds out of you.” There’s a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it type of hesitancy in his tone and thankfully Steve doesn’t leave him wondering about it for too long. “So I don’t want to make this awkward, since we’re naked in my bed and all, but um…I’m not really a hookup kind of guy. Not in the habit of bringing home cute teachers just to get laid…”

Eddie can tell this is going somewhere and there’s no denying the excitement he feels as he waits for Steve to find the words he needs. “I’m not really good at…casual. Sort of all or nothing. If that’s not your thing, that’s totally fine. I just wanted to be upfront I guess.”

This is exactly what he was hoping to hear. Eddie’s kind of in the same boat. He hasn’t really been into the gay hookup culture for a while and his little domestic nights in would be infinitely better if he had someone to share them with. No shade to Chrissy and their date nights, but it’s just not the same as having a man to hold him…and kiss him…and maybe throw him around a bit. The last thing he could have ever expected to get out of a field trip with his students was the potential of a new boyfriend.

He turns around in Steve’s arms so they’re nose to nose, tangles their legs together, and brushes his hair out of his eyes. “It’s absolutely my thing. I don’t do casual either. Haven't for a long time. So if you want to give this a shot…I’m ready to rock.”

Steve grins back and kisses him. "Ready to roll."

One year later…

“Mac and cheese!”

“Everybody freeze!”

“Hocus Pocus!”

“Time to focus!”

“Yakety Yak?”

“Don’t talk back!”

“Nice job, friends! I need you all to put your pencils and notebooks away and line up for music class.”

A knock at his classroom door draws his attention, along with 26 sets of little eyes. His face breaks out into a big dopey smile at the sight of his boyfriend leaning against the doorway in his navy t-shirt and Levi’s. Eddie crosses the room and has to stifle a giggle when some of the students wave with their whole arms and shout, “Hi Fireman Steve!”

“What are you doing here, sweetheart? Shouldn’t you be at work?”

Steve lifts his hand and presents Eddie with his insulated bag. “You forgot your lunch again. I’m starting to think you do it on purpose just so you can see me during the day.”

He doesn’t, sometimes his brain just wanders and he forgets stuff, but maybe he should start doing that if it means he can steal a kiss in the hallway from time to time. He takes the bag from Steve’s hand and glances over his shoulder. His students are occupied following his instructions and putting their shit away, so he pushes Steve back a couple feet out of the doorway. 

“Thanks baby. Got a kiss for me before you go?”

“Always.”

Eddie leans in and presses his lips to Steve’s, maybe lingering a little too long because fuck it, his boyfriend is gorgeous and he’ll take any chance he can to kiss him.

“OOOooooOOOOoohhhh!”

A chorus of giggling oohing third graders interrupts them and he leans back into the doorway and snaps his fingers. “Line up for music class, my little monsters!” He watches just long enough to make sure they do as they say, and turns back to Steve. “Fajitas for dinner tonight?”

“Yeah, I should be home by 7, unless there’s any emergencies.”

Eddie sneaks one more quick kiss. “Ok. Be safe, baby. I love you.”

“Love you too, honey.” He pokes his head through the door and waves at the class. “Bye guys! Be bad!”

His class erupts into laughter and shouts back, “Bye Fireman Steve!”

Eddie shakes his head as he watches his boyfriend strut down the hallway. He’s so glad he took his class to the fire station last year. It really was the best field trip ever.

Thank you for reading! Liking, commenting, and reblogging makes writers do a happy dance!

@mrsjellymunson @the-unforgivenn @watermelonmite @micheledawn1975 @airen256 @micheledawn1975

[kaisaerinlover]

nagi seishiro

tw: pseudocest, dubcon

getting used to being nagi seishiro’s newest… newest… newest something… is really hard. you don’t even know what you are to him, but him and reo keep insisting you call him seishiro-nii, but you don’t like it! reo is your big brother, not nagi. but, then again, even your real nii-chan is insisting that you should treat nagi the same way you treat him too…

you always wanna be good for reo, he’s your brother after all. and maybe seishiro-nii isn’t all that bad, maybe you can get used to it.

that’s what you thought earlier, you regret it already. man, you wish mom and dad paid more attention to you; they could save you from this mess. but unfortunately only the eldest mikage sibling matters, not the useless youngest girl who can’t ever hope to inherit the mikage corporation.

it’s a shame your gender precedes you, and that’s why you’re on your knees in front of nagi choking on his cock whilst your brother holds your head down yet strokes it so sweetly, a weird contrast to what he’s having you do to nagi right now. just 5 minutes ago you were being a little too resistant for nagi’s liking. and you weren’t taking him deep enough. nagi’s tall - 191cm - so he’s also big. you gotta take more than just the tip, y’know? unfortunately you didn’t know. so he called reo in. “hey reo, she’s not doing it right again” he called out into the hallway.

that’s how reo got there, pushing his baby sister’s head down onto his best friend’s cock. making sure she takes every inch. he does feel a little bad, but that’s to be expected. and besides, sometimes you have to sacrifice one person’s comfort for another’s pleasure. he’s sorry to you but nagi’s physical being is more important than yours, if you use your mouth properly it’s gonna help him perform better in games! nagi is in heaven though, he feels your sweet mouth wrapped around his length and jesus christ it feels like heaven. your tears are wetting up his thighs and your sobs are a bit annoying, but you’re cute. so he can ignore it. he’d rather you just shut up though. reo senses this and coos to you gently. “shh, it’s okay ‘mouto. gonna be over soon. just keep being a good girl ‘kay?” he’s still massaging your head so softly. nagi is in ecstasy however. “ah, reo. push her deeper-“ he breathes out. and reo obliges.

your throat is killing, you curse yourself for your inexperience because maybe if you were good and had practice before at such a crude act you could have made nagi finish 5 minutes ago and gone back to your regular routine of simply being expected to be next to nagi and staying quiet the whole time he plays some game. it’s boring and you hate it, you’re only behaving to make reo proud of you, but it’s so much better than this. you open your big teary eyes to get a look at nagi. you don’t know why, but you do. and he’s looking down at you too. nagi doesn’t do smiles, so he doesn’t smile at you; but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t a bit happy you even looked up at him during… this.

“hey- ah- reo, she looked at me” he points to you with a shaky finger as he’s still feeling so good whilst fucking your mouth. reo simply laughs at him. “hah, yeah, she is” he ruffles your hair. “keep your eyes on nagi for me, okay imouto?” and you do. you want to make reo proud so much, you trust your elder brother with your life. that’s your biggest weakness, you really shouldn’t, but how can you not!

nagi is so close, he can feel himself about to cum. and when he does, it’s blissful. he doesn’t even have any words to describe it, but god you’re so fucking good at it. a natural slut. reo just pulls your head up a bit to check on you then pushes your mouth back down onto his best friend’s dick. “look how good you can be, you made nagi cum. good girl. but y’ gotta clean it up still.” he chastises you a little. nagi hums in agreement. “yeah, clean my cock off, imouto. don’t wanna shower. too much hassle.” seriously? hassle? it’s more than just a hassle to you, you hate this! that’s what you’re telling yourself, that’s your internal monologue right now. but you don’t even have the strength to fight back. you’re stuck sucking the salty cum off of his cock ‘til him and reo decide to finally let go of your head.

this seriously sucks, doesn’t it? it’s so degrading. your brother keeping you locked in place, mouth stuffed full of nagi and his seed. they’re talking like you aren’t even there. like you’re not cockwarmimg nagi right now. nagi is leaned back a bit and reo is just simply talking about their most recent game. reo often leans down to kiss your forehead and nagi is scratching your head in the manner you would a cat. you’re being almost completely ignored, whilst his dick is still lodged in your throat. gosh, your elder brothers are so not fair. and the taste of his cum, gross! you don’t like it at all. but you can’t even swallow. nagi’s cock is pressing against the back of your throat. it’s just too hard.

not to mention your knees are hurting. you hate this so bad, so how come even after reo gets up, lets go of your head, gives you a bedtime forehead kiss and walks back to his own room, you’re still there? mouth wrapped around nagi. he’s leaning back on his hands still looking down at you curiously. “why you not getting up, you like my cock” and you swear up and down you don’t! in your head, that is. you don’t know yourself why you’re yet to stand up, so you go to push yourself up from your aching knees finally. but a large hand stops you, it’s nagi’s. “don’t move, it’s a hassle, my dick’s gonna be all cold. just stay, be good” and you actually oblige. you’re a curious little thing, usually you don’t like to listen too much to nagi, but tonight you’re being extra good. so maybe he’ll indulge you a bit. maybe he’ll stop thinking that showing a small percentage of kindness to you after all the obedience you show him is such a hassle. you adapted well to the situation after all.

he pulls your head up from his length, pushes your chin closed with his hand and tilts your head back. you swallow, of course you do. and he pats your head. “good job, baby. like it when you’re good, bad girls are a hassle.”

he must have you brainwashed or something, ‘cause you don’t wanna be a bad girl for seishiro-nii all of a sudden. and he must see that too. he lifts you up, his large hands under your arms, and brings you onto the bed with him.

you’re both laid down, and he’s rubbing your head so gently, so sweetly. he’s not preoccupied by his phone or any other console for once. he’s just being nice to you. treating you like a princess. rewarding you. you deserve it, you clean up everything after him, do what he says for the most part and you’re good company. he pulls you in against him and you don’t squirm like you usually do. “thanks for being a good girl” he whispers into your ear. and you blush and just nod. seishiro-nii is sorta nice, isn’t he?

maybe reo-nii was right, maybe you should just behave for seishiro-nii. maybe you misjudged him and he really is fit to take care of you. after all, he is your brothers best friend. and nii-chan is smart, he only picks the best. nagi is passed out, still holding you, and you notice how he’s actually good looking. maybe you should just be good for him. after all, you’re in a position most girls would kill to be in.

maybe you really aren’t just reo’s imouto. maybe you’re nagi’s too. and maybe you’re not as upset about it anymore.

[avifaunaa]

these strange noises [ voices ] followed me here [ s.s.+n.s.] [ pt. 2 ]

Authors Note: 🤪

fun facts:

i have zero medical knowledge and the likelihood of this being extremely inaccurate is high!

i did a lot of research into medical practices and inner workings of being a medical professional to try and throw this together

i also watch grey's anatomy, that makes me an expert

any named people of importance in the hospital are made up for obvious reasons lmao

Shauna nat are married here. No i will not be taking questions.

Masterlist

PART ONE

Pairing: Dark!SoftNatalie x fem!reader x Dark!MeanShauna

Summary: It has been ten years since the rescue. Ten years since the trauma of a plane crash. Ten years. You’ve changed your name, moved as far away as you possibly could, and finished your degree and now find yourself in the last year fellowship of pediatric surgery. You’re fine. Until you’re not.

Content Warnings: Thick plot, sorry, Mentions of illness+injuries regarding children as R has become a pediatric surgeon + 1 detailed scene of surgery in which r is conversing with another doctor, r responds to an actual name because she changed it but not by S/N, Mean!Shauna, Soft!Natalie, angst, stalking, harassment, blackmail, EXTREMELY FUCKING DARK non-con, threats, degradation, praise, strap-on use [ r!r ], face slapping, spitting, cutting, hair-pulling, multiple orgasms, forced orgasms, and some aftercare because jesus fucking christ.

Word Count: ~8.1k

Your forehead thumped against the steering wheel of your car as you closed your eyes. You were exhausted and you’d just had a day off — but it was time for your rounds and unfortunately, that meant the next few days of sleep would likely be done in the on-call room.

The cool San Diego breeze blew through your hair as you slammed the door shut and dropped the keys into your bag before dragging your way toward the looming building that was your second home — essentially.

Your phone chimed in your pocket and you pulled it out, hoping it wasn’t Clary asking you if you were there yet. She wanted to touch base on the research you were both working on as partners, but you didn’t want to admit to her that no, you hadn’t so much as touched it all weekend.

You almost failed out in your first year of fellowship — it was so much more difficult to have completed in one single year than all the years you had to complete for residency.

[ You also had five patients today, two of them with grave outlooks ]

If anything had taught you about looking death in the eye, it was crashing in the Canadian Wilderness and surviving for almost two years no matter the circumstances.

You could look these children in the eye and promise them you would absolutely do whatever it took to make them feel better. And pretend magic had everything to do with it.

It was their parents — their angry, grieving, begging parents — that you struggled with more. It was the same look when you watched the recordings your parents kept of the news and interviews about your plane going missing, the loss of hope after each one months after months.

With kids it was easy. They trusted you to do whatever you thought was best and felt like you were their imaginary savior of sorts — you would do whatever it took to take care of them.

But the adults had lost the magic, the endless hope, the seemingly open glee at hearing any slight good news.

It wasn’t Clary but rather, it was Jordan. She had become your closest friend — and your attending — during your fellowship. Forming close relationships with your mentors wasn’t inherently frowned upon as long as there could still be a clear line between professionalism and what usually existed on the other side of said line.

You were swift to get to the locker rooms to change into your scrubs and pristine white coat, saying hello to your other fellows and exchanging brief conversation.

None of them would ever wish to talk to you again if they knew who you were — what your real name was and what your experiences forced you to endure.

It matters little now. The only name you responded to and that was on any official documents to be found was the one you perfectly articulated for yourself when you burned away your past along with your dreams to work in Vancouver.

“Forceps,” Jordan demanded from your left, as the two of you stood over a patient lying on his side, a large incision opening from his ribs to his back. It was a mess and you hated that a fifteen year old had to experience it.

“You’re quiet today,” the older doctor commented once the tool was set in her hand and she went to work using it. Cancer, so built up that parts of his right lung had to go.

You kept still the drainage tube that allowed fluids to properly drain.

“I’m really tired,” you stated behind your mask, eyes moving toward the monitoring screen so you wouldn’t have to meet her eyes when she would glance at you. “It’s been a long month.”

And the anniversary for the crash is tomorrow.

But you couldn’t say that. Doing so would acknowledge a life that you had worked so endlessly to murder, bury, and run from so many years ago.

Your life was peacefully undisturbed and no signs of vengeance from your past was threatening to upturn what you’ve so carefully designed — you could only hope it stayed that way.

“Hmm,” Jordan murmured in the Jordan Way. You came to know it closely, intimately, when you started your fellowship under her scrutiny. She could smell lies like they were freshly baked bread and it made her extremely hard to go around.

Clary and you had lost rounds for a week when you had swapped patients simply because you didn’t like the other doctors you were paired with. Never again. You had both learned to play nice — “which you should have done as attendings,” she had snarled before stalking off.

But now she has fallen into her focused silence, working meticulously and removing the damaged section of lung on the patient. Nurses came and went with more sponging. You adjusted his position as needed if movement became an issue, and kept an eye on the muscle tearing done during the incision.

She snipped something and removed it carefully. It landed with a splat behind her on a medical container to be a properly disposed of.

“Clots?”

You did not move the tubing.

“No.”

“Good,” she said simply, and went back to work. You knew that while the focus was getting this surgery done, she was sniffing you out like a hound on a hare.

“He came out of the surgery well,” you told the thirty-eight year old woman four hours later, who trembled outside of her son’s recovery room where he lay sleeping now. “He’ll need to be monitored for any signs of clots or leaking from his lungs, but so far his outlook has become positive and he’s well on his way to being able to go back to soccer.”

Agnes trembled more and she collapsed into you, arms wrapping around you. You embraced her readily, having accepted this part of the job the most: the ability to take the overflow of emotions parents and family had nowhere else to put. In your residency, you had been desired by mentors for your bedside manner but it was always going to go to pediatrics.

“Thank you,” she murmured in your ear as her tear-soaked cheek pressed against yours in the hug. You rubbed her back, offering the comfort and shielding her from the part of you that ached and begged for sleep and food.

“It’s my pleasure. I will be back to check on him, but if you need anything feel free to ask the nurses okay?” You pulled back from the hug, squeezing her arms warmly and smiling as well.

Agnes nodded, thanking you tearfully once again as she stumbled to go see her son. You slid the door closed to allow her some quiet privacy to decompress — she was going to drop from that adrenaline soon.

You made your way to the nurses station where charts were already laid out for you. Your next patient was not going to wait for you to recover yourself, and you didn’t have a lunch for another four and a half hours.

It was the television, however, that stopped you in your tracks. The local news station was showing footage that was all too familiar and immediately induced a flight like sensation into your system.

You dig your fingers into the boxy clipboard as you stared at the overhead footage plastered to the screen of the remains of the crash from a year after. Your blood turned to ice in your veins and you froze like a deer in headlights.

The team had picked the plane apart to use what you could and many documentaries and news segments had commented on it when they went to seek out the wreckage and your camps after the rescue. You had family questioning you for months before you exited, stage left, and you had refused to discuss it.

“Tomorrow will mark ten years after the incredible rescue from Canadian forests of the university team, The Yellowjackets, one and a half years after they had been reported missing during their flight,” the reporter started, and the footage following flickered to the remains of the empty camp recorded post-rescue.

“Searches were initially held in the first five months where the flight path was said to have taken, but the crash was later found one hundred and fifty feet away from that official path. Investigators were unable to identify the exact cause of the crash.”

The reporter next to her leaned to glance at her. “Every time I hear the story, it never ceases to both amaze and sadden me,” he told his partner, shaking his head.

You wanted to claw his face off. It was all fake — he didn’t care, not really.

The woman nodded solemnly in agreement. Someone brushed your shoulder and something was said, but you did not pay attention as she continued, “Survivors have gone completely off-grid since their return home except, notably, for lawyer and currently running for State Senator Taissa Turner, who has not answered questions in regards to the crash.”

Photographs of all of you — the ones who made it — lined the screen. They weren’t recent and you were relieved that your deep burial had worked. All these photos were ones taken for the university website for the team a few months before the play season began.

Your eyes flickered to Shauna and Natalie’s photos, briefly, and you held your breath until they were gone. Even this long and you still acted off of your base instinct when any signs of them, be it a memory or a mention in media, cropped up.

“Doctor Landry.” You jerked back from the counter and your arm loosened on the clipboard holding your chart. The object fell with to the floor with a clatter and you startled further, rearing back and pressing your lower back into the counter.

“Woah, sorry.” It was a resident who often worked with Jordan and thus with you. His name often escaped you, but right now it wasn’t even a thought in your head. “I didn’t mean to scare you. Must have been really into the chart, huh?”

You swallowed hard, fingers pressing carefully into the smooth countertops to ground yourself and tuned your ears to the sound of the hospital noises. For many, the hospital is chaotic, overwhelming, a cause of stress.

For you it brought comfort. The endless impact of sensations were a constant reminder of who and where you were now and you were able to keep yourself from truly having to dig too internally.

You breathed out and watched the resident bend down a little too eagerly to grab the chart for you and hold it out with a nervous smile. “Doctor Jordan sent me to be your resident for the rest of your rounds,” he said, sounding pleased.

You blinked at him and hated and loved Jordan in equal measures at this moment. You knew she was working on your teaching skills for when you completed your fellowship and had a license in full. You would eventually have your own fellows to train and residents to attend, but . . .

“Okay,” you started, “Larry.”

He frowned. “It’s Brewer.”

You slipped your tennis shoes back on once you changed back into your normal clothes — glad to feel something heavier against your skin other than scrubs but less constraining than your coat.

Clary — bright, energetic, a mass of light — blocked your exit from the locker room, hand gripping her bag as she grinned at you, ignoring your tired face. “Drinks?”

You glanced at your phone screen and squinted at the large 10:00 that flashed back at you. You’d just gotten off of the second of your monthly 24 hour shifts; you’d be on mostly day shifts and Jordan’s on-call schedule for surgeries the rest of the month.

A drink with Clary and then sleeping in wouldn’t hurt. You won’t be back until Wednesday.

“Okay,” you agree like you had a choice with her blocking your path. Her grin became softer and she nudged you as you exit together and discuss your shifts on your way out.

You went to a bar close to the beach that had outdoor seating. The night life was active despite being a weekday and you knew it was partially to do with spring break soon coming up.

You both ordered your usuals and you ran the heel of your palm across your face as you took in the scenery, trying to get the entire day out of your head.

“How’d your lung surgery go?” she asked when drinks were delivered. Your fingers wrapped around the chilled glass of your beverage and you took a sip.

"Exceptionally well, of course, when it comes to working with Jordan," you told her, raising your glass in a half-salute. "She's a master of her craft."

Clary arched a perfectly sculpted brow [ you would know, she's dragged you to her appointments more than once ] and released the loudest scoffs her small form could manage. "Bullshit. Yeah, she's amazing. But c'mon . . . you're being looked at to become a permanent surgeon here! Jordan sings you praises!"

"I assisted her on the lung surgery, Clary," you laughed, "That was all I was asked to do this time."

"But I'm trying to point out facts here, Darling." Clary did not continue without first taking another sip of her drink, with you following suit. The salty beach breeze drifted into the outdoor patio as the bustle increased from beach-goers seeking late night drinks and food. "There's rumors."

"Not rumors," you moaned, craning your head back and tight-lipping a smile from your face in amusement.

"I'm serious!" You felt the table shake as she leaned over to slap you on the arm.

"Watch the drink, psycho!" You reared back, careful not to spill and keeping your body parts off of the table in case she used friendly fire again.

"There's rumors, Landry," Clary repeated, dimpled cheeks flushed from the alcohol and giggles you two had shared. "That Sanchez is going to go to the Board after you complete your fellowship and that's why Jordan's been throwing all of her energy into you more than her other fellows."

You did not let that spark of hope in your chest ignite into a large bonfire. You were good at what you did and you knew it, but focusing on simply surviving this final year would be what earned that offer of any position from the hospital. Not dreaming of it.

You twirled your drink and hid your features as you tipped it to take a longer sip than the last.

"The kids like you," Clary continued as she flagged down the server for your table, her drink empty, "the nurses and attendings like you, Jordan's residents like you, hell -- the ER likes it when you come and take a load from them. Are you really stunned to silence?"

"No, Claire," you sighed, wanting her to shut up about it. You knew you were liked, you knew you had eyes on you, and while you knew what you were getting into when you stayed in your field after the Wilderness, you always had to remind yourself you did not have to keep looking over your shoulder from these particular eyes.

"Claire," the fellow chortled, flinging herself back dramatically in her high-seated chair. "Not the full name."

"Can we discuss something else before I end up having to use your last name, too?"

The way she puffed her cheeks out at you indicated that she wasn't completely finished hounding you, but she also seemed to understand you had drawn a line in the sand and was not going to cross it.

She waved her manicured hand at you, sparkly black nails glinting under the bright lighting of the tiki's and overhang fan-lights. "Ugh, fine. Keep your secrets."

You smiled at her. "I will."

Your discussion veered off into safer waters and you had gotten relaxed under the atmosphere. Chattering patrons and boisterous laughter replaced the bustle of hospital noise that soothed you constantly.

You and Clary turned your heads when a server that was not the one who had been supplying you both with drinks all night appeared with a tray, only one glass of your choice of drink aligned in the middle.

"Hi," he greeted politely, but rushed, as he sat the glass down in front of you, covering the two empty ones behind it. "A nice woman at the bar bought you this drink."

You stared at it as he swiped the two empty glasses and went for Clary's as well, leaving her third half-empty one for her to finish as the woman stared at you in shock, brow raised mischievously.

"Thank you," she said for you, eyes still on your stupefied form as the server vanished into the crowd. She smirked brightly, chin laying on her curled fist as she wiggled her brows at you. "Well, well, do we have a mystery admirer we should keep an eye out for?"

You did not touch the drink and shifted your gaze over Clary's shoulder toward the bar. It was packed with people waiting for drinks. All seats were taken but people crowded the areas between and behind it, too.

Nobody in particular stood out nor did you feel as though you were being watched. You wondered if you had grown extremely comfortable in this life to the point of no longer studying your surroundings well enough.

"See anyone?" Clary mused behind her glass, turning her upper body to help you look. "Jesus Christ, even though we know our mystery friend is a woman there's still to many to try to pull as our suspect." She swiveled back to you, looking more deflated than you.

You shrugged as you swept the area one more time, hoping you'd maybe find anything that would stick out. You picked up the glass and dropped the matter -- if your gift giver was too shy to reveal herself, then you'd just let her appreciate you enjoying her gift from afar.

"It's fine," you assure Clary, offering a tilted grin to soften the blow, "I'm too busy impressing the Board for mystery ladies, anyway."

Clary downed the rest of her drink.

Your sitter messaged you to let you know that she had left the key in the usual spot after walking Nibbles for the last time for the night. You dumped a generous tip into her Rover account and requested another drop by for your few work days that would be the busiest and snagged the key from your elderly neighbor's plant as you returned to your apartment.

You were buzzy and feeling more relaxed after going out for drinks with Clary. You did not do it extremely often -- but it was good for you to not stay locked away in your place every second you weren't at the hospital. You got stir crazy easy and after the crash, you did not like existing in a state of "just here" that signaled your brain that you were on survival mode.

Never again.

Your teacup yorkie, Nibbles, spun in circles in his ritualistic way by the front door as you entered and removed your shoes. He did this until he was dizzy and wobbled after you toward the couch.

"Was Penelope here today, my little mister man?" you crooned at him as he climbed up the couch and spun more circles in your lap. "I see. Did you see many things on your walks?"

He gave you kisses and sniffs.

Nibbles was your one indulgence in the destruction of your old self and rebirth of the new. You found him in a box as you were throwing your broken down boxes into the recycling after moving into your place. He was a tiny, scraggly, infested thing that reminded you of yourself ten years ago.

You took him in immediately and he's been your constant in the ever-changing busy world you'd fashioned for yourself. Ten years old and he was still ready for whatever you threw at him.

After saying proper hellos and dropping a frozen Kong at his feet to keep him busy while you got ready for bed, you headed to the bathroom and rubbed at your temples.

Your phone, muffled, buzzed insistently in the bag you tossed on the bed as you were undoing your jeans.

You ignored it and figured it was Clary spamming you with TikToks after doom-scrolling in the cab.

But the buzzing did not end. Clary sent you ten videos in two messages, usually, not one by one.

Your curiosity got the better of you and had you rotating yourself to the bed and shifting through your bag until your phone was in hand.

Unknown (12:54): You cut your hair. Unknown (12:54): you're so pretty to this day, baby Unknown (12:54): We're glad to see you still like the same drinks Unknown (12:55): You aren't dating that girl you're with are you? Unknown (12:55): we're really proud of you're accomplishments Unknown (12:55): It took us ten years, sweetheart. Ready to see what we can do with ten minutes? Unknown (12:57): We cannot wait to catch up with you. Hope your dog doesn't bite

A cold wave of soberness splashed over you as you read out each text message word by word then went back and reread them again.

You dropped the phone like it had burned a hole into your hand, curling your fingers to your chest as you stare at the object in horror. Your eyes darted around, paranoia starting to renter your system like a welcome friend that was old but well-known.

You shot across the bedroom and ripped the curtains over the windows, covering the view and made quick work of the ones in the living room as well. Nibbles had finished his Kong and followed you around, ears perked and fuzzy face mussed from cheese.

You backed away from the windows and swallowed dryly, trembling and paced circles around your entire apartment for a better part of an entire hour without any sign of disturbance.

You barely touched your phone but there were no other text messages coming in. You blocked the number and screenshotted the messages just in case before turning your phone off for the night and heading off to the bathroom to shower.

You dress quickly and don’t spend as much time on your skincare routine as you usually do. Your head was spinning with unfiltered energy and fears about those messages.

Nibbles is waiting in his spot on your bed with an expectant look as you pulled the covers out and slipped under. He immediately dove under to curl into your side and nestle into your warmth like a heat-seeking mini missile.

You flipped on the television and thumbed at the buttons without actually changing the channel that was already on from when you last had watched. Your mind was racing like a three-time winning race-horse.

There was no possible way it could be anyone on the team. While the reporters had been pretty correct in everyone going off grid, you had done more than that. You had wiped your name off the map.

So much had happened after the rescue anyways -- Natalie and Shauna had never really had the chance to regain control over their hold once going home and struggling to go back to normal had become all of your shared fight.

You hoped it was just some kids playing a prank on random phone numbers that they entered into their phones.

But even the likelihood of that was lower than your belief that your past was not going to come back to haunt you quicker than you'd left it behind.

The next day you kept busy with mundane tasks that ensured your thoughts were distracted. You went out somewhat early to grocery shop -- when you opened your refrigerator you had winced at the lack of food. It was time to brave that task again.

You armed Nibbles with some treats and the television to make sure he had company and went on your way, list made.

As the day dragged forth you could not help but feel a pit start to grow in your stomach. It was a feeling you had known well but had not felt to this degree for a very long time.

You tried to ignore it as best you could, but it did not seem to go away the closer to home you got.

You stood dead in front of your door, unable to shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong. The bags you had gathered together in hand were slipping from how clammy your hands grew under the stress of the feeling.

Quietly you set your goods down and fished for your keys. Entered them into the lock . . .

. . . only to find that the door was not locked in the first place.

You took a step back bile beginning to claw its' way up from your stomach and into your mouth, threatening to spew all over the ground. You have never felt like an animal walking into a trap to this degree; not since the Wilderness.

You had to leave, you needed to get out of here, get somewhere where other people were and wait it out. Call the police --

The door opened.

And Shauna Fucking Shipman stood in your doorway like she lived there, your little dog pleased and panting happily in her arms.

"Hello, sweetheart," she chirped, lips curling upward into that trademark smirk that read trouble and danger in your eyes. "Didn't you get our texts?"

Our?

"W-What?" San Diego could get warm sometimes -- but the hallway was boiling lava to your skin right now. Revets of sweat trickled down your forehead and you stood stark still in front of her. "Shauna?"

"Hi, Landry," she purred, reaching out one of her arms and gesturing for you to come into your own apartment. "We have a lot of catching up to do."

You went to move forward past her and give her the widest of berths you could afford. She did not follow you closely but went to grab the bags that you had, in your shock, left in the hallway before following you.

You saw a figure on your sofa sprawled out like a cat that had claimed the nicest piece of furniture in the house. High-ankle combat boots, tight fitting black jeans, messy bleach blonde hair and an angular sleek face.

"Natalie," you blurt. She turns her head to you. She looked just like she did ten years ago in the Wilderness, but the bags under her eyes from the stress of trying to keep a bunch of people alive . . . that was gone. There was fresh life there.

Her eyes softened around the edges and she turned her body so she could face you. She had a gold band around her ring finger -- the only thing that truly stood out as very un-Nat like to you.

You tried not to stare at the band too long before moving your gaze back to her face. Her red lips were smiling, so unlike the sharp sneers Shauna doned and always so warm.

"Hey, baby," she husked. "You cut your hair."

You had few options now that they were somehow in your home; your safe space now made a den of danger.

So you offered to make them dinner with the haul you retrieved from the store. You did not know Shauna and Natalie as they were back when you were college students, and you wanted to never be the girl who had to do what she did to stay alive.

A dinner may keep you in a safe zone and give you time to think. They accepted -- but Shauna wanted to help. She plopped your traitorous dog onto Nat's lap and followed you into your small, open kitchen to unpack your groceries.

She had not changed much, either. She was still incredibly fit as though she never left the soccer life. Her hair was in wavy rings held back by a ponytail and some of her distinct freckles had faded into a softer dusting, but the predatory glitter was still very Shauna.

She also had a band around her ring finger; gold with a glittery diamond showing off.

"Pretty," you commented casually, nodding to the ring as you pulled out your cutting board and lay aside some lettuce, cucumber, onion, and tomatoes for a salad.

Shauna had a chicken breast that you had planned on saving for girl's night with Clary in her hands. She glanced at the ring, and she seemed to soften with fondness briefly. "Thank you. Nat chose well, don't you think?"

"Nat?" you could not hide your surprise if you tried, eyebrows disappearing into your hairline as you rolled the tomato between your hand and the cutting board, almost squeezing it flat. "Wow -- shit. Unexpected, but -- uhh -- congratulations." Shauna's nose wrinkled in a show of amusement. "Thank you. We married a couple of years after . . ." she trailed off, but her tone did not sound as though she hated discussing the past in the way you did.

"Oh." You chewed your lip. "Well, good for you guys."

Silence overtook the both of you as you started your respective roles in creating dinner. You couldn't help but be compared to those lions that take on gazelle and simply co-exist with them for days at a time before eating them or letting them go, in rarer cases.

You thumbed the hilt of the knife comfortingly and glanced slowly at Shauna. "How did you find me?"

Shauna was applying some sort of homemade rub that had a strong smell of spice onto the chicken. She let you sit in anticipation while she did this and while she washed her hands.

Finally, "Misty."

Fucking Misty Quigley. If you ever got your hands on her, you'll make her into a human experiment the likes which even the most cruel of humanity would gawk at.

"I was sure I made it clear I did not want to be found," you said flatly.

Shauna pressed some buttons on your oven. "We gave you long enough," she said like that answered every single question ever.

"This is why I burned bridges," you snapped, slicing the tomato thinner than intended, unlike the previous slices. "I created a life for myself here, Shauna. That girl from before the rescue died in the Wilderness."

Shauna was quiet as she waited for the oven to heat up; it was the type of quiet that was tense and displeased with a buildup that had no release system.

"I want," you continued when she said nothing else, "a quiet life. No Wilderness, no reminders of the crash, no existing parts of who I had to become in order to still know I was alive. I hated that girl so I created a woman I could stand being."

A hand brushed the back of your neck before grasping it. It was a natural reflex -- ten years old and still you melted into it like nothing had changed. The dull edges of her ring pressed into your skin like a hot brand.

"Natalie and I picked up our entire lives and moved down here," she confesses, ice coating the words she spoke, "after we gave you your fucking space and let you do whatever you needed to do. Did you really think you were truly ever out of our sights? That we let you go?"

Pinpricks of heat prodded at your eyes as she locked you in place, a hazy assault of unwelcome memories starting to rip apart scars that you had spent years treating and disguising.

"Why?"

Shauna pressed a lingering kiss behind your ear. "Because you have always been ours. Do you want to keep your career -- make sure the hard work put into this life-saving job of yours doesn't go away?"

You swallowed under her fingers. She felt it and laughed breathily. "I bet so. Be good for us. Your career isn't in our sights -- we just want the rest of you."

She released you just like that, backing away as the oven screamed out to alert it was heated up.

"Finish the salad and set the table," Shauna orders like she did not just blackmail you, "Then go sit with Nat."

Nat did not make you talk much until you were both called to the table to eat. Three portions of the meal were set out and as clanking of silverware dominated the silence next to the heavy panting of Nibbles begging at your feet, you could feel Nat and Shauna watching your movements.

"We've read some of your research," Nat commented as she drank from the glass of wine. The bottle Shauna had found was half opened in your fridge, cheap but she poured three glasses anyway. "You have a lot of passion for pediatrics."

You picked at your chicken. It was extremely tender and images of Shauna swinging the butcher's knife and delivering the fate through your meals every day for a year came back like a slap to the face.

Shauna was staring, fork struck into her slice of chicken as she waited for a response from you. "Yeah," you murmured. "Working with the kids is why I stayed in pediatrics. But that's why a lot of people in that branch stay."

"Isn't it sad?" Shauna asked, surprising you, "For the ones that don't make it?"

"Absolutely," you affirm. "But it is the ones that we lose that make me want to make sure that we save the ones we can while working endlessly to search for ways to try prevent losses like those."

Something ruminating crossed over the brunette's features and Nat nudged your foot with her own under the table. "That's great, sweetheart. You're doing so much good."

You hoped so, but you did not express it out loud. You did not want to give into them like this -- stalking you, barging into your home, sitting at the fucking table to share a meal with you like you were just old friends.

"So you moved to San Diego?" you asked awkwardly, avoiding wording that indicates you would encourage any actions they took being for you.

"A month ago," Nat confirmed. "We got a house in La Jolla that's about a fifteen minute walk to the beach. I think you'd love it."

"Mm, well good for you guys." You lifted your wine glass awkwardly and then took a sip.

Dinner was continued with conversation mostly brought up by Nat and Shauna -- both of them knowing full well you were likely receding in on yourself like you used to.

"Well," you started when the kitchen was cleaned and wine was finished, "it was nice catching up . . . but . . ."

Shauna smiled a little in such an unsettling way that you had to resist the urge to take a step back. She had her fingers lazily hooked into the pockets of her pants, regarding you like a fine piece of artwork.

"Nat."

Hands slithered under your shirt from behind, long fingers tapping along your stomach while Shauna circled the both of you with little hurry.

“Stop,” you instantly said as your hands flew up to snatch her hands away from your skin. You’ve had a compromised enjoyment of touch after the crash — this was no exception. This was the reason for it.

“No,” Shauna said simply in a drawl, familiarity coating it like a thick and angry thing.

You kept a tight, iron grip on Nat’s smooth, but calloused hands until Shauna stalked toward and lashed out.

It was so quick and the sting on your skin was there before your brain caught up to what had just occurred. Shauna had hit you, open-palmed, across the cheek with a force that promised worse.

She wasn’t done. She snatched your throat in cold fingers, pressing down just so on the points of pressure that would cut off your air way as she forces your face to lean up to gaze at her, smiling at whatever she found on your face.

“Be a good slut,” she started, nails digging grooves into your skin as she applied more pressure, “and do as we say. Nod if you understand, you fucking useless whore.”

You broke into tears but the nod followed behind quickly, your neck hardly moving under her piercing hold. She kept you there for a bit longer anyways, seeming to enjoy the way she made you cry.

“Shauna,” Nat cooed behind you as she managed to untangle her hands from yours, having noted the weakened grip. Her palms returned to rubbing up and down your chest and stomach almost soothingly. “Couldn’t you be nicer? It’s been a while.”

“Exactly,” Shauna said coldly, even as her fingers released some of the tension. A throbbing began to flow underneath the heat of her fingers where she had made her claim.

She had ensured you would feel her fingers even when she released your neck, later.

“Remember your place, baby,” Shauna told you, jaw clenching. “You’re extremely smart so you and I both know it’s not been lost on you.”

Nat’s teeth began scraping softly down the backside of your collarbone, creating a shiver through your spine as her hands worked under your bra. “She can be so mean, can’t she?” Nat whispered conspiratorially, nipping at the edge of the bone before moving along your shoulder.

Shauna wasn’t looking at you now, but just a little to the side. Where Nat’s head rested as she sucked bruises into your skin. The sight of them like this — the disgusting, reviving part of you — jolted at it.

Your thighs twitched in effort to conceal your need to cross them. You were so fucking wet.

Shauna notices the movement despite looking zeroed in on her wife’s devoted attentions, her gaze flickering to how your legs trembled with effort. You were only being held up by Nat’s hold and Shauna’s barely-there position on your throat.

“You act as though you built a fortress around this . . .” She rolled her eyes, “new personified version of yourself. But I can see the weaknesses in the walls, baby. You’re still the same beast under the new name and new life. Just like us.”

It was a truth that you had denied so long — and Shauna speaking it aloud had you ripping your body away with such brute force that even Nat couldn’t stop it in time. You stumbled clumsily backward toward your bedroom, air conditioning hitting your raw cheeks and drying the tears.

“Get out,” you demand, voice shaking and near begging. “Please leave me alone. It’s too much.”

But they didn’t leave — they followed you deeper into your space, cornering you into the bedroom as Shauna bundled her fist into the front of your shirt and roughly pushed you toward the bed under the back of your knees gave way.

She climbed on top of you as Nat padded around, looking through your items and opening drawers. So many violations overwhelming you in one instance. You shoved at Shauna’s arms but her face twisted and she grasped them, pinning them above you as she used her knees to pry open your thighs as wide as your body would allow.

You cried out. “Stop! Stop it!”

“Shut up.” She spat, purposefully watching as droplets of saliva spread across your face. Her eyes glinted ferally, like this was some form of marking that seeped into your skin and your blood.

“Nat what the fuck are you looking for? Get the fuck over here,” Shauna snapped, frustrated at her wife’s shifting around through your belongings.

Natalie did not answer at first — which you thought was extremely bold of her when Shauna was in a mood like this — but then she popped out of your closet with your six inch dildo.

Your eyes widened and so did Shauna’s. Her grip then became shackles to your wrists. “Oh, my little slut,” she murmured, eyes drifting back to you as Nat came over.

The blonde looked too proud of herself for your liking. “Is it a strapless?” Shauna demanded, but not to you. You weren’t a who to them right now.

“Looks to be,” Nat said, inspecting it closely. She smiled sweetly at you. “Don’t worry, baby. I’ll make sure she’s gentle.”

Shauna scoffed as Nat went to work undressing her wife so that you would have no chance of escaping. If Shauna had to lift a limb from you, Nat somehow found a way to use one of hers to keep you in place. It was a slow process and you were crawling out of your skin. No amount of effort worked in your favor.

“Your turn, precious,” Nat murmured as she watched from above your head as Shauna inserts one of the ends of the dildo into her self. Your mind blanks out as you beg for them to let you go.

Somehow you’re naked. How did you get naked?

Your clothes were ripped away, it seemed.

Natalie ran fingers through your hair, talking to you in what she hoped to have been a soothing tone. It grated against your ear drums as Shauna’s hands ran along your body as she lifted herself over you. Her eyes darkened, locked with yours.

Then she thrusted hard into you — she did not go gently, nor did she check how wet you were. Thankfully your body had betrayed you as it always had with them — and though you were unprepared for the size of the dildo [ it had been a gift from Clary as a gag, unused and collecting dust ], it slid in.

It was painful and you sobbed out as Shauna’s shackled embrace loosened enough for your hands to fly up and dig into her bare back. She did not allow adjustment — this was not going to be a sweet fucking.

“You’re a fucking slut, you know?” the brunette whispered, her voice shakier than you’ve ever heard her. She was starting at a punishing pace — and you feared what that meant for when she was close to her orgasm. “You claim to not want us, you fucking hate us, but here you are wet as can be and taking me like a goddamn whore.”

You choked on words that never came to fruition, sobs replacing them instead as pain and something close to pleasure intertwined as she fucked you, hips angling in a way that told you she was seeking both her pleasure and something else in the process.

Nat was watching, but her clothes stayed on as she did. “You’re doing so well, baby,” she told you gently, keeping your head in her lap as you took what Shauna gave, “You’re so pretty like this. Oh, your eyes. They’re turning fuzzy.”

“That’s what happens,” Shauna breathed out, a hand spearing out to press flat into the mattress next to your head. She paused her brutality, deep inside you, and adjusted.

Her chest was heaving and she looked nothing short of animalistic as she looked you in the eye. You tried to focus on her face, but so many sensations were overworking you. She was taking you apart piece by piece and throwing your crafted shield away.

“I’m going to wreck you,” she promised, and followed it up with a brutal thrust that landed perfectly into your g-spot as though —

She did remember your body. Too well. You sobbed as your nails ran deeply down her skin. Her other hand freed you, feeling confident that you no longer had the power to make an attempt to escape.

She lifted her body enough, body to reveal the space between your stomachs. With the diamond glinting along her hand, she twisted the ring further up her finger.

“Shauna,” Nat warned, tinged with concern. Your eyes lazily drifted to her face, and you saw her shaking her head.

Shauna ignored her wife and pressed the sharp edges of the diamond into your skin and began to cut. It wasn’t a slow process and you yelled out, now trying to escape her hold.

“H-hurts,” you sobbed as the dildo pressed deeper into you and had you seeing stars. Her thrusting was in tune with the way she cut deep marks into your skin, creating some design.

Warm blood trickled down your stomach as she pulled the reddened ring away. It was a a beautiful diamond — even soaked in your blood and she lifted her finger to her mouth to clean it as she used her other hand to reach down to your clit.

Holding herself up by the cock inside of you and the rolling of your hips, she pressed so deep and hard on your clit that your body didn’t have a chance to process before locking up.

Nat held you through the most intense orgasm of your life, and her hand came down to gently rest across your mouth and muffle the throat tearing screams that it encouraged.

Shauna’s orgasm was not far behind, her chest falling on top of you and her thrusts increasing tenfold. She did not allow you to recover for a second — and before she managed to reach her own peak, she sent you hurtling into three more.

Your brain emptied as your body tried to accept the mirrored pain and pleasure that became your life. Nothing else made sense in your world at the moment, but Nat was pressing soft kisses against wet skin, Shauna was gasping and running her cheek across yours as she shook through waves of her own high, and your entire being was becoming reborn.

The three of you remained like this for a while, aftershocks waving through you as your walls clenched the dildo in deeper. Shauna forced out a breath each time it happened, but otherwise made no comment.

You felt disgusting in the aftermath. Emotions that you never really faced were beginning to surface in Shauna and Natalie’s ultimate destruction of your coverup, and you had no way to defend yourself from them.

“It’s okay,” Nat whispered for the nth time that night, trying to encourage a belief in the statement. She had shifted her position so she was lying on her side behind your head. You could hear her heartbeat — calm and rhythmic.

It was a strange comfort in the upheaval of your carefully planted existence.

Shauna lifted her chin from your shoulder and moved her hand. She didn’t pause, even when you flinched at her movement, but she was surprisingly very gentle as her fingers wiped at the fresh tears.

“You did so well,” her low voice rasped, and she sounded honest. Pleased. Proud. “You took it all so beautifully.”

You didn’t know what to say. She didn’t seem to mind. She moved her body down, shifting the dildo inside of you and sending a shiver through your body.

“Hurts,” you whispered when she sent you a questioning brow raise.

Shauna nodded, “Okay, sweetheart. Let me pull out and check the cut. Can you do that for me, pretty girl? Be a little brave?”

Did you have any other option?

Natalie ran her fingers across your sweat soaked arms. “I’ve got you,” she promises, “We both do.”

Taking that as your consent where it wasn’t, Shauna slowly began pulling out. You instinctively locked up, your knees curling in, but Shauna stopped them and kept slowly moving until it was completely out. It was soaked heavily with your juices.

She pulled the other end out of herself and tossed it to the floor.

“Nibbles will get it,” you whispered disapprovingly. “Not on the floor.”

Shauna rolled her eyes, hard, but detangled herself from your body and grabbed the dildo and took it off into the bathroom — where she stayed for a longer time than expected.

When she returned she had a damp, warm rag in hand and her hair was in a messy bun, flannel the only thing she wore. She kneeled down over you again and slowly began wiping you down, working her way up. She got to the cut in your skin and was slow in her care of it.

“Do you have any thing we can put on this?” she murmured to you.

“Cabinet,” you whispered.

As Shauna once more left to go in search for the cream, you lifted your head to peer down at the engraving she had carved into your skin with her ring:

S.S.+N.S.

[usomads]

You're My Problem // Tama Tonga x Reader

Author’s Note -> Hiiii, so idk how I feel about this honestly but I wanted to get my first Tama story out (we’re starving out here lol) and here’s what I came up with. Lmk if you have any recs for him, and as always, happy reading!!!

Plot -> You and Tama can’t stand each other. Locked in a room with him by force, will the two of you make up or will the hate continue?

Pairings -> Tama Tonga x Fem!Reader

Warnings -> Cursing, Choking, Degradation, Oral Receiving (M!Receiving, F!Receiving), Hair Pulling, Unprotected P in V, Creampie, MDNI

Word Count -> 2.4k

It was impossible to point to a specific incident that led to you and Tama despising each other so deeply, it seemed as if from the moment you met it was clear the two of you would never get along. You were assigned as a producer for the Bloodline storyline, which unfortunately meant that you were working closely with him every single week. None of the other members had a problem with you. In fact, they loved you, but Tama never shared that sentiment. So here you were in the Bloodline’s locker room trying to pitch the promo they’d be doing later in the night but, of course, Tama was being difficult as usual.

“You’re insufferable, you know that? I can’t even get this fuckin’ promo out without you bitching at me every five seconds. God, it’s like you do this shit on purpose-”

“Maybe you just don’t know how to do your fuckin’ job, you ever think of that, Y/N? Oh, I’m sorry, you’re never the problem, right? Shit goes sideways at least once a week but hey, it couldn’t possibly be Little Miss Perfect right?” 

“Oh, so now you think you can tell me how to do my own job? I don’t see the other three struggling with it, so that would just narrow it down to you, right? You wanna talk about me not doing my job right, look in the mirror assho-”

“Both of you, please, shut the fuck up already. It’s every week with this shit, I’m fuckin’ tired of it. Can you just get along, for once?” Sefa groaned, clearly annoyed with the two of you constantly arguing.

“Well if she weren’t such a stuck up bitch then ma-”

“The fuck did you just call me?!” You stood from your seat at Tama’s words, instantly being provoked but was stopped by Sefa stepping in front of you, preventing you from getting in Tama’s face.

“Jesus fuckin’ christ, enough. Both of you need to calm the fuck down-”

“Fuck you mean, ‘calm down’? Did you not just hear what he said? Now get outta my way so I can-”

“No, none of that shit. We got more important business to tend to. Y/N, your promo idea is great, like always. And Tama,” he looked in the Tongan’s direction, “that was fuckin’ uncalled for. I don’t give a fuck how much you don’t like her, callin’ her a bitch is not cool, uce. But both of you,” he pointed between the two of you, “need to figure out whatever this issue is. I can’t have y’all bitchin’ at each other all the time, shit’s annoying as hell. So you know what, I’ve got an idea…” Sefa trailed off. “Me, Jacob, and Tonga are gonna go talk to creative about some shit real quick, and you two,” he and the other two walked towards the door, “are gonna talk this shit out. And I’m not lettin’ y’all outta here until ‘til you do.” You and Tama both tried to say something to stop them but went ignored as Jacob, Tonga, and Sefa went out the door and closed it behind them, locking it in the process. You let out a huff of annoyance, slouching in your seat.

“You realize this is your fault, right?” You spoke out loud, not looking at Tama. “If you weren’t such a fuckin’ dick then we wouldn’t be here right now. Once again, you gotta fuck something up...” 

Tama laughed obnoxiously, “My fault? Oh, don’t act all fuckin’ innocent here, Y/N. You know damn well you had just as much a part in this as I did. Don’t play all innocent now, Sefa ain’t here to defend you.”

You stood up abruptly, ignoring him as you walked to the door and tested the doorknob, finding it was indeed locked. “You’ve gotta be kidding… he fuckin’ locked us in here?!”

Tama stood up and walked over to the door, brushing by you to try the door himself. “There’s no way he did that shit, you’re just being fuckin’ dramatic,” he twisted the knob to also find it locked, you scoffing as he had to try it himself. You step to him, forcing him to look at you as you spoke.

“What the fuck is your issue, Tama? I don’t get it,” you asked, demanding an answer. “Like, what the fuck did I ever do to you? I tried being nice to you at first, I really did, but you’ve been such a fuckin’ prick ever since I met you that you’ve made that literally impossible.” Tama fumed as he pushed your back against the door, stepping dangerously close to you. Your mind felt dizzy as he stood over you, him peering down at you with his intense gaze. Your stomach had all of a sudden become a bundle of nerves as you watched his face, anxious of what he might say or do, but deep down there was a small part of you that enjoyed how intimidated you were by him. You hated how much you enjoyed this, trying desperately to put those thoughts to the side and forget about them completely, but he wouldn’t let you. His stare wouldn’t let you. The heat emanating from his body wouldn’t let you. And his next words certainly wouldn’t either.

“You wanna know what my problem is, Y/N? You. You’re my problem.”

“Well, no shit, I fuckin’ knew that dumba-” your words caught in your throat as he stepped impossibly closer and wrapped a hand around your neck, your bodies nearly touching. You gasped at the feeling and felt your eyes begin to roll to the back of your head, trying hard to maintain a level of self control under his touch.

“My problem is every time you talk back or insult me, I wanna shove my cock down your throat right then and there to shut you up.” He growled. “Been tryin’ so hard not to ruin you since the moment I met you, ‘s why I been actin’ like I can’t stand your ass. But the more bold you been gettin’ with me,” he leaned down to your ear, “the more I wanna fuck that attitude of yours right outta ya.” You bite your lip at his words, trying your best to suppress the moans that are daring to fall off your lips. Tama raises his head and meets your gaze once more, watching you try desperately to contain yourself underneath him. Your breath quickens as his eyes scan your features, looking for any sign of surrender to him. “Not so bold anymore, huh?” Your lip bite morphs into a smirk, finding your confidence at his teasing remark.

“You gonna sit here and continue to talk outta your ass, or you gonna man up and fuckin’ kiss me already?”

He chuckles lowly before smashing his lips to yours, the grip on your throat tightening and a moan swallowed by your lips coming from his mouth. You grab him by the shirt and pull him closer, craving his touch as your lips dance along his. He forces his tongue in your mouth, dominating it as his other hand grips your hip. Wetness begins to pool at your core, the overwhelming sexual desire between you two palpable as you both fight for dominance. The two of you switch positions; Tama’s back against the door as you separate. Your swollen lips paint a smirk as your hands travel to the hem of his shirt, tugging on the fabric and prompting him to remove it. The bulge in his pants is prominent, silently aching for you as your fingers dance along his waistline. Tama watches your actions- watches you toy with him.

“Y/N, if you don’t…”

“Don’t what? You were the one who called me a bitch earlier, might as well play the part…” you begin to back away from him but his hand grabs your wrist tightly and pulls you to him.

“I don’t think so,” his eyes darken as he speaks to you in a commanding tone. “Get on your knees.”

“Make me.”

Tama grabs your shoulders, shoving you down and undoing his pants to free himself. His cock hits his stomach as he pulls his boxers down, veins prominently detailing the thick shaft as precum leaks from the swollen tip. You look up at him through your lashes, Tama taking a mental picture of the sight of your doe eyes making eye contact with his. To him, the sight of you peering up at him with bruised lips, mere inches away from having your mouth on him was the sexiest thing he’s ever witnessed. You give him a wink and wrap your hand around him, spitting on his dick and slowly stroking it. He groans when you touch him, weaving his fingers into your hair. Your tongue slowly trails from base to tip, tracing the outlines of his veins and giving kitten licks to the swollen head, making him shiver.

“Mmm, fuck Y/N, quit teasin’,” he moaned, gripping your hair harder. You didn’t listen, continuing your actions until he tugs your head back to look at him, a gasp slipping from your mouth and allowing him to slide his tip inside. “You wanna play, huh? Fine by me, baby, let’s play.” He pushes your head slowly down his length, forcing you to relax your jaw and throat to open yourself up to him. You feel his cock hit the back of your throat and gag, eliciting a groan from him as your throat tightens around him. “Mmm, you think you’re so big and bad, ain’t so big now with this dick down your throat, huh?” You moan around his cock, your eyes watering as he thrusts himself in your mouth. He fucks your throat violently, his hips bucking at an unrelenting pace as tears stream your face and you choke on him. He pulls out, allowing you to catch your breath but continues to stroke himself as he looks down at you. “Look at you, you’re a mess. Such a fuckin’ slut f’me, chokin’ on my cock.” You whine at his words, you had never been one for name calling but the way it glided off his tongue made you weak in the knees. “Oh, you like that, huh? C’mere, you wanna be my slut so bad imma fuck you like one.” He lifts you back to your feet, kneeling down and taking off your bottoms, leaving you in your panties. He moves them to the side, collecting your wetness with his fingers. “Damn, baby girl, I did all this? You’re a fuckin’ mess for me,” he smirked.

“Tama, I swear to God…”

“Nah, you wanted to play earlier, remember? Now it’s my turn.”

“Tama…”

“Whatchu want, hmm? Imma need a little more convincing than that, sweetheart.” You whined and laid your head against the door, eyes gluing shut as his fingers teased close to your aching core but would never quite touch it. 

“Please…” you mumbled softly.

“Sorry, I didn’t catch that. What were you sayin’?” He smirked, loving how desperate you were for him.

“Fuck, Tama, please. Please, just fuckin’ touch me alre- oh fuckkk.” His tongue making contact with your dripping folds cut you short, your eyes rolling back as his tongue ravaged your pussy. He moaned as he lapped at you, the vibration sending chills throughout your body. He lifts his head and blows cool air on your clit before wrapping his lips around the swollen bud, making you cry out his name and tangle your hands in his hair. He continued to assault your pussy with his tongue, and it wasn’t long before your legs were shaking underneath him.

“S-shit, Tama I-” He stops his movements, slowly rising back to his feet and giving you a sinister look. 

“Oh, you thought I was gonna let you cum so easily?” He turns you around, pressing your front against the cool surface of the door. “Nah, baby, you cum when I let you.” His tip pokes at your entrance before pushing its way in, the thickness of his cock filling you instantly. He places a hand on the side of your head, pushing it into the door as he pounds into you mercilessly. You moan his name loud, unable to control yourself as Tama fully dominates you.

“Fuckk, such a pretty lil’ slut f’me. Takin’ me so well.. you love this dick don’t you, baby girl? Tell Daddy how much you love his cock.” He continues to fuck you hard, your skin slapping echoing the room. “I- I, oh fuck, s-so good. I-”

“That’s it, mama, let the whole fuckin’ arena know who’s fuckin’ you this good.” He grabs your hair and pulls, arching your back and he slams his hips into you. You cry out his name, the new angle hitting your spot in all the right ways. You know you’re close- your pussy tightens around him and he groans. “Lost that attitude, didn’t you? All it took was to fill you full of good dick and you shut right up… fuck, baby, so fuckin’ tight f’me. Squeezing the fuck outta my dick. Keep that shit up and imma fill this pussy up.” 

“P-please..”

“Oh, you dirty fuckin’ slut, you want that, don’t you?” You whimper in response. “Imma give that shit to you baby, gotta cum for me first. C’mon, ma, nut all over this dick.” His hips drive into you deeper than before, daring you to come undone, and you do. You cum hard, your vision turning white and your limbs shaking violently as you release all over him. Your pussy tightens one last time and Tama curses your name, snapping his hips into you and releasing deep inside your pussy.  He stills inside you, allowing his cum to completely fill you as the two of you attempt to catch your breath. He plants kisses on the side of your neck, allowing you to ride out your orgasm. After a moment he pulls out of you, reaching down to your panties and moving them back in place, trapping his cum inside. You two rest for a moment, skin to skin as he holds you in his arms, the both of you stuck in a blissful trance until a loud knocking raps from the other side of the door. 

“Aye, y’all make up yet? Got a segment to get ready for, we’re coming in.” 

Shit.

[steddiehyperfixation]

don't you forget about me (part two)

(part one)

Steve doesn’t know how long they sit there in silence, waiting. It’s making him insane. The seconds pass too slow; the seconds pass too fast. His mind is a storm; his mind is empty. He’s feeling too much; he’s not feeling at all. He paces the room; he sits catatonically against a wall. He needs to get out of here; he needs to stay. 

He’s been here before, just barely over a week ago, tense and anxious and despairing and waiting for news. But waiting to hear if Eddie will ever remember him again really should not feel this much worse than waiting to hear if Eddie will ever fucking breathe again. Steve thinks there must be something wrong with him. He’s being selfish and stupid. His pathological fucking need to be loved is not what’s important right now. Eddie is alive and awake and okay and that’s the only thing that really matters. That’s the only thing he should really care about.

Steve’s pacing again now, yanking his hands through his hair as he does laps around the room until Eddie finally appears in the doorway. 

Eddie must’ve just cracked a joke or something because the nurse is laughing as she pushes his bed into the room and he’s got this adorable grin on his face. Steve’s heart twists in his chest and he nearly bursts into tears all over again because god does he want nothing more than to press a kiss to those dimpled cheeks. 

“Good news, boys,” Eddie announces. “My brain is fully intact.”

“There’s no physical permanent damage to his brain,” the nurse elaborates. “His amnesia is likely a result of psychological trauma and the temporary disruption of brain function from blood loss and lack of oxygen that occurred at the time of his injury. But there is no obvious reason why he shouldn’t regain his full memory, given time.” 

So there’s hope. Steve breathes a sigh of relief. 

“That is good news,” Wayne agrees. 

Steve asks, “How much time?” 

The nurse gives an unhelpful shrug. “Impossible to say. It could be anywhere from days to months, or even years. I’m sorry, there’s no way for us to know.” 

Years. “Okay.” Steve pinches the bridge of his nose. He can keep it together. He can. “Thanks,” he tells the nurse. “I, uh-” He makes the mistake of looking at Eddie who looks right through him, and Steve can’t keep it together anymore actually. “I gotta update the kids,” he mutters, backing his way towards the door. Wayne nods in acknowledgment; no protests this time at Steve’s excuse to leave.

“See ya, Harrington,” Eddie calls after him, casual, impersonal, like they're nothing more than acquaintances passing by each other in a high school hallway.  

Steve can’t get out of that hospital fast enough. 

He makes it to his car in record time, slamming the door shut and sinking heavily into the driver’s seat. A ragged sob tries to claw its way up his throat now that he’s finally alone, but he forces it back, staving off his breakdown for just a little bit longer. As much as it was an excuse, he really does have to update the kids. 

Steve fishes his walkie out of the glove box. “Code - whatever, I don’t know. Code Eddie,” he says. He doesn’t remember the kids’ system of codes, nor would he be sure which one this news falls under even if he did. 

“Is he okay? Is he awake?” comes an immediate, eager response from Dustin. “Over.” 

“Yeah, he’s awake, and he’s fine, except he’s got pretty bad amnesia. The doctors say it should be temporary, but right now he doesn’t remember anything since May of ‘85,” Steve explains, trying his best to keep his voice even.

“Steve, come pick me up and take me to see him,” Dustin demands, “right now. Over.” 

“Me too. Over,” Mike chimes in before Steve can respond. 

“And us,” Erica adds as well. 

Steve pauses for a second, both to steady his own breath and to make sure no one else wants to jump in on this too, before he reminds them, “He won’t know you, any of you.” 

“I don’t care,” Dustin says, bossy as ever. “Just come get me. Over.” 

“Jesus Christ, kid,” Steve mutters to himself. He sucks in another breath; it wobbles dangerously. He’s just about reached his limit on how long he can keep himself from falling apart. “I- I need a minute, alright?” he manages through the walkie. “Can you just give me, like, an hour? And then I’ll take you guys to visit Eddie.” 

Steve doesn’t wait for a response before he slams the antenna closed, tosses the walkie aside, and finally, finally lets himself shatter. That sob rips free from his throat, followed by another and another and another. Tears flood from his eyes; his nose runs. It’s an ugly, gross, visceral cry that leaves him exhausted and raw and aching to be held by the time the last sob shudders out of him. Drained and hollow, he craves the embrace of someone who knows him, someone who loves him. 

He sweeps up his broken pieces, wipes the mess of tears and snot off his face, and drives to Robin’s house.

“Steve, oh my god.” Robin pulls him into a hug the second she opens the door and sees the look on his face. Steve clings to her. “What happened?” 

“Eddie’s awake,” he mutters dismally. 

“Oh! Not the tone I’d expect you to deliver that news in, but okay.” Robin pulls back, looking at him with narrow-eyed concern and confusion as she analyzes his puffy eyes and red nose and swollen lips. “And you look like you’ve just been crying because…?”

“Because he doesn’t remember me, Rob,” Steve sighs. “He doesn’t remember anything from the past 11 months.” 

Robin’s eyes go wide now. “Shit,” she says, so plainly it startles a short laugh out of Steve. 

“Yeah,” he agrees. “Shit.” 

She asks him more questions as she walks down the hallway so they can talk in her room. Steve once again reiterates what was said at the hospital. 

“So you didn’t tell him you two were a thing?” Robin asks, closing her door behind them. 

“Of course I didn’t.” Steve flops back onto her bed. “I didn’t want to spook him.” 

She sits beside him. “You didn’t want to spook him,” she repeats, looking down at him with raised eyebrows, “but you told him about Vecna.” 

“Well, yeah. I just-” He lifts his arms to gesture vaguely into the air as he tries to explain himself. “I mean, imagine how you would feel if you woke up in a hospital and some random guy you’ve spoken to maybe twice was by your bedside telling you you’ve been in a relationship with him for the past 9 months.” 

“Uh, I don’t know, dingus, probably about the same as I’d feel if said guy told me I’d nearly died fighting some evil twisted creature from a hell dimension,” Robin retorts.

Steve drops his hands onto his chest with a huff, shaking his head. “No, trust me. He seemed far less surprised by that than he did to hear that we were even just friends,” he says, a bit bitterly. Tears are pricking at his eyes again as he looks up at his best friend. “You didn’t see the way he looked at me, Robin. All he saw was King Steve.”

Robin softens, snark replaced with sympathy. “That sucks, Steve. I’m so sorry.” 

Steve sighs in agreement that yes this really fucking sucks. He sits up and scoots back so that he’s slumped against the wall, hitting the back of his head against it. “I think I’m a horrible person,” he admits, just venting now, “because of course I’m glad Eddie’s alive and all I really want is for him to be okay, and I know the nurse said he should remember eventually, but there’s still some sick part of me that thinks maybe it would’ve hurt less if he had just died.”

“I don’t think that makes you a horrible person,” Robin assures him as she settles next to him, shoulder to shoulder. “I think you’re just grieving, and grief is weird sometimes.”

“It was one of the worst things I’ve ever felt,” he mutters, “when he looked at me without recognition. To see it on his face, just the- the absence of everything that we’d built. I’ve never felt so- so- I don’t know, it was like I couldn’t breathe. He just- he doesn’t know that I love him. He…he doesn’t know that he loved me...” 

Because that’s what it is, isn’t it? It’s not that he’s lost someone that he loves, it’s that he’s lost someone who loves him. Because Eddie’s not gone, just his love for Steve is, and that’s what’s tearing him apart. It’s the fact that there’s one less person in the world who loves him. It’s the fact that Steve’s got this big gaping hole inside of him that’s always made him so desperate to be loved, liked, wanted, needed; and his biggest fucking fear is becoming obsolete. He could probably trace it back to his parents, the first to forget him, the first to stop loving him, but the fact remains that now Eddie has fulfilled that fear too. Now Eddie has carved that pit a little deeper, a little darker, validating the voice that whispers within it and tells Steve that he is forgettable, unlovable, so easy to abandon and erase. 

“Well, I love you,” Robin tells him, like she can read his mind (which, at this point, she probably can). She slides an arm around his shoulders, hugs him close. “And I’m not going anywhere.” 

Fragile as he is right now, Steve falls apart again in her arms, and she holds him together. Because she knows him, because she loves him.

It’s a quieter cry this time, soft and sniffly. Whereas the last one wracked through his body and left him fatigued, this one flows from him almost gently, and when his tears finally subside and he lifts his head from where it had been buried in his friend’s shoulder, Steve actually feels a little bit better, a little bit stronger. Which is good, because he’s gonna have to face Eddie again soon. 

“Thank you,” he says quietly as he pulls away from Robin, wiping at his eyes and glancing at the clock on her nightstand. It’s definitely been an hour by now, probably more. He stands. “I have to go, I promised the kids I’d take them to see Eddie.” 

“Then I’m coming too.” Robin stands with him. “For moral support.” 

Steve gives her a grateful smile. “I love you so fucking much, you know that?” 

“Yeah.” She grins at him. “I know.” 

~ 

The nurses have changed his bandages and upped his morphine, so Eddie’s considerably hazy now but at least he can raise his headrest and prop himself up a bit without nearly blacking out from pain. He’s boredly flicking through channels on the shitty TV in front of him, alone since Wayne had to leave for work, when Harrington returns followed by a very unexpected group consisting of Robin Buckley and four strange children. 

“Sorry,” Harrington announces their presence with an apologetic shrug, “I know you don’t know them anymore, but they insisted.” 

“Eddie!” a pudgy, curly-haired kid shouts before Eddie can even react, coming barrelling towards him and trying to hug him. 

“Ow!” Eddie yelps, pain flaring even through the extra morphine. “Fucking Christ, kid! Be careful!” 

The kid jumps back immediately, eyes wide. “Shit. Sorry.” 

“S’fine,” Eddie grumbles.

The kid looks at him expectantly for a moment before seeming to realize, “Oh, right, you don’t remember me. I’m Dustin.” 

“Ah, so you’re the guy I sacrificed myself for,” Eddie mutters, and Dustin looks a little sheepish. That means these must be ‘the kids’ Harrington had been talking about earlier. He surveys the group for a second. “Actually, I think we have met before,” he tells Dustin. “And you too.” He glances at a pale, dark-haired kid. The other two - a Black boy with a flat-top and a younger Black girl - look less familiar, though. “There was this, uh, open day thing at the high school for next year’s incoming freshmen; I talked to you about Hellfire.”

“Yeah!” Dustin’s whole face lights up, so bright and infectious it makes Eddie grin too. “Yeah, you did!” 

“So you guys joined the club, then?” 

This sparks a very animated conversation about D&D, the rest of the kids (Mike, Lucas, and Erica, as they soon reintroduce themselves) gathering around his bed now too to join in. It makes him feel a bit more like himself again, familiar, normal. Except, of course, for the fact that they’re not only talking about how they defeated Vecna in Eddie’s “totally epic” and “sadistic” campaign (adjectives courtesy of Dustin and Mike respectively), but also filling in more pieces of the story of how they defeated him in real life too. Still, it’s nice, fun. He totally understands how he could’ve gotten attached to these kids.

At some point, Eddie glances over to find Harrington hanging back and just watching them talk, fondly, wistfully. Robin whispers something to him and he sort of smiles, just a trace, and whispers something back. They seem close, intimate. Eddie wonders if they’re dating, and then he wonders why that thought makes him feel a bit sick. He waves them over. Harrington looks like he’s about to protest, but Robin gives him a Look and he allows her to grab his hand and drag him to join the crowd around Eddie’s bed. 

“So, what’s your deal, Buckley?” Eddie asks her. He doesn’t know her very well, they’ve only crossed paths a few times in the bandroom, but right now that makes her the most familiar person in the room to him. “Are you and Harrington a thing now? Is that how you’re involved in all this?” 

Robin wrinkles her nose and drops Harrington’s hand. “Ew, no. Definitely not.” 

“She’s my best friend,” Harrington says. 

Eddie snorts, doesn’t know why he finds that so comical. (He’s starting to get tired and it’s making him loopy. Or maybe it’s just the morphine.) “You've got a funny choice of friends nowadays, don’t you? Me and band geek Buckley and a bunch of nerdy freshmen.” He looks at Harrington with incredulous amusement. “Who would've thought, huh? Steve Harrington, collector of geeks and freaks.” 

Harrington doesn’t seem to find it as funny. He shrugs. “Yeah, well, it’s better than King Steve, collector of asshole bullies and shallow one-night stands.” 

“Yeah, ‘course it is,” Eddie agrees through another huff of laughter that breaks off into a yawn. “Didn’t mean it as a bad thing, Stevie. Was a compliment.” 

“Alright.” The barest hint of a smile flickers across Harrington’s face now, but then he’s looking away and corralling the kids and saying, “We should head out, let you get some rest.” 

And Eddie kind of wishes he’d stay.

(part three!)

taglist: @romanticdestruction @daydreamsandcrashingwaves @paintsplatteredandimperfect @hallucinatedjosten @mugloversonly @estrellami-1 @alongcomesaspider @thatonebadideapanda @tell-me-a-secret-a-nice-one @dragonmama76 @wxrmland @nuggies4life @sirsnacksalot @myguiltyartpleasure @marklee-blackmore @vinteraltus @sebastiansstanswhore @0happyeverafter0 @scarlet-malfoy (only tagged people who explicitly asked to be tagged; if you would like to be added or removed from this list please lmk!)

[graciescott27]

Non-Disclosure Agreement! — M. Kaiser

Michael Kaiser slept with you once and now won’t leave you alone?!

Last Chapter! — Next Chapter!

CHAPTER TWO - NOT ALLOWED!

cw: very clearly toxic, private relationship, friends with benefits but not really friends, Kaiser, suggestive in a few places, language, talks about drinking, Sae Itoshi

Michael Kaiser x reader!

mdni!

word count: 1.6k

You had never found football any less interesting than you did in that moment. Michael Kaiser had gotten you a seat in the stupid fucking VIP box for a reason that only God knew. He was deranged, you were convinced of it. There was no explanation for anything the man did. You still had no idea why he said or did the things he did. You still had no idea why he had those stupid tattoos. You couldn’t even figure out why out of all of his hookups, you were the one he called back. Maybe it was because of your idiotic mistake of giving him your number. No, that couldn’t have been it. His fans were even crazier than he was, surely they had done way more than you had to get his attention.

The game was 1-2. Germany was winning. It was about twenty minutes into the second half and so far the most interesting thing that had happened so far was learning that the “one Japanese one” was actually Sae Itoshi. You had heard of him frequently over the past few years. You had even seen a few of his matches. He was a good player. He definitely seemed just like Kaiser: good on the field, terrible to deal with in person. He was probably calmer than Kaiser, at least. That was probably why Kaiser didn’t seem to like him all that much.

Why did Kaiser think you would like him? Did he even know enough about you to make that call?

Michael Kaiser kept looking up into the stands like a total idiot. He was just as collected as normal. He was playing just as well as normal. Any time you were around, though, Kaiser acted just a bit different than usual. It was difficult to place how. He probably didn’t even know the answer himself. There was always just a small shift in his demeanor when he knew you were watching. You were probably the only person who had noticed.

As the game finished and Germany finally won, you couldn’t help but scold yourself for agreeing to this. You had classes the next day. You had a paper to write. Your casual hookup was not more important than your degree. Maybe you were even dumber sober.

Just when you were standing up to leave, you got a text from ”Satan’s Favorite Child” telling you to meet him outside of the locker room. Normally you wouldn’t have been allowed anywhere near the core of the stadium, but he had gotten you “special permission”, whatever the hell that meant. After much wandering and many wrong turns, you somehow managed to make it to the locker rooms. You refused to step foot inside, not willing to risk getting flashed by any more footballers. Kaiser stepped out after just a few moments, still wearing his kit, still sweaty, and still smelling disgusting.

“I’m a bit surprised that you came, Liebling,” he smirked down at you, his brow cocked in amusement.

You scoffed. “Yeah, it’s really rare for me to come, isn’t it?”

He quirked his brow even further at that. “Any opening you see, huh?”

“If you give me a chance, I’m gonna make a sex joke. I’m only human,” you shrugged casually.

The locker room door opened again and Alexis Ness stepped through it. His eyes met Kaiser’s first, then darted over to you. He blinked, trying to register your presence, and then smiled. “Ah, you’re here! Kaiser was really worried that you wouldn’t come.”

Kaiser froze and turned to scowl at him. “Shut the fuck up.”

“Jesus Christ, you two have a really weird relationship…” you muttered, wincing. “Um… hello to you to, Alexis. You’re a lot less unnerving when I’m sober.”

His mouth turned into an “O” shape and he nodded enthusiastically with raised brows.

“Ness, go shower,” Kaiser commanded, not even looking at Ness as he spoke.

“Right, of course. I’ll leave you two alone,” Ness gave you a small wave and stepped back into the locker room.

Kaiser’s eyes never once left you throughout the entire interaction. You couldn’t tell if he was zoned out thinking or if he was trying to analyze you somehow. He finally spoke again when Ness closed the door and was officially gone from sight. “You saw Sae, right?”

“Yeah?” you raised a brow questioningly. Was he stupid or something? If you were watching the game, obviously you were going to see all of the players.

“I’m better than him, right?”

Oh. So that was what it was. You weren’t there because he finally started to care, or because he felt bad for treating you like you weren’t a person. You were there because he needed an opinion. Like any other woman trying to not to punch a man, you responded with pure sarcasm. “Aww, you’re such a pretty princess.”

“Mhm, thanks,” he scoffed.

“No problem, princess.”

“You should go talk to him,” he nodded all of a sudden. Noticing the confusion on your face, he clarified, “Sae.”

Oh dear God. You were not in the mood for this today. “Why?”

“Because you’d get along with him.”

“You gonna get jealous if I do?”

“Of course not,” he scoffed crossing his arms. He still didn’t look away from you once.

“I don’t believe you.” If you had learned anything about Michael Kaiser over the past few months, it was that you should never believe a word he said. Everything that left his mouth was just a narcissistic coverup for how sad his life truly was.

He huffed out a laugh. “You should. I’m fairly trustworthy, I think.”

“You thought wrong, then.”

“You wound me,” he feigned offense, unable to keep up the act for very long before the corner of his lips quirked up into a smirk.

“I’m sure I do,” you mirrored his expression, only causing his smirk to grow.

His demeanor relaxed just a bit. That was how you knew you were reaching the part of the conversation where he attempted to seem interested in your life. “Are your classes going well?”

You nodded. “Yes, actually. I’m about fourteen pages behind on a paper now because you dragged me to this game.”

“That’s unfortunate.”

“Yeah, I have a lot I need to catch up on.” You were praying that he would take that as a sign to let you leave, but like usual, Kaiser didn’t understand social cues.

“I’m sure.”

You groaned, finally turning around and beginning to step away. “Okay, I’m leaving.”

He laughed, grabbing your arm and pulling you back towards him. “Um, no, you’re not.”

“Oh my God,” you whined, pouting up at him dramatically. “What more do you want from me?”

“Bar and then my house possibly?”

Yeah, you should have never shown up there. All of your decisions were stupid, it was official. You did not have enough self-control to talk to him. Any time he mentioned taking you to his house, you wanted to scream. He wouldn’t be half as attractive as he was if he didn’t have that voice. But of course, devils are the most blessed out of everyone, and you have to suffer the consequences. Maybe later you could yell at your uterus to shut up for five seconds.

“Are you offering to get me drunk because you know that’s the only time I can stand to see your face?”

“Oh, absolutely,” he nodded, grinning.

“Ugh, fine. Sure,” you conceded. One of the worst of your bad decisions, admittedly. “Let me piss really quick and then you can drag me out of here by my hair.”

“Very unnecessary details, thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

You stumbled around the facilities, trying to find any kind of escape route that you could. If you found a way out without any help, then you could run from your poor critical thinking skills. You don’t manage to, of course. You end up down some long hallway instead, and find the locker rooms for the visiting team. Groaning at your failure to flee a crime scene, you turned around to figure out a way back to Kaiser. You weren’t looking as you turned, and ended up running straight into a very muscular chest.

Sae Itoshi.

Was your life turning into an 80’s sitcom? Was God laughing at you? Are devils entertainment to angels?

Sae gave you a nod of acknowledgment, then immediately turned to walk away. What the fuck? Maybe he was actually worse than Kaiser and that was why he apparently hated him so much. Nah. No one could be worse than that son of a bitch.

“Oh, hey, you’re Sae Itoshi, right?” you said in an attempt to make conversation. Maybe if you wasted enough time, Kaiser would get bored and walk away.

“Yeah?”

Oh, God, he was already boring you to death.

“That’s… cool. Michael Kaiser’s mentioned you a few times,” you nodded, giving a small, incredibly uncomfortable smile.

He responded with the same deadpan

expression. “You know Kaiser?”

“Uh, yeah. I’m… friends with him.” It was definitely a lie, sure, but it was a lot more comfortable to say than admit to a stranger that you occasionally fucked him.

“You don’t work here?”

“No…?”

By then, your brain was screaming at you to leave. This was a bad idea. You should just go get blackout drunk with Kaiser and submit an essay late in the morning.

“How did you get in, then?”

Very good question. You weren’t sure yourself. “Kaiser got access for me so we could talk after the game.”

“Interesting friendship,” he quirked a brow slightly. “How did you meet?”

That was an even better question.

@graciescott27

[sexy-monster-fucker]

Heeeeey! If you wanna right about Hoffman, I had this on my mind. (I wouldn't mind if you don't like it btw)

Reader is Strahm's wife. Their mariage is not going so well because of Jigsaw case. For some reasons there's a party at the police station and partners are allowed. But Strahm being work alcoholic, he left his wife alone during this event. Of course she seam bored and doesn't know any other of Strahm coworkers.

Mark being bored as well and knowing very well the reader is Strahm's wife. He decided to have a little fun with her, so of course there's flirting and sex jokes. He invites her at his place and they have a "funny" time together.

The next morning, Strahm is looking for his wife to go home but he can't find her. He calls her and he's only greeted by "Hoffman." :3

I instantly fell in love with this request and I’ve been writing it and dedicating so much time into it bc I love it so much!!! AHHHHHH. Thank you anon 😘

Mark Hoffman x Strahm’s Wife!Reader

CW: infidelity, drinking, oral f!receiving, degradation, p in v, kinda possessive mark??, some minor biting, creampie

~~~

You stood with arms folded over your chest. Anger brewing inside you. Feeling like a volcano ready to explode.

Here you were at your husband’s work party, with your husband’s coworkers, in a dress your husband picked out for you. Yet who just blew you off to head down to his office? Your husband.

Rushing downstairs so that he could investigate more on the Jigsaw Case.

He returned late night after night. Blowing off plans, ignoring every phone call, sleeping at the station sometimes, never asking how your day was. Ever since he took that stupid Jigsaw Killer case, he was not the same man you married. Obsessed and manic over finding who this guy is. You could not take it much longer.

You sat at the small round table in your dining area waiting for him to get home. He barged through the door around 8 p.m. The party started at 7. You were dressed in the dress he had picked out for you. He sighed as he hung his jacket on the back of the door, eyes not even coming up to meet yours.

“We need to talk,” you broke the silence between you.

He rolled his shoulders and eyes as he tugged at his tie. Ignoring you entirely. Heading towards your shared bedroom. Well, previously shared. Since he started coming home late, you decided to start sleeping on the couch so that he could have a better night’s sleep. That was the reason you told yourself anyway.

“Peter,” you dared. Anger spitting from your lips like venom. You heard him groan from the other room, coming back where you were in a new outfit. “We need to—“

“Oh, Jesus Christ, Y/N. Can’t you fucking save it til after the party?! We’re late already and I don’t have time for this!” Peter barked out at you. Heart sinking into the pits of your stomach as you gripped the paper on the table. Your lip twitched with rage.

Silently you stood up and began out the front door. Peter sighed as he followed closely behind you. A completely silent ride to the station followed…

And now here you were. Alone with a bunch of people you hardly know. Having to pretend like your marriage was not falling apart at the seams. Acting like your divorce papers did not lay on your kitchen table as you stood there.

You awkwardly exchanged casualties with each of his coworkers. Explaining how he had a big case he was working on and that’s why you were here all alone. Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment as person after person gave you an awkward look when you told them work was more important to your husband. Pity written on all of their faces.

Unable to bare the embarrassment any longer, you walked over to the open bar they had set up. Getting some of your favorite liquor mixed with your favorite soda to sip on. Hoping the alcohol would soothe your nerves. Observing as everyone else mingled happily. Wondering why your husband left you out of most gatherings with his coworkers. Maybe if he cared more you would be more comfortable with all these people.

“Y/N?”

A familiar voice broke you from your spiraling thoughts. The only of Peter’s coworkers you were familiar with: Mark Hoffman. He always seemed to be the one lingering late alongside your husband. Sometimes when you would wait at the station for Peter to be done, Mark would keep you company. Something that always enraged your husband. You had known Mark for quite sometime. Casually texting from time to time. Mindless compliments coming from him when he would notice you changed your hair or got your nails done. Always sending you some kind of gift on your birthday, a day you would often spend alone seeing as your husband valued work over you.

“Hi, Mark,” you smiled.

“What’re you doing here all alone?” He raised an eyebrow looking around for your husband. Making himself a drink as he stood next to you. The smell of his cologne taking over your senses. Had he always been this attractive?

“Well. Peter is out with his real wife right now,” you joked. Mark looked perplexed. “That stupid Jigsaw Case. He’s been more committed to that than he’s been to me our entire marriage,” you solemnly laughed.

“I honestly thought you’d be down there with him,” you folded your arms over your chest.

“Your husband isn’t exactly a huge fan of mine,” Mark sipped at the cup in his hand.

“I’m starting to think he isn’t of me either,” you sighed. Pinching the bridge of your nose in frustration. Mark side eyed you while you were not looking.

“Trouble in paradise?”

You snorted. “Paradise? Please. Closest thing I’ve came to paradise is a little purple bullet in my bed side drawer. Let’s just say, he’s got a surprise on the table for him when he gets home. If he ever comes home again.” Mark chuckled.

“Well, I hope he realizes what a good thing he’s losing,” Mark looked around the room while sipping his drink. Your face burned with his words. His nonchalant compliment pooling inside you. You stared at him. Taking an interest in his thick hands. How they made the red solo cup look small. Wandering to his broad chest. How it rose and fell with each deep breath he took.

“Are you normally this obvious when you undress people with your eyes?”

You awkwardly laughed at getting caught checking him out. Your hand rubbed your neck trying to cool yourself.

“Don’t worry. I’ve been doing the same thing,” Mark smirked. You shot a look over at him. Catching his deep blue eyes with yours. Seeing how they stared at the small about of breast revealed by your low cut collar. You poked at his nose, leading his eyes up to yours. His soft eyes stared into yours now.

“You wanna do a shot with me?”

Mark blinked at your question. Watching as you grabbed the most expensive bottle of tequila from the table, pouring both of you a shot. You held the small glass out to him. Smugness written on your face as Mark hesitantly took it from you. You took your glass between your lips, taking the shot back without your hands. Giving Mark a sort of spectacle to watch. He sucked his teeth as he finished his shot. The sight of you with your lips wrapped around the glass sending his mind into a frenzy. “Fuck,” he thought.

Mark leaned his lips into your ear, “Bet you’d look real pretty choking around my cock.”

Arousal flooded your body. Your heartbeat speeding up in your chest. You smiled as you turned to meet his gaze. Pushing him away in a flirtatious way, red cheeks decorating your skin. He smiled watching you get completely flustered over him.

“Is that normally how you get women to fuck you?” You teased, pulling at his tie.

“I’ll do whatever if it means you will fuck me,” he emphasized that you were what he wanted. You thought back on all the late nights you had shared. Pieces of some things you had previously thought were innocent falling into a more sexual light.

You took another swig of your drink. The alcohol beginning to blend together with the drink. Your cheeks buzzing as the alcohol finally settled there. Your finger traced his jaw, settling with a quick tap against the tip of his nose. Mark’s hooded eyes cut through you like a blade. You began walking into a vacant hallway where no other party goers were. Mark followed closely behind you into the dim lit hall.

Mark pinned you against the wall in the hallway. Both of you flirtatiously giggling. His hand rested above your head on the wall, your back meeting the chill of drywall. Eyes locked together. Smiles written across both of you. Your hands playing with his tie, his other hand resting on his hip. Leaned down posture so that you were nose to nose.

“Oh, come on. Just come home with me,” Mark grinned. Pink cheeks from the alcohol he had been sipping. You smiled, rolling your eyes at his pleas.

“Peter will kill me,” you whispered.

“He doesn’t have to know,” Mark leaned down planting his lips on yours. You melted into him, hands sprawled against his broad chest.

“I can’t…”

“I’ll show you a better night than he ever could have,” Mark took your lip between his teeth. Chills trickling down your skin. You pushed your lips back into his. Tongues exploring each other’s mouths with desperation. Hands gripped your waist like someone was trying to pull you away from him. Nails digging into his skin as you desperately held onto him.

His hands began roaming your body. One finding its place gripping your ass, pulling your fronts even closer together. The other tangling in your hair and loosely around your neck. “I’ll take you down and fuck you in Strahm’s office if it means I can have you,” Mark grumbled between kisses. The idea of you getting fucked by another man in front of your soon-to-be ex husband fluttering in your loins. You wrapped his tie around your hand, pulling at his collar.

“Let’s call a cab,” you whispered.

Mark grinned. Interlocking fingers with you and taking you out the side exit. Waving down a cab and giving the driver his address. Unable to keep his hands off you the entire ride. Half drunk kisses being planted on your neck. Fingers traced the lining of your panties through your dress. He paid the driver and practically yanked you out of the cab. Holding onto your hand tightly as he pulled you into the elevator. Lips finding yours as his hips pinned you against the wall of the elevator. Hands gripping at your chest like a hungry animal. His name a soft moan on your lips. Tugging you out of the elevator when the doors dinged open. Desperate hands struggling with the key to his apartment. Your arms wrapped around him from behind, fingers ghosting over his erection.

Click.

Finally, getting the door unlocked. Leading you into the dimly lit room. A lamp that had been left on illuminating the space. Mark came up behind you, helping you out of your coat. Hanging it on the rack next to his door. Such a simple, yet kind gesture. Feeling his hands wrap around you. Nose brushing against your neck, plump lips pressing tender kisses into your skin.

“What do you wanna do?” Mark innocently asked against your ear.

You stared forward at the covered windows. Still scanning around his apartment. You sighed, “Whatever you want.”

You felt his lips morph into a grin against your neck. Still pecking kisses along your jugular. His hands roamed against your thighs. Softly gripping the skin close to your core. Massaging your flesh, pulling you flush against his front. His other hand drifted up your torso, taking your throat in his grasp. Kissing your jawline. Callused hands squeezed your soft neck.

Heavy breaths fell along your skin as Mark’s hands found their way down your dress. Pinching at your nipples through your bra. Your head fell back into the crook of his neck. Lips falling against your cheek in several quick kisses.

Grabbing you and spinning you around to face him, Mark’s expression was dark. A soft smile barely written on his face as he leaned in and kissed you. You ran your hands up his chest, fingers sprawled out. Broad chest heaving with each heavy breath. Fingers playing with the buttons on his shirt as he watched you.

Mark took your hand in his, leading you through his dark hallway down to his bedroom. Turning on the soft lamp in the corner of the room. Hands finding their place on your waist again. Lips falling onto yours. Kissing back and forth softer than before. Your hands tangled in his hair keeping his lips close to yours. Pulling low grunts from Mark when you would accidentally pull his hair a little harder.

Mark lead you onto the edge of his bed. Laying you on your back as he stood completely up. Large hands pushing your dress up to reveal your lacy thong to him. His tongue came out to wet his lip. Seeing how you had already soaked through the soft material. Kneeling down to be directly in front of your entrance.

“Does he ever make you cum?” Mark’s dark eyes looked up at you from your clothed core.

You laughed shallowly. “Not really… when we do now, it’s quick so that he can get to bed. If he’s even willing,” you admitted. Mark rolled his eyes. A distasteful look on his face. Clearly angry at your ex-husband.

“What kind of man does he even think he is?” Mark’s finger outlined your wet core through your panties, “Can’t even make his girl finish? Doesn’t even care to try… what a joke.” Hot air of his words glazed over your skin. Flattening his tongue against your entrance. Causing you to arch your back further into his mouth. A wicked smirk written on his face.

“Let me take care of you,” he growled at you. Fingers curling around your pantyline and pulling them down your legs. Putting them somewhere out of your sight not telling you he hid them for himself. Staring at your dripping entrance completely entranced by the sight. Propping your legs over each of his shoulders, large hangs gripping the back of your thighs.

Mark kitten licked at your throbbing nub. Sending goosebumps throughout your body. Delving fully into you, his tongue penetrating your hole. Lips deciding to attach to your clit, sucking it into his mouth. One of his fingers coming up and finding its place inside you. Curling and pumping perfectly between your folds.

You swear nothing had ever felt this good in your life. Deep blue eyes peered up at you as he worked you. Feeling how you would spasm occasionally when he’d hit that perfect spot. Coaxing you closer and closer to your finish. The coil inside you sprang loose as you fluttered around his finger. Hips pushing up into his mouth as you rode out your orgasm on his face. “So fucking good,” you were a babbling mess as your entire body quivered. Mark smiled, pulling away from your core. His chin covered in your juices. Tongue coming out to taste you on himself.

Mark crawled on the bed with you. Lips kissing their way up your body. Stopping to suck on your nipple momentarily. Before stopping at your ear.

“You want more?”

“I need more.”

“Need? Desperate whore aren’t you?”

You nodded your head. Your face completely flushed. Mark pressed his groin into yours. Grinding his erection on your core through his pants. Collecting you on the front of the slacks. He groaned above you at the feeling. Pulling away and propping himself back on his knees. Undoing his belt with desperate hands. Shimming off his slacks revealing his pitched tent in his boxers. His erect cock causing your mouth to water at the sight. Mark palmed himself through his boxers, hooded eyes meeting yours.

Lips meeting under your ear, “You look so pretty when you cum.” Chills danced down your skin with his low tone. Heartbeat ringing in your ears as your chest heaved for air. He gently kissed you. Hands guiding you up. Helping you remove your dress over your head. The only garment on your body being your bra now. Wide palms splayed across your back as his eyes latched onto your exposed breasts. Feeling him reach for the clasp of your bra. Undoing it and pulling it down your arms. Toothy grin painting his expression. Hand reaching to grasp your soft tissue. Fingers rolling your nipples. Moans and whimpers poured from you.

Your hand roamed to his crotch. Fingers tracing up his erection. Mark’s body rutted at the sudden sensation. Blue eyes leaving your chest and locking into yours. You blushed at his strong stare. Pressing your lips into his neck. Teeth sinking into his skin as you began stroking him. His eyes squinted shut. Brows pressed together as he savored the feeling of your hand and lips on him. “Need to fuck you,” he exhaled his jaw tightening.

Pinning you down onto the mattress, Mark towered over you. Shimming his boxers off. Cock springing up. Lewdly smacking him in the stomach. Your jaw hung open at the sight of him. Thick, head swollen and leaking, vein twisting along the side, thick hair decorating the skin above it. Unable to stop yourself from comparing him to your ex-husband.

Mark grinned seeing you gawking at his member. “Like what you see?”

You nodded aggressively. Feeling drool pooling inside your mouth. Needing him more than ever. Hand gripping his base, toying with your entrance. Swirling the tip in your folds, barely dipping in. Causing you to throw your head back in pure ecstasy. The way just the head stretched you had you begging for more.

“Mark,” you pleaded, “I need it. Need you inside me so bad.”

Mark smirked. Dipping himself deeper inside your folds. You bucked against him attempting to force him deeper. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this,” Mark leaned down kissing you tenderly, “Peter fucking Strahm… never deserved someone as good as you. Not for one goddamn minute. I’ll take care of you the way he was never able to.” He completed sheathing himself inside you as he gritted his teeth. Hate for his coworker spewing from his tongue.

Pulling himself back so he could see your face before pounding into you. Hips cracking into yours as he found himself at a ruthless pace. Your back arched as the curve of his cock hit somewhere inside you just right. Mark panted above you as he fucked you. His name a chant from your lips. Tits bouncing with the force of him.

“Dirty fucking girl. Letting me fuck you while your husband is off at work?” Mark moaned above you feeling your walls contort around him momentarily. Senses still in overdrive from your first orgasm. Knowing it would not take long at this pace for another to wash over you. Mark knew just how to get you there.

Mark’s head fell back. Thrusts falling out of rhythm. You were completely lost around his cock. Taking the best fuck of your entire life. Your fingernails dug into his back as you felt your orgasm approaching. Feeling your sensitive insides begin to tighten up preparing for the end.

You attempted to form words. Unable to say anything but his name over and over again.

“What is it, baby? Gonna cum for me again? Yeah, that’s it,” he began talking you through your finish as his finger found its place on your clit. Circling it softly to coax you over the edge. Your entire body began shaking as you came undone around his cock. Walls fluttering around his girth. Like your body tried sucking him further in. “That’s my girl, cumming around my cock. Fuck,” his lip quivered as he felt himself approaching his own finish. Head falling into the crook of your neck, panting breaths sticking to you. Sweat gleaming off both of you as Mark rammed into you.

“He never made you feel this fucking good. Strahm. That pathetic motherfucker. Keeping you away from me all this time,” Mark bit down on your neck. Licking and kissing the tender skin. Your walls clamped down on him with each brutal snap of hips. Your hands tangled in his hair feeling him grown sloppy.

“Fuck, yes, Mark,” you called out to him, “Cum inside me, please.”

Hips held their place flush against yours as he shot up inside you. Feeling how his cock twitched inside you. His hot seed coated your insides. His body slumped onto yours. He panted hard on top of you. Your hands petting down his back. Both of you lost in the feeling.

“You’re perfect,” Mark whispered softly. Remaining inside you. Loving how you felt around his sensitive member. Silently enjoying each other. Both of you breathing heavily. Savoring the afterglow.

Tiredness washed over you. Your body being worked perfectly. The warmth of the body on top of you engulfing you.

“Can I stay here tonight?”

Mark looked up at you. A certain softness you had yet to see on him. “Of course you can.”

The two of you nuzzled up in his bed together. Tangled in each other’s arms. Feeling a safety you had not felt in a long time. Drifting off into a slumber in his arms…

… Mark woke up around his usual time. Slipping away into the kitchen to make himself a pot of coffee. It was still the wee hours of the morning. The sun had yet to rise.

He hears a buzzing coming from the coat rack. Going over and pulling your phone out of your coat pocket.

“Hello?” Mark answered your phone.

“Who the hell is— Mark?! Where the fuck is my wife?!” Peter shouted into the phone.

“Are you seriously just now realizing you lost your wife? It’s nearly 5 in the morning—” Mark snarked at him.

“You son of a bitch— I’ll kill you! I swear to God, I will fucking kill you!” Peter’s vein on his neck bulged with aggression.

“Threatening an officer of the law? Better calm down before I report this, Strahm,” Mark smirked. Staring at your sleeping body in his bed, in his apartment, wrapped in his blanket.

“Oh-ho, you seriously have the balls to try with MY wife? I’m gonna kick your ass, Hoffman. I swear to God, I will fuck you up!”

“I didn’t try anything. She will come home when she’s ready,” Mark clicked off the call. Snickering to himself knowing Peter probably threw his phone through a wall and was flipping shit over this situation. He crawled back into bed with you, wrapping you up in his warm embrace.

“Mark?” you half asleep mumbled to him.

“Yeah, baby. It’s me,” he kissed your head. You nuzzled into him. Feeling deep comfort in him.

~

[END]

// Thank you so much for reading! I had a really great time writing this fic and I’m very proud of it. As always, my inbox is always open so feel free to drop a request in there. I hope to write more for Mark Hoffman soon //

{tags}

@iwmflbb ~ @mrshoffman ~ @mrsmandylor ~ @heif ~