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mayumiiyuu · 2 years ago

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e. munson || don’t blame me.

a/n: part one of how many fics I’m working on to fix the shit the duffer brothers did to our beloved Eddie.

warnings: stranger things season 4 volume 2 MAJOR spoilers. read at your own risk.

If there was anything you were ever 100% sure of in this life in all life's utter unpredictability and ever changing nature, it was your everlasting love for Edward Munson; your Eddie.

You and Eddie had been friends ever since you first moved to Hawkins in your Junior year; despite having been held back for about a couple of years in the past, once in elementary as you couldn't quite get the grasp of maths as well as your other peers, and another for being expelled and forced to repeat your Junior year now in Hawkins (all because some bully decided to pick on you on the wrong day, causing you to slam their head onto a desk, effectively breaking their nose), Eddie had never made you feel bad for being older than most of your other peers.

You both remember that day very clearly, in spite of the differing point of views. You were sat alone at a table on the far end of the cafeteria, reading one of his favorite books: Lord of the Rings, specifically the Return of the King. By the look of the yellowed, worn pages and the crackled manner in which the spine of the book had been folded, Eddie knew that the book you had read was well-loved, guessing that this probably wasn't your first time reading it. He had cocked his head at you, staring at you intently as if trying to decipher your entire being with a single glance.

He nudged Gareth.

"Hey," Eddie said, pointing towards your direction. "Have any idea who that is? Haven't seen her here before."

Gareth glances at your direction, eyebrows furrowed before he quirked on as his gaze fell on his friend. "Pretty sure she's new, don't really know her." He shrugs.

"Think I might talk to her."

Dustin's eyes follow Eddie's stare, eyes widening as he realized he was looking at you.

"This might sound weird, but I overheard a little conversation happening beside my locker before lunch and uh, apparently she was expelled and stuff and had to repeat a year of high school for beating someone up so bad they had to be brought to the hospital."

Eddie shakes his head as he snorts at Dustin's words. "Yeah, well, as smart as you make yourself out to be, little man, but I don't give a shit about what any of these assholes have to say about anyone—gotta see it to believe it." He shrugs before standing up to make his way towards you.

Eddie being Eddie, he was completely unfazed by whatever rumor was swirling around about you. If there was a trait of his that was often overlooked, it would have to be his skills regarding observation; as haphazard as he was with his academics, Eddie was smart in his own right.

And he knew when someone needed a friend. That was just how he was.

As he drew closer to you, his eyes couldn't help but peek at the page of the book your eyes were currently glued to, doggy eared page folded back while the little margins the pages already had were filled to the brim with your own scrawled out hand writing, connecting passages with arrows to show which it was you had annotated. But a particular quote had caught his attention, boldly underlined with black ink and further emphasized with blue highlighter.

'I can ride and wield blade, and I do not fear either pain or death.'

Realizing that you were in the part in which Eowyn had just told Aragorn that she would not follow him on The Paths of the Dead because her people needed her. He had told her it was her duty to do so, implying that she needed to do so because she was a woman, because Aragorn would have never said this to Eowyn's brother nor her uncle.

Memorizing practically the entire book by heart, Eddie clears his throat as he takes a seat in front of you, his voice changing into a brooding, rough one as he recited Aragorn's words.

"'What do you fear, lady?'" He asked.

You looked up, surprised that you hadn't even noticed that someone had sat in front of you. As you looked at him, Eddie gave you the warmest, most genuine smile you had ever seen. You didn't know why, but something compelled you to follow his lead.

"'A cage,'" You replied.

He held an outstretched hand in front of you.

"I'm Eddie, Eddie Munson."

You lips twitch up into the smallest of smiles as you take his hand in yours, shaking it lightly. "(Y/N) (L/N)."

That marked the start of the best things to have ever happened to you in your life.

You had spent your entire life sharpening your mind and your tongue to become weapons against people who hurt you; spent years toughening up your skin until it was harder and far more enduring than any dragon hide. You didn't let people in easily, you were guarded, and as far as you knew the fortress that you had surrounded yourself in was impenetrable. If Eddie had initially thought that you were a lost sheep, you regarded yourself as a wolf, destined to be alone; teeth bared and jaw gnashing at anyone who ever tried to get close to you.

But as he smiled at you with those pearly whites of his and his kind, brown doe eyes, it was as if the sun's rays had somehow made it's way inside the fortress around your heart, lit up the skies of your lonesome night of howling at the moon.

That first year of friendship you and Eddie had were the happiest moments of your life. He made you laugh like no other person, broke down the cold façade you had built over the years in over a few months with his sunny disposition, melting away any leftover ice within you. As time passed, you soon found yourself falling for the kindhearted metalhead; with his brilliant mind creating entire worlds for his D&D campaigns, the manner in which he held himself, far more authentic and real, never hiding behind false pretenses just to fit in, the glimmer in his eyes as he spoke to you about his dreams, his passions, were all the things that made you love him and more. He quickly became your best friend, but you wanted more.

Little did you know he did, too.

With your sarcastic sense of humor, your playful teasing, witty quips, candor words, and the softer, gentler side to you that you had slowly began to show him, he found himself absolutely smitten with you.

Fleeting, affectionate glances turned into lingering touches, the brushing of his hand against the small of your back, your fingers intertwined in his as you ran to ditch whatever boring class you had next, all these ephemeral gestures turned how most love stories often did; in an accidental confession of love.

The two of you were sat on his bed, laughing at whatever joke Eddie had said about the boneheaded jocks that seemed to torment just about anyone in your school. You had leaned your head on his shoulder, wheezing so hard from how much you had laughed when those three words slipped from your mouth.

"I love you."

Eddie swore that his heart skipped a beat at the sound of those words. While he often brushed off any of your affection towards him as something meant to simply be platonic, he turned to look down at you, eyes filled with nothing but tenderness and care. You hadn't even realized what you had said until he had held your chin between his thumb and forefinger, making you look deep into the warm brown eyes you loved so dearly.

"Say that again." The look in his eyes were earnest, intense, swirling with every emotion all out once. You swallowed, throwing away any inhibitions or reluctance, because this was Eddie after all, your Eddie, the one person you ever felt you could truly be yourself with, who would accept you as you are: all the darkness and light within you, viewing it all as a wondrous spectacle, a play between kaleidoscope lights and shadow.

"I love you." You repeated, voice barely above a whisper before Eddie's lips found their way to yours. The kiss was gentle, filled with so much softness and affection that you felt your heart melt at his touch. Once you two broke away, lungs pleasing for air, he chuckles, shaking his head lightly.

"I'm no good with words but, I want you to know that you mean the world to me—you are my world. And I love you, (Y/N) (L/N)."

Those memories replayed in your mind, fresh as fallen snow on a cold December morning. All those pure, unadulterated moments of love and devotion seemed so far away now. You should have known not to let your guard down, that what goes up must come down, that shit eventually hits the fan, no matter how far it was thrown.

You weren't there during the murder of Chrissy Cunningham, but he was, and now the entire town was on some sort of barbaric witch hunt for your innocent boyfriend.

You knew how far fetched it sounded, how ridiculous and utterly inconceivable the entire situation was for the two of you, now part of an even bigger mystery, practically knee deep in a stupidly complicated dilemma involving other dimensions and monsters unlike those you've ever seen on horror movies, as unthinkable as the ones that hid in closets and under beds. Because these were real, and one of them had taken Chrissy's life. Now Fred's.

You had been the one to take Dustin and the others to see Eddie, knowing him inside and out meant that you knew how his mind worked like the back of your hand. Panic courses through your veins as a visibly disheveled Eddie popped seemingly out of nowhere, pinning Steve to the wall with a broken beer bottle to his neck. You had been the one to calm him down, to put him at ease with the sound of your voice and gentle touch of your hand, cupping his cheeks to soothe him as he recounted what had happened.

The look of fear and despondency in his eyes made your heart ache, your hand squeezing his as you tried to comfort him because how he reacted was how anybody else would have reacted.

Despite how outlandish it had sounded, you knew deep down to the carbon in your cells that he was telling the truth. You spent the night with him then, running your hand gently through his hair in an effort to make him calm down, to put him to sleep and ward off any other bad thoughts or nightmares that lingered in his mind.

"It's okay, my love, I'm here, I'll always be here."

You let his head rest on your chest, he knew your heartbeat better than any lullaby in the world.

Those days seemed long gone to you now, as you were now donned in attire for the battle of a lifetime, a battle that could mean life or death.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you heard the screech of a demobat, struggling as you frantically climbed up the makeshift rope Dustin had made when you, Eddie, Nancy, Steve, and Robin were initially stuck in the hellish world of the Upside Down.

Once you had landed on the mattress soon after Dustin had, you look up at Eddie, whose gaze was trained on the creatures that were trying to break in.

You knew him inside and out.

It didn't take long for you to know what he was intending to do.

"Eddie," you breathe out, breathing slowly becoming ragged as your heart seemed to still for a moment in anticipation.

He looks at you, remorsefully, lovingly, with every ounce of love he had within himself because it could be the last time he would ever look into your gorgeous eyes. Memories of your eyes crinkling in laughter, glittering in gold as the sun bathed you in yellow, the affection you had for him and only him as he held you in his arms played through his mind like a broken record.

"I love you." He says with all the conviction, all the earnestness he can muster, and cuts the makeshift rope in one fell swoop of a blade, before he takes off.

You let out a heart wrenching scream, tears pricked at your eyes as you knew exactly what he was going to do. Dustin looks to you with the same panicked look in his eyes as he screams for Eddie.

You don't have time to worry about your safety, you don't have time to hesitate, before you rummage through the backpack you had prepared for your guys' mission, finally finding the rope you had purchased before throwing it upwards into the portal.

As adrenaline courses through your veins you don't even have time to feel the burn of your muscles as you heave yourself up, the strain in your back as you hit the floor. Then, you run.

It doesn't take you long to find him, you'd know his voice anywhere as he yelled at the swarm of demobats that enveloped him. Dustin was quickly at your side, too in a state of shock to even move.

You don't have time for shock or petty emotions to get in your way. That was the love of your life risking his entire life, and you were going to do something about it.

Your body reacts before your mind can even think, you sprint towards the chain linked fence with all your might, grappling the edges as you force yourself up and over the metal fence, you don't even notice how your foot aches when you land the wrong way, all you do is run towards him.

You ran through the swarm, swiftly ducking any attacks while covering your face with your hands, unsheathing your own weapon: a machete you had sharpened for hours in preparation for the mission until it was keen enough to cut through bone. You grip it tightly in your hands, raising it high into the noxious air of the hellhole you were in, bringing it down to slice through a demobat's tail that had wrapped itself around Eddie's neck, stabbing it dead in its chest before it could fly away. You fling your machete, still holding the hilt with an iron grip to release the creature from your blade.

You stood there, back to back with Eddie Munson, surrounded by so many demobats it seemed as if the two do you were in the eye of a storm with how dark and ravaging their shadows were.

"What the hell are you doing here, (Y/N)?!"

You scoff at him. "Did you really think I'd leave you alone to play hero, Munson? Not a chance." A bat flies furiously towards Eddie's side, but you cut through it with ease, slicing it cleanly in half. You don't bother to wipe the blood off your face.

"This isn't a fucking joke, get out of here while you still can!" He answers back, taking his makeshift spear and stabbing it at yet another bat, flicking the creature away as it had been impaled.

"And leave you here? I don't—" you slice at yet another bat. "Fucking think so!"

"(Y/N), baby, you know I love you. I need you to be safe, please, do it for me." He manages to choke out before he shields the both of you with his iron-stake decorated trash can lid.

"If you love me, you'd remember that we both promised—!" You yell out as you slash through another bat, narrowly missing it's alien-like jaws. "That we'd stick together no matter what!"

"Are you insane?" His eyebrows furrow as the two of you turn around, as if you were made to stand together like this, back to back, slashing, cutting, and stabbing through whatever tried to come between the two of you.

Amidst the chaos, one thought manages to linger in your mind, a memory of you and your grandmother. She had just told you how she rushed into a battlefield in the midst of World War II to save your grandfather as he bled on the ground, she was a nurse for the army, she didn't ever need to put herself in danger. But she did. For him.

"Love makes you do crazy things."

You think that maybe crazy, borderline insane instincts like this simply ran in your blood.

But history repeats itself, as it so often does. Now you were in a world that was neither here nor there, devoid of any life, stuck in your own battlefield that wasn't even yours to rise to the occasion to.

"Don't blame me," you chuckle softly as you turn your head to look at him. "Love just so happened to make me crazy."

After what seemed like hours fending off the swarm of demobats, your resolve falters for a second as the death-like grip you had on your machete wavers. Sensing your tiredness, a demobat zeroes in towards you, going in for the kill before Eddie once again defends you with his makeshift shield.

"Come on, baby, just a few more minutes, we can take 'em." He reassures you.

"Edward Munson," you start, voice cracking as hopelessness takes over you, the two of you had been at it for so long, and it seemed as if there was just no end to their relentless rampage. You fall to your knees. "I love you, more than anything."

He looks to you, sees the despair in your eyes, for the first time in the years he had known you, this was the only time he had seen you like this. He kneels down with you and envelopes his arms around yours in a tight, warm embrace. Because if you were going down, he’d go through hell and back with you.

You two sit there, embracing your fate, the screeching of the demobats drowning Dustin's cries.

Nothing matters, nothing at all, as you are wrapped in his arms, cheek pressed to his chest as you listened to his heartbeat; your favorite sound in the whole world for what seemed to be the last time.

You thank your lucky stars, to whatever godly being was up there, that had managed to place you in the exact right place in the exact right time, for putting you in a lifetime where you had Eddie Munson by your side.

As the two of you prepare yourselves for The End, the pages of your love story finally closing, you hear something drop from the sky, before you hear another, then another, and then all at once demobats fall to the ground all around the two of you.

You unfold yourself from his arms, the two of you staring around in utter confusion, but as you look in each other’s eyes, confusion melts into relief and joy as you embrace each other yet again.

You made it, the both of you, you both had survived.

Dustin yelled, a guttural sound erupting from his throat as he tackled the both of you to the ground in an even tighter hug.

“You’re okay, you’re both really okay.” He sobs, tears falling from his eyes.

You pat the boy gently on the head.

“Yeah, we did.”

You look at Eddie, whose gaze is already on you, eyes brimmed with tears as he realized it was all over. It was finally, finally over.

He presses his forehead to yours, and you relish in his touch.

“I love you.” He says, vowing to himself that that would never be the last time he’d say it.

“I love you, too.” You reply, tears streaming down your face. Despite your tears and the overwhelming happiness that fills you as you realize you both were alive and well, a spark ignited itself within you, because all evils be damned if they ever tried to take him away from you. You’d make the very mountains crumble and fall apart, tame tempests and whirlwinds if it meant you’d keep Eddie by your side.

Whatever it takes, for him. All for him.

…….

taglist:

@mitchloveswriting @ali-r3n @ineedeitheranaxeoracupoftea

#stranger things x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #stranger things season 4 #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things spoilers

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the-witty-pen-name · 4 years ago

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The Nanny Pt. 1

Lee Bodecker x Nanny!F!Reader

18+

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: mentions of alcohol, implied age gap (reader is in her 20s), cursing, Sandy and Carl being bad parents, 18+ content in later chapters

Summary:

Based on this Request: The reader moves to Meade/Knockemstiff while answering an advertisement for a nanny in the paper. We learn that the ad was posted by Sandy, who has the reader watch her child whenever she and Carl leave to do their secret thing. After one of these trips, Sandy and her husband never return, so the reader is left caring for their baby. With the new investigation into these events, she meets Sandy’s brother Lee, the older, out of shape, alcoholic bachelor, and they are suddenly thrown into each others lives as he begins looking into his sister’s disappearance. Through it all, Lee starts to fall for her, and they slowly become a family.

A/N: Here is the first part of my newest series and I want to thank the anon who reached out to me with this idea!

If I missed anything I should include as a warning that I missed please let me know!

Taglist Form is in my bio and should be updated to now to include this fic! (If for some reason it isn’t working send me a message and I’ll make sure you’re added!!)

“Damn it, Sandy, can’t you handle that?” Carl yells from his dark room as the baby starts crying again.

“Fuck you, Carl,” Sandy shouts back, hurrying to put out her cigarette before heading to the nursery.

Their little girl was just about a year old, and neither one of them knew what they were doing. Carl was incredibly indifferent and despite her honest attempts at motherhood, Sandy’s maternal instincts never kicked in like she thought it would happen. Carl was annoyed that it cut into their time they would be on trips. They weren’t able to photograph models with the baby on the road, so he’d been itching to get back on the road.

“Is she hungry?” he shouts back, not even bothering to take his eyes off of the most recent photographs he had been developing.

“I just fed her!”

“Then why is she crying?”

“Fuck if I know,” Sandy shouts back exasperated. She scooped up the baby from her crib and started to rock her back and forth in her arms. Sandy also tried burping her, humming a little lullaby she made up on the fly… no luck. She walks around the house with the baby on her hip, trying to rock her back to sleep.

“We haven’t able to get back on the road in a year,” Carl says, clearly frustrated.

“That ain’t purely my fault,” she spits back, “Takes two to make a baby, Carl.”

“Fuck I know,” he groans, “But I need new inspiration. If I take one more picture of nature…”

“If she’s such a hindrance, pay for a damn sitter like I suggested months ago,” she counters.

“We can’t have no stranger walking around the house Sandy,” he points out.

“Just keep your damn room locked, it’s not a huge deal,” Sandy sighs. “Besides, no one is gonna snoop around if you pay ‘em enough. You damn well produce your own incriminating evidence; you should always have that room locked anyways.”

“We only have to worry about your damn brother,” Carl points out, “We hire a fucking sitter that’s two people we need to worry about.”

“You’re just to goddamn cheap to hire somebody,” Sandy states, moving back towards the nursery, the baby now snoring softly.

“You know what? Fine,” Carl says defeated. “But you’re in charge of putting the ad out and hiring somebody.”

“Thank you,” she says in a sing song tone, happy she got her way. But the moment of quiet that follows is short lived as they baby starts crying again.

“Please for the love of God can you just take care of that?” Carl yells, and the argument circles back to the beginning.

You had sat in the small dinner in the corner booth hunched over the newspaper and nursing your now cold cup of coffee. You had just arrived in Knockemstiff and were looking for work. “Any leads?” Julie asked as she topped off your coffee. Julie was your roommate. You had found her the same way you were currently looking for a job. You must have answered at least ten terrible Roommate Wanted ads until you had found Julie. The two of you now share an apartment- the top floor of a three-family owned by a sweet older couple.

“Thank you,” you say without looking up from scanning the ads. “Maybe this one?” You say pointing to one of the ads. She looks to see her manager stepped out for his smoke break before sliding in the booth across from you. You slide the paper over to her and she reads the ad out loud.

NANNY NEEDED Knockemstiff, Ohio

Couple that travels for work in need of a nanny for one-year-old daughter.

Temporary live-in position for several weeks at a time. Pay negotiable.

Call Sandy Henderson at the below number.

“I can sublet the room temporarily while you stay there,” Julie offers. “It’s a pretty vague offer,” she continues. “I wouldn’t commit until you call and speak to that Sandy woman.”

“Oh, I’m sure I’ll need to be interviewed,” you agree. “What kind of people are comfortable just leaving their baby for weeks at a time with a perfect stranger?”

“Paul is still out back I think,” she chuckles, “I’ll let you use the wall phone.”

You take a seat at one of the stools at the counter, and she dials the number for you and then passes you the receiver. You mouth a thank you and she waves her hand in dismissal as she heads over to take someone’s order.

“Whaddya want?” the woman on the other end answers abruptly.

“Oh, I’m calling about the ad in the paper regarding the nanny position. Is it still available?”

“Oh, shit. I’m so sorry, hun,” the woman says, now in a much nicer tone. “Thought it was my brother calling. Yes, it is, and we need it filled as soon as possible. When are you available?”

“For an interview?” You ask.

“Yeah,” she says mumbled, like she is dangling a cigarette from her mouth. “Can you come today?”

“Oh, wow. Yes, I can,” you reply.

“Great, um, you got a pen? Take down this address.”

About two hours, a change of clothes and a cab ride later, you were standing outside a house towards the end of town. It was a little run down, but what building in this town wasn’t? You were a little nervous of course, but it was also the most unconventional way you have gotten an interview. Part of you was relieved, because the woman on the phone sounded real, not phony, but the circumstances still made you uneasy. Julie had the address and said you’d call when you got back to the taxi dispatch.

“Welcome, welcome,” Sandy smiled, opening up the door for you. She had one hand on the doorknob and one of the cutest babies you’d ever seen in the other. “Come on in, make yourself comfortable.”

“Who is this?” you coo, leaning down to the baby’s eye level. “She’s darling.”

“This little sweetheart is Valerie,” Sandy smiles, passing the baby to you. “She’s so well-behaved. Hardly ever cries.”

“She’s adorable,” you smile, as the baby cuddles up close, resting her head on your shoulder. “I didn’t properly introduce myself on the phone. (Y/N) (Y/L/N).”

“I’m Sandy,” she introduces herself. “Please take a seat on the couch, get comfortable. I hate things that are so formal. Bleh.”

You take a seat on the couch, and readjust the little girl in your arms so she’s sitting on your lap and her back is resting against you so she is supported.

“So, my husband and I are on the road a lot, usually,” she begins, “We took some time off when we had Valerie, but we really need to start working again, you understand.”

“Of course, what do you both do?” you ask politely.

“We’re photographers,” she beams, “Mostly nature and landmarks- which reminds me! We have a darkroom in the house, but that door will be locked when you’re staying here. We don’t want any damage to any of the negatives we have stored in there you understand. Everywhere else in the house is yours to explore! And of course we gotta spare bedroom you can call your own.”

“Fair enough,” you joke.

“So, tell me about yourself, honey,” she smiles, crossing her legs in the armchair where she sat.

“Well, I just moved here a few weeks ago actually,” you begin, “I just recently finished school, and now I’m looking for work. I just got my degree in early childcare from the state college.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful,” she says with a clap of her hands. “So, you’re local?”

“Yes, I live in town.”

“Excellent! We’d also love for this to be like an on-call thing as well, you know for date nights and things like that for times when we’re home. Like for a few hours here and there. And of course, we’ll always live money for groceries or whatever you need on top of your pay for emergencies incase Valerie needs formula or diapers or anything.”

“Perfect,” you smile, surprised how well the conversation was going. Sandy was easy-going and nice to talk to. The two of you sat and talked for a little under an hour, her asking all the standard questions you anticipated. You also were able to ask her some more of your own questions as well. It was the most effortless interview you had been on easily.

“I’m sorry you weren’t able to meet Carl today,” she says when she is showing you out. “But hun, I feel confident to offer you the job. We haven’t had many applicants and you’re the most qualified one I’ve spoken to. The job is yours if you want it?”

“When can I start?” you smile, making her laugh.

“Your number is on the resume, right?” she says, scooping up the baby. You nod, waving goodbye to the baby and then saying goodbye to Sandy.

“I’ll call you when I speak to Carl, but I think once he knows he’ll want to head out as soon as we can. Plan for Sunday,” she says as you get into the cab.

Just like she had promised, you get a call from Sandy on Saturday afternoon asking you to show up the next morning at 9. You spend the day packing up your clothes and anything else you’d need for a few weeks. Sandy said they’d be back in two weeks but you pack for three just in case. Julie was also nice enough to help you. You didn’t need to do much. Ever since you had settled in Knockemstiff, you had been pretty lazy with unpacking and for once procrastination played out in your favor.

Julie insisted on taking you out to celebrate that night before starting your job tomorrow. There was a small little bar, a little shack of a place just on the outside of town you went to. Julie had a car and you drove, anticipating she’d have a lot more to drink than you. It was a hotter summer night, so you drove with the windows down and the radio playing a little louder than you normally would.

The outside was decorated with string lights of primary colors and the wooden awning looked like it was one more storm away from collapsing. But the atmosphere inside was to die for. The jukebox was playing loud dance music, and the place was crowded. Empty recycled glasses lined the walls on a high shelf as decoration along with weathered posters of anything Americana. A row of motorcycles and trucks were parked outside the little place and it looked like a pileup from how crowded the lot was. People lingered outside as well, and you both hoped you’d find seats inside.

The two of you found a high-top table and Julie made her way up to the bar, skillfully maneuvering through the crowd to grab you both some drinks. You let your eyes wandering, surveying the room and just people watching. Couples were dancing closely to the music that was rattling the jukebox, and a group of people were sitting at the bar huddles in to watch the little black and white portable television. You also noticed a group of men in uniform several tables down, local police. They weren’t paying any attention to anyone but their own conversation, except one.

He just so happened to have looked up just as your eyes landed on their table. Steel blue eyes cutting across everything and just staring right back into yours. It was a fraction of a second and his gaze was broken by Julie taking her seat across from you. You cleared your throat, and finally allowed yourself to exhale. You felt her raise an eyebrow at you but she didn’t press, just gave you a knowing smirk you brushed off. You still felt his gaze on you even if your view was now obstructed.

Sandy and Carl were in a rush when you arrived in the morning. Sandy ran you through the details of where everything was kept and told you that she would call to check in when she could when they made stopped. She helped you carry your bags in from the trunk of the taxi while Carl packed their bags in their car. He was polite enough, but you felt in your gut to just keep your distance. Sandy led you upstairs to the guest room she told you she worked to clean out for you. It was simple, a bed and a dresser with a small closet. She said it mostly had been storage and her weekend project had been clearing it out for you. It was simple, but good enough for you for sure. You thanked her and she dismissed it saying you were the one doing her a favor, making you laugh.

The whole ordeal was very hurried. Carl was rushing to get on the road as soon as possible and you could tell he was clearly irritated at how long Sandy was taking showing you around and explaining things about Valerie. Carrying the baby in your arms, you finally were settled in to your new role and Sandy gave one more big hug and a kiss on Valerie’s head before rushing down to the car. You waved to the pair of them from the small front porch, Sandy looking back and waving to the baby from the passenger seat until they were out of your line of vision.

The first day was a little daunting. New space, living in a house that isn’t yours and a baby babbling in your arms. She was a sweet thing, and she already had taken a liking to you. Heading over to her nursery, you saw that she had a little play pen folded up in the corner of the nursery and you quickly set it up in your room so you could unpack while keeping an eye on her. She babbled just happy utter nonsense to you while you navigated around the space and her big eyes just followed you, just watching you was entertaining for her for now. You were a new face and she was entertained just by that for now.

A few hours later, Valerie had settled down for a nap in the early afternoon. She was sleeping soundly in her crib and you were getting formula ready for when she woke up. It was quiet, the only noise in the house was the small sounds of your own rustling in the kitchen. You wondered when you would hear from Sandy, if it would be later tonight or in a couple of days. You just were lost in your own thoughts when you were startled by a loud knocking on the door. Instantly, Valerie began to cry. You wiped your hands quickly on the skirt of your dress before grabbing her. You rested her on your hip and rocked her gently, shushing her to calm down while you went to grab the door.

The first thing your eyes saw were the same blue eyes who was looking at you at the bar last night. The man’s eyebrows furrowed and he looked really confused. He had one hand rested on his hip and the other against the doorframe, but he stood up straight when he saw it wasn’t who he expected. Your eyes then went down to the shiny Sheriff’s Badge fixed in place on his uniform.

“Who are you?” he asks abruptly. “Where’s Sandy?”

“Sandy and Carl left this morning,” you explain, not sure if he recognizes you. “I’m their nanny.”

He laughs and shakes his head as he looks down, almost like he doesn’t believe you, or he just doesn’t believe the situation. “Carl? Carl Henderson hired a nanny?” he scoffs and you nod, holding Valerie a little closer. The little girl rubs her eyes and yawns, when her eyes flutter open, she looks at the stranger in the doorway and immediately reaches out to signal she wants to be held by him. You ignore her resistance to wanting to be in your arms until you get more information about why the Sheriff is at their doorstep, though she obviously knows him.

“I’m Sandy’s brother,” he explains, “Did she say when they were coming back?” He doesn’t try to hold the baby yet, just holds out one of his fingers and her little hand holds onto it tightly.

“Two weeks.”

“They hire a complete stranger to watch my niece and live in their house unsupervised while they drive around?” he scoffs, shaking his head again in disbelief.

“I’m more than qualified…”

“It’s not a jab at you, sweetheart,” the man tries to explain, “More so a reflection on my sister and her husband is all. They are… fairly selfish people and I wished this situation surprises me more than it does.”

“Should I tell her you came by when she calls?” you ask.

“If she calls,” the man chuckles, “Sure, let her know Lee stopped by to visit.”

“You don’t think she will?” you ask, tilting your head.

“We’ll see,” Lee shrugs, “Do I know you from somewhere?” He rests his arm back up on the doorframe and looks down to the baby again, extending out his free hand to her again and scrunching her cheeks.

“I don’t know,” you shrug, not wanting to admit you remembered seeing him last night. He purses his lips together and nods, not pressing further. He pushes off from the doorframe and puts his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket.

“Must’ve been in a dream then,” he smirks, and you feel your cheeks flush. He walks down the steps and back towards his cop car. “What did you say your name was?” he asks, turning back around.

“I didn’t,” you chuckle.

“Hmm,” he nods, and raises his eyebrows, waiting for you to fill in the blank. You tell him your name and he repeats it back to you like he’s thinking about it, trying it out to see how it sounds.

“Well,” he says, standing behind the open driver’s door, “Good luck, and I hope Sandy proves me wrong. Let me know if she calls.”

Taglist:

@adelaide-walker @thedepressolit @samanthadegaro

#lee bodecker #lee bodecker imagine #lee bodecker x reader #lee bodecker x you #lee bodecker x y/n #the devil all the time #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan characters #lee bodecker smut #lee bodecker fluff #sebastian stan one shot #sebastian stan imagine #x reader #fluff #smut #nanny!reader #x f!reader #found family

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butwhatifidothis · 2 years ago

Note

I think the only reason why your reading of TEaG is considered “bad faith” is because Edelstans really suck at ever actually fully reading what their opposition is saying. Every time I see one of these discussions, it’s the same thing: an awkward reading that doesn’t address the point properly or a strawman.

There’s no having discussions with these people, it’s all about their fragile attempts to win. So long as you differ from them, they’ll scarcely ever admit to your merit.

It may also have to do with the fact that once a certain thing becomes "the right take" in a subsect of a fandom's view of canon, it can be really, really hard to convince them otherwise.

I once again bring up Bleach as an example lol but I gotta lay a bit of groundwork: Ichigo, main character, starts the series pretty bummed. This feeling - his despair - is almost always visualized as/likened to rain. He has friends and family he wants to protect but felt as though he lacked the proper strength to do so - enter Rukia, soul reaper girl, shit happens and she transfers her power to him, he gets his own soul reaper powers to protect his homies, and he says that finally the rain has stopped.

With me? Hope so. He's protectin' he's fightin' he's doin' his shit livin' his life then BAM, two more soul reapers come up, Renji and Byakuya, to take Rukia away cuz actually her giving her powers to Ichigo was illegal and she's goin' to jail. Ichigo tries to stop them, does aight against Renji for like two seconds and then WAH-POW, he gets his ass handed to him. Byakuya does shit that I don't feel like explaining and oops, Ichigo no longer has soul reaper powers and it begins to rain. Ichigo's face down ass up on the ground shiddin' and cryin' in the rain, and then this guy who'd been croppin' up here and there named Kisuke walks over to him and holds an umbrella over Ichigo. And, like, literally the next scenes are him giving Ichigo (some version of) his powers back. Those powers which, remember, were what dried the rain - gotten rid of his despair - in the first place.

Now, because of BABY'S FIRST VISUAL METAPHOR, you would likely come to conclusion that Rukia and Kisuke dried Ichigo's rain, because one gave him the power to protect and the other gave it back to him once it was stolen. But if you were to ask Those IR stans? They will DIE on the hill of "Kisuke didn't dry Ichigo's rain he just held an umbrella over him, you're being too literal, it doesn't mean anything! Only Rukia ever dried Ichigo's rain!"

Meaning that Kisuke protecting Ichigo from the rain - which, again, symbolizes his despair - and then immediately afterwards giving him his powers back - his powers, again, which had gotten rid of the rain in the first place - ... is just a bunch of completely random things happening for no actual reason that just so happen to look a lot like Kisuke also saving Ichigo from his despair. And now where have I heard that sentiment before 🤔

My critiquing of the fic being considered one of "bad faith" by certain Edelstans doesn't really surprise me, given that I've seen this kind of mindset before. There's a certain idea of both Edelgard and the game itself that's sort of cemented itself into Edelstan circles - CF being the route that "breaks fate," Byleth becoming fully human being a good thing, Edelgard caring for the people and just being kind and caring as a character overall, Faerghus Toxic Masculinity, Rhea Bad - and pointing out all of the things in the game that contradict those ideas isn't ever really going to fly over very well with them.

Which is just as well, because I'm not going over the fic to try and change their minds (though that would be a bonus lol) but to go through this "meta piece" and see what all's wrong with it in regards to keeping to canon as well as going over why it also doesn't work as a fic, or even a story independent from 3H. It's seen as such an important piece of Edelgard meta, after all, so imo it ought to be scrutinized to make sure no incorrect or, uhh, worrying narratives are being spread - whether about the game itself or more general things, like any other meta piece. And, well, it's certainly an eye-opener in that regard 😬

#ask #anon #exqueuese me princess #o captain my captain #edelgard discourse #just to be safe #add on years of stewing in these takes and rejecting literally anything that goes against them and thinking they're the victims of the fand #*fandom #because oh wow they act like jackasses to everyone else and then everyone else don't like them oh the poor darlings #and you have this lol

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cjsinkythoughts · 4 years ago

Text

Flaws

Written for @honeysucklesteve’s 4k writing challenge! If you haven’t, go check her out because she’s amazing!

Pairing: Mickey Henry x fem!Reader

Summary: You hate his music taste. He hates yours. You have a bad habit of stealing his gigs. He has a bad habit of fucking you until you can’t walk straight. Everyone has flaws. What are you to do about it?

Word Count: 3822

Warnings: Cursing, hate sex, semi-public sex, unprotected sex, hair pulling, slight edging, there’s a mirror involved, drugs, alcohol, clubbing, smoking, one mention of lung cancer, mentions of Monday’s plot, so slight spoilers; (I hope I’m not forgetting anything. These kinds of warnings are new to me. If I am, feel free to tell me.)

18+ PLEASE!!! MINORS DNI!!!

A/N: I know I haven’t posted in a while, but here you go! I’m so nervous about posting this. Honestly. I feel like I kinda rushed it a little? I dunno if it’s good. Uhm, I will say that Mickey is not soft in this. You know how he’s all cute and flirty in the movie? Yeah. Not here. I have plans to write for him later on where he’s more on character and adorable and all that, but it’s enemies to lovers and he hates reader and reader hates him. So. Yeah. Have fun with that.

This is a few firsts for me; first published smut, first Mickey Henry fic, and first enemies-to-lovers ever! I’m attached to friends-to-lovers (my parents’ fault), so going in the opposite direction is exciting and I hope it works out! (We’ll see what it can become after it’s been written.)

Also! Yes, I’m adding the link to the inspiration of the remix here. You’ll see what I’m talking about. I imagine more bass, but that’s basically it.

As always, all mistakes are mine and please excuse them as it’s not beta’d! Be kind to yourselves and others! Stay tuned and enjoy!

Part Two - Addictions

My Masterlist

*****

Between the tumultuous, voice losing cheers and the pounding, headache inducing bass, it’s a miracle the occupants of the building can hear anything at all. The large room is doused in bright pinks, purples and blues, glitter getting into every pore and crack, the smell of cigarette smoke and booze lingering in the air.

Bodies pressed together uncomfortably tight, breath and sweat mixing in a way that can’t be enjoyable, but no one notices because they’re all too high and drunk. There’s a couple swallowing each other in every dark corner of the room. A group of guys looking to get some are laughing rather obnoxiously at the bar, having consumed far too much alcohol to be safe.

Bouncers are escorting people out left and right; a streaker who decided to get on a table and dance, a couple who took it a bit too far over the bar counter, a group of girls who were no doubt too young to be in such an environment. Boisterous, chaotic, borderline dangerous.

There’s no place he’d rather be on a Friday night.

Up on the center stage, playing around with his tracks, messing with the turntables, pulse connecting to the music, head bobbing with the beat. He’s in control.

Every party. Every Friday, Saturday, Sunday night. Every weekend.

He’s in control.

It’s what he liked so much about doing what he does. Once he’s booked, he’s booked. It’s his night. He controls the sounds people hear. He controls what they dance to. How they dance. The pace of the night. The feeling of the night. And no one can take it away from him.

No one, that is, except you.

He hears you before he sees you, which is nearly impossible considering how loud the music is, but you somehow manage to take control of the room the moment you walk in it. You always get what you want with a bat of your eyelashes. And if you aren’t given it, you take what you want without regard for other people.

It really really pisses him off.

You’re laughing with a group of your friends, guys and girls’ heads swiveling to stare at you, captivating every heart in the room as per usual. You always show up with the same group, but he doesn’t even know any of their names even though you run in the same circles. It’s not like you end up hanging out with them for long, and you never leave with them. No, no. You always leave with him.

And that pissed him off too.

He can’t help it. He has absolutely no control over himself when it comes to you. And he hates you for it. He hates that he lets you take over with only a few snarky comments in his defense. He hates that you always get into his head. And he hates that you’re the best fuck he’d ever had and he can never get enough of you.

But most of all…he hates your music.

“Hey, hey! There he is!” You send him that infuriating smile of yours, a drink in your hand. It’s a flaw of yours. One of many, but probably the biggest. Alcohol. Like him and his cigarettes. He watches you with narrowed eyes as you effortlessly move through the crowd, your girls and guys seeming to vanish into the mob with every step you take.

You end up in front of the stage, leaning on it and giving him a smirk as you sip on your beverage choice of the night. It’s always something different. The only common factor is the alcohol you crave, letting it wash over your tongue, burn down your throat and slip into your veins.

“Heya, Mouse!”

“Don’t call me that!” He shouts with a growl over the music, pulling his headphones down around his neck. “What the fuck are you doing here?!”

“I got called this morning! Said there was a gig tonight!”

He shakes his head, gesturing to the set up. “You’re a bit too late there, sunshine! Gig’s booked!”

You shake your head back at him. “I’m taking over from here, Mouse!”

“Says who?!”

“Argyris!”

His jaw clenches, his forehead creasing, a skeptical scoff leaving his lips. “Fuck you! No he didn’t! He said this one’s mine!”

You just give a shrug, no cares in the world, downing the rest of your drink. “You can fuck me later! For now, if you wanna whine about it, Daddy’s over there!”

Another growl leaves his chest as he scowls at you, eyes darting to where you’re pointing. Argyris is by the bar, of course, swaying on the seat. Barking out a laugh, he looks at you with a shake of his head. “He’s so drunk he probably shit himself again! You can’t take his word for it!”

“I can when he called me this morning, sober as he can get!” You shoot back, hopping up to stand besides him. “Besides! Someone’s gotta make sure these people have an actual good time!”

“Don’t touch anything until I get back!” He snaps, pointing warningly at you as he starts to walk towards Argyris.

You smile innocently, even though he knows you’re anything but. “Yes, sir!”

He marches over to his asshole friend and grabs him by the shirt, turning him around. “Mickey! Havin’ a good time?!”

Mickey glares, feeling his blood boil and his ears heat up, not from the proximity of strangers around him. “What the fuck?! You told sunshine over there that she could have my gig?!”

“I thought you’d wanna break! Dance and relax for a little bit! It’s only a two hour slot I gave her!”

“You should’ve fucking asked, Argyris! I don’t want her anywhere near my-” His sentence is cut off by a change in the music and he whips over to the stage where you’re grinning and jumping with the crowd. You catch his eye and throw him a wink, holding one of the headphone cups over your ear. “ Oh for the love of - she’s messing with my stuff!”

“I thought you liked her!”

Spluttering, Mickey gapes at the other man in disbelief. “Like her? I can’t stand her! She’s so fucking annoying!”

“What’s so annoying about her?!”

Mickey snatches the drink Argyris was about to gulp down and slams it on the counter. “She’s a spoiled fucking brat! Everyone lets her do whatever she wants! She steals half my fucking gigs! And her music is shit! Listen to this!”

Argyris looks around the room and shrugs. “Everyone else seems to like it! Sure it’s different than your disco-”

“It’s not disco!”

“But it’s a crowd pleaser! Just relax! Have a drink and go dance!”

“Argyris!” Wanting to scream in frustration, he watches the man stumble off to get another drink down the bar. “Dammit! This is fucking shit.” Grumbling to himself, Mickey storms back over to the stage, easily pulling himself up.

You bite your lip and raise an eyebrow at him. “So?! How’d your date with Argyris go?!”

“I hate you so fucking much! Use your own fucking headphones!” He snatches the pair from your neck, pulling the cord out. “Why do you always have to steal my gigs?!”

You shrug, leaning forwards to brush your lips against his ear. “Yours are so much fun.”

His tongue darts out to wet his lips, eyebrows furrowing. This always happens. Every time. The moment he feels in control, you do something and he feels every ounce of himself slipping away. It’s the reason he fucks you. To take back that control he so easily gives to you. To make sure you understand that on the weekends, he’s in charge.

But not tonight. No, no. Not tonight. He refuses to get caught up in that game tonight. You wouldn’t end up in an alley or some bathroom with him. He wouldn’t end up on your couch or in his kitchen with you. He refuses to let it happen. Again.

Instead, he lets out a chuckle and nods. “Yeah. Okay. Whatever sunshine.” He takes a step back, giving you a smirk as your eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “You have fun playing your shitty music!”

“Have fun moping!” You call back, turning to the table and ignoring him completely as he groans and jumps off the stage.

Good God. You’re infuriating.

But so is he.

You hate Mickey Henry. You just do. You hate that he has zero responsibilities and gets away with it. You hate that he can charm his way out of any situation. You hate how immature he is and how no one ever forces him to grow up. And you hate how easily you let him take charge when he’s with you. After a life full of people making choices for you, you crave control, but with him? The moment he tells you to get on your knees, you fall, no matter where you are or what you’re doing.

But most of all…you hate his music.

You take his gigs to save people from listening to it, but also so he knows he can’t talk every situation into his favor. That Argyris can’t always take care of his job for him. He never checks up on gigs once Argyris tells him he has them. So it’s really his fault for not taking some responsibility.

Watching from the stage as your music flows through you, vibrating your bones and sinking into your skin, you’re not surprised to see him get out a cigarette as he heads to a mutual acquaintance of yours. He has many flaws, but that’s a major one. Like you and your alcohol. Him and his cigarettes. You wouldn’t be surprised if you learn a couple months from now that he has lung cancer.

Mickey is talking low to the guy and you already know what’s going on. That was a flaw you both shared. Drugs. He is much more intense than you though. While you’d be fine with some pot, he almost always hits hard with cocaine. Not that you’re innocent from that type yourself - you’d done it multiple times with the man himself if you ended up at each other’s place. Never in the bedroom. You never made it that far, and you don’t really care to. But after those times bent over the table, being pounded into the couch, hanging against the wall, you’d get high with him before one of you takes off.

You’re not exactly sure what happened earlier. You were a bit shocked when he stepped away. Not that you usually left so early, but he didn’t even stay to bicker some more.

Not that you care. You’re just…curious. Maybe he’s finally growing tired of the game you’ve been playing. You’ve been playing it for a few years now. With that weird little pause last year.

You actually thought he had changed.

Having run into him at a party, you prepared yourself for the arguing that no doubt would end in sex. But it didn’t. It didn’t even start. He was with someone. Like, steady with someone. As in dating someone. Living with her. To the point where his baby mama actually agreed to let him keep his boy in their apartment as long as they were together.

It was a weird six months. You two actually had real conversations. You knew how soft and goofy he could get; you had loads of mutual friends and often went to the same parties so you’d seen that side of him. It was just…odd because it never came out with you. But it did then. And you…liked it. You didn’t see him as often, especially once his kid was cleared to live with them. He stopped going out on weekends, started just attending the small shindigs your friends hosted, worked from home instead of DJing.

But then his girl - what was her name? Claire? Caitie? You can’t remember - left for a job in the States just a few months ago and he was back to square one. His baby mama took back the custody privileges, he went back to partying every weekend, and you fell right back into your petty bickering and rough fucking.

You feel bad. Really, you do. You heard that he’d actually loved that chick. And you know he wanted to see his kid more. You knew about the room at his place. But that almost made you hate him more. That he went right back to his old self. He didn’t even try. He got a taste of being a responsible adult, and then let it go.

Because no matter how hard people try, flaws are flaws. And no one can change that much.

As the night goes on, more booze enters your system, while more cocaine enters his. There’s the occasional glare or immature finger raising between you two. Mickey even sticks his tongue out at you while dancing with some broad, a smirk lifting up the corners of his mouth as yours twist down and your eyes roll.

Your features quickly morph into smug amusement as an idea pops into your head and his eyes narrow. What are you up to? He quickly finds out as you stop the music and bring a microphone to your lips.

“Hey, hey, party people! Everyone’s night going fantastic?!” Cheers are your response. Mickey scowls, not liking where this is going, and starts heading your way. You wink at him. “I’m gonna change it up for just this one song! It’s a dedication song to a good friend of mine! It’s a bit different than the usual stuff, but it’s a bop, I promise! Here’s to the Mouse!”

He immediately freezes as the song starts. “Meeska! Mooska! Mickey Mouse!” He feels his face heat up, his fists balling up at his sides, glaring at you and your shit eating grin as you roll your body to the beat, his feet taking him to the stage.

Effortlessly lifting himself onto it once more, he grabs both your wrists in one of his larger ones to stop the music without you interfering, his rings digging into your skin. “Aww! But, Mouse! We didn’t even get to the roll call!”

“Shut. Up.” He grits out through clenched teeth, putting something else on absentmindedly. He didn’t want Argyris on his ass later for leaving the crowd without music. “God. Stop being a fucking pain in my fucking ass for one fucking minute.”

You roll your eyes, but he’s pulling you away before you can reply. Next thing you know he’s shoving you into the bathroom, growling at the girls that were smoking up the place to get out.

“You think you’re so cute, don’t you, princess?” He hisses in your ear, slamming you against the door once the girls left. He’s so tired of giving in to you, but he can’t help it, crashing his lips against yours messily. Teeth and tongue, the taste of smoke and the fruity drink you had chosen for the night mixing, only making him press closer. Your hands get pinned above your head and he’s pulling your skirt up, bunching it at your waist. It’s rough and careless and fueled by loathing, but when is it not? “Think you’re so funny? Huh?”

“Yeah.” You breath, smirking as he slots a thigh between your legs, squeezing your hips and pressing you down against him, flexing the muscle and making you squirm.

His teeth are biting at your bottom lip and tugging, his hands dragging your clothed core along his thigh. “Let’s see how funny you think you are when I’m fucking you so hard you forget how to breathe.”

Your breath hitches and your hands previously above your head clutch onto his shirt at the friction against your clit. It’s not enough and he knows, but you don’t tell him. “All this over a silly song?” You jest.

He sneers back at you, ignoring your tease. “Did you get jealous, sunshine? Is that what happened? Is that why you decided to be a little shit?”

“Jealous?” You scoff as he attacks your neck, your hands quickly undoing his belt before he shoves his pants down, his briefs following along with your panties. “Jealous of you, maybe. That girl was hot. Way outta your lea - oh shit.”

You always forget how deep he reaches inside you, how much the stretch is. He’s not soft about it, entering you in one swift thrust, your hips connecting. His hands are dimpling your bare thighs, hefting you up so your legs wrap around his waist, rings on his fingers no doubt making imprints. The door against your back starts rattling with every movement, but the music outside was too loud for anyone to hear it.

“Not so mouthy now, are we?” He snaps in time with his hips. He can feel you tightening around him, your fingers dragging down his chest, trying desperately to pull his shirt off.

“C’mon, Mouse. That's all you got?” You pant out, a little whine leaving your lips when he leaves you suddenly, dropping you to your feet. “Mickey! What-”

He cuts you off by pushing you against the counter, a shout leaving your lip when he takes you from behind, making you surge forwards, your head almost hitting the mirror, pelvis hitting your ass with every piston of his hips. His hand is tangled in your hair and he tugs, making your head snap up. “Look at you. So fucked out. I did that. I’m the best fuck you’ve ever had and we both know it.” He isn’t wrong. Your makeup’s a mess, your hair is wrapped around his fingers.

“You’re the one who keeps fucking me.” You argue back, your spine arching as he hits that perfect spot inside you. Over and over and over.

He growls, leaning forwards to fold over you, his lips by your ear. “And who keep being a fucking brat? Huh? Who keeps coming to my gigs, fucking up my weekend? Practically begging me to fuck you.”

You scowl at him in the mirror. “I don’t beg.”

The chuckle that leaves his lips makes you shiver and you whimper when he tugs your hair harder, the sting of your scalp mixing with the pleasure his cock was giving you.

“You will. You may get everything you want from everyone else, princess, but I’m in charge here. Don’t. You. Forget.” His words are punctuated with a hard thrust, making you lurch forwards, your thighs pressing harshly against the counter.

“Oh God…Mickey,” that familiar tightness in your stomach appears, your eye clenching shut as your toes curl. “I’m so close…”

“Open your goddamn eyes. Look who’s doing this to you. Who fucking owns this pussy? Huh?”

Your eyes snap open and meet his again, his breaths fanning across your face, rapidly becoming less steady. “You.”

“That’s right. You wanna cum, sunshine?” You nod vigorously. He takes your lobe between his teeth and tugs as he stills his hips, keeping himself inside you. “Then beg.”

And, just like the many times before, you do. You do because you don’t actually care about begging. You care about him ruining you. That’s what you want. And you always get what you want. Fuck your dignity.

He starts up slowly again as you plead, stopping a couple more times when you feel yourself getting close. “Mickey! Please, for the love of God!” He’s never edged you this much. Not this intensely. And not in the bathroom at a club. Usually it’s just a quickie before you take him home or vice versa.

But you pissed him off tonight. More so than usual. It was a good night and then you came along. Took his job. Played that dumb song. So he needs to remind you. Put you in your place. “You may be spoiled by everyone else, princess, but I’m the only one who can give you what you really want.”

“God, you’re so annoying.” You grind out through your clenched teeth.

He just smirks. “That wasn’t a denial. Let go, Y/N. Make a mess of my cock. Watch yourself fall apart for me.”

You do as he says, watching your jaw go slack in a silent scream, your body tensing, your legs shaking, as he finally lets you have what you want. Body going slack against the counter, he keeps rutting into you until he groans, a string of profanities leaving his lips as he spills inside you.

The both of you stay there, with him folded on top of you, his forehead resting against the nape of your neck, his grip on your hair loosening.

“That was fun. A little different.” You hum as he gets up. He’s glaring at you as you straighten and fix yourself. “Good orgasm though, so thanks for that. But I gotta get back to work now.”

“You’re such a pain in my ass.” He mutters, tucking himself away and pulling his pants up.

“Kinky. Maybe next time.” You wink at him through the mirror and his jaw ticks. He’s so fucking tired of it. Of you. How you let him have that one bit of control and then your right back to controlling the room once you get what you want. There’s so many nights where he wonders if he should just stop giving it to you. But then he’s inside you and he can’t help himself.

He watches you touch yourself up, although you still look thoroughly fucked, but you don’t seem to mind. This is new. You going back to the gig you stole after sex. He wonders if that was the last time for tonight, or if you’d be leaving together later too.

“I fucking hate you.” He spits out as you open the door, wanting to get the last word in.

You just smirk the same way he did to you earlier. “Yeah…but you love fucking me. Later, Mouse.”

Just like always, you’re the last comment as you walk out nonchalantly, even though he could see the slight wobble in your steps, the door shutting behind you, leaving him alone.

You hate Mickey Henry. You loathe him. You wish you never met him. But you can’t get enough. No matter how many times you convince yourself you have him where you want him, you know you don’t. You’d let him do anything to you. But you can’t stop. Like him and his cigarettes. He’s your flaw. And no matter how bad he is for you, you’re addicted.

Mickey Henry hates you. He loathes you. He wishes he never met you. But he can’t get enough. No matter how many times he convinces himself he’s in control, he knows he’s not. He always gives you what you want at the end of the day. But he can’t stop. Like you and your alcohol. You’re his flaw. And no matter how bad it is for him, he’s addicted.

*****

Personal Taglist:

@happygoreading @bibliophilewednesday @breadqueen95 @marvelettesassemble @w-wolfhxrd @the-larry-romance @abitofeverythinggg

#mickey henry x reader #mickey henry x reader smut #mickey x reader #monday the movie #monday the movie mickey #honeybunswritingchallenge #cjswriting #💙🇬🇷🥵

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keilemlucent · 4 years ago

Text

a night less cold

(r18+)

hawks | takami keigo x reader

ao3

word count: ~7.8k

beta’ed: @hawnks

happy birthday pro hero hawks! who’s ready for a night of dazzling and drinking?

you aren’t.

warnings: soft hawks, sick fic, hurt/comfort, a wittle angst, horny shit, fucking while sick, a wittle daddy kink

...

a/n: happy birthday kei 🎉!!! happy to celebrate with a classic little slice of hurt/comfort and horniness <3 i’ve never done a true sick fic, so here’s a wittle bit of that as well!!!

thank you for reading and enjoying this year, and being here!! i’m endlessly grateful and just :’^) full this day. enjoy loves 💕

|||||||||||

Keigo’s birthday was, historically, quite the spectacle.

It was tradition that his once-budding, now-thriving agency would host a massive, grand party at a local venue, either an upscale club or dimly-lit, luxury hotel. Keigo would splurge his personal funds on the best music, food, and drinks that money could buy. There were popular DJs, the best and greasiest foods he could bring in, not to mention an open bar on every floor of the festivities.

It was quite a press event as well. Paparazzi and reporters would line up outside of the venue for a few quick words with heroes and socialites as they spanned the red carpet, colored like the vibrancy of his wings.

The event thereafter was debaucherous, obviously, according to Keigo, and quite a media circus as well.

And this year, you were going as his partner and date, also obviously.

The year prior, you and Keigo had still been relatively secretive about your relationship, but as you’d become quietly public in the recent months, Keigo was itching to show you off.

...

December 27th, you awoke in Keigo’s massive, soft bed to his soft humming and low coos, one of his more birdish qualities. The floating sound echoed from his chest to your ear that laid snug against it as he ran his fingers slowly around the shell of your ear.

As you cracked your eyes open, you immediately noted that you felt a bit... off. There was a sticky dryness in your throat that definitely hadn’t been there when you laid down the night before, at least not as strongly.

You opted to ignore it, tugging Keigo closer by the small of his back and kissing his naked collarbones.

“Mornin’” You yawned, blinking sleep from your eyes. “What time is it?”

Keigo’s humming seized as his hand moved to run slowly up and down the back of your neck, “Early. Get some more rest.”

Shaking your head, you propped your head on your folded arms, regarding Keigo with a quiet reverence.

He was too pretty, it stunned you, most of the time. Even with a mop of slept-on blonde waves and the blushed lines and creases of the sheets on his cheeks, he still looked like some gracious god carved him from amber and marble. With the sheets pooling at his waist and a smirk growing on his lips, you couldn’t help smile back.

“You’re staring,” Keigo grinned without a hint of ire. “It’s cute.”

“You’re cute,” Heat pooled in your chest. “Happy early birthday, tailfeathers.”

“Why, thank you,” He lit up, wings puffing behind him as he tugged you closer by the waist. “I’m very excited for you to come tonight, you know. I get to show off my cute little dove to the prying eyes of the world.”

“Showing me off? I’m flattered,” You mused, leaning into his heat. “I’m excited too.”

Keigo took a quick pause before tilting your chin up with a single finger, “Are you sure you’re okay to go tonight?”

“Of course!” You beamed, nuzzling into his neck and ignoring any odd aches in your sleepy muscles. “Why wouldn’t I be? Getting cold feet, birdy?”

He rubbed up your spine, dropping a kiss onto your crown, “You were coughing a bit last night, dove.”

That was news to you. It explained your gummy vocal chords.

“Dry air,” It had to be, right? “Just gave me a dry throat.”

Keigo didn’t look fully convinced in the sheets, feathers ruffled and forehead furrowed.

It was easy to smooth it away with a quick pounce, straddling his hips and kissing him breathless. A bit of an early birthday treat, you supposed, as you nipped and sucked down Keigo’s neck, the little jerks of his hips and swallowed groans only spurred you lower, down to his naked collarbones, grinding down on the hardening bulge in his boxers briefs—

Until your throat began to sting a bit too much for comfort.

You turned your head away, covering your mouth with the back of your hand and clearing your throat.

“Dry air?” Keigo asked with a lopsided grin, hands moving from their wide splay on your inner thighs to around your ribs, coaxing you back into the sheets.

“Feels like it.”

You tried to brush off the feeling, though it lingered as the two of you readied for the day.

A shower was had, steam filling the bathroom as you both sleepily washed each other. It was early enough to indulge in some chaste (and not-so chaste) kisses between washing each other in the spray.

Water poured down from the ceiling-mounted shower head, slicking the two of you with heat. Your head laid against Keigo’s chest as he washed your back, gently swaying your bodies with the tips of his wings against the dewy walls of the shower.

Resting against his chest was a comfort, so early. The day was packed, and you both knew it. A bit of respite before the chaos was much needed and incredibly welcomed.

“Are you sure you need to go to work?” Keigo whined, the pads of his fingers dipping into any tension in your lower back. “I’d love to keep my little chickadee by my side all day.”

You sighed, “You know I would, but I’ve got that report due today and I think my boss will kill me if I don’t get it in on time.”

Keigo huffed, giving your ass cheek a little pinch. It worked to his favor as you yelped, falling against him. You felt him smirk against your wet hair.

“You could always just quit--” Keigo reminded you, a long-standing offer once more put directly on the metaphorical table.

...

It had become quite obvious that Keigo really loved taking care of you. It helped him in unspeakable ways that he had trouble describing to himself, let alone you. As much as he was considered lazy and brash by his colleagues, regarded as too much and too blunt, often to the point of detriment, he was nothing if not goal-oriented.

He just wanted to rest.

Keigo would give the world to just laze around, preferably and hopefully with you, as much as he could while still being a hero. Trouble was, he wasn’t built for loafing about. His years at the Commission truly altered the way his mind and body ran, permanently. It wasn’t something he was ever very explicit about with you, or himself for that matter. All of the brutal training— disgustingly long days with late nights and early mornings, harsh tests or endurance and stamina, and the pushing and pushing of his speed had a great side effect.

He couldn’t rest most of the time.

His body wouldn’t, couldn’t, as with his mind. Whether he was at home lounging or taking a break at his agency, he was always on guard, mentally sprinting for the next moment, and often without cause. It kept him constantly poised, tense, and on edge.

But when you came into his life, that slowly began to change.

It didn’t happen too early in your relationship, the beginning was slow after all. Lots of dancing around each other's feelings, banter and flirting which both of you equally were equally enraptured by the other, but assumed it was all baseless.

It hardly was.

Slowly as you too became closer, sharing space and nights twisted in the sheets together, early morning cups of coffee and little experiences Keigo never imagined he’d have with another person, something started to shift.

When you started to settle in his life, Keigo had something to take care of and god, did it calm him. His need to be constantly moving, doing something, was still there, but when you were settled in his arms, he had something to do— many things to do.

He had the privilege of taking care of you.

You were far more than an outlet for his energy, that would be a complete reduction of your relationship and you, but it was one of the many things Keigo was so grateful to you for.

...

You sighed wistfully, “Maybe someday, love. For now, I gotta get out of here, I don’t want to be late. And neither should you.”

“Aw, babe,” Keigo pouted, grabbing your ass with two hands, massaging at the residual suds in time with your budding whines and gasps. “Not even time for a quickie?”

“Later,” You slapped his hands away playfully. “Have you ever heard of ‘birthday sex’, love? You’ll be getting plenty of it.”

Keigo gave you one of his signature golden grins, cupping your jaw for a few more desperate kisses before you both exited the shower.

He helped you towel off, starting from your ankles to your thighs, lips trailing with promises of the coming day. They stretched up to your ribs, little nips placed on the underside of your breasts before he dried them. You watched his wings ripple and shift with each brush of his lips, obviously getting off on the treatment as much as you were.

Fuck, did you adore him with your whole heart.

As you both dressed for the day, Keigo checked in, ever attentive.

“I’ll pick you up at your place this evening around eight, be dressed and ready for me, okay baby? We’ll go right to the venue.”

You nodded, reminded of the gorgeous (and pricey) outfit he’d treated you too, fitted just right and coordinating perfectly with his own outfit. It was the perfect match, absolutely ideal to show yourselves as the pair you were.

“Perfect, I’ll be ready, done up and waiting,” You glowed with the thought, ignoring the twinge of pain, deep in your muscles.

Nothing a cup of coffee and a few extra stolen kisses wouldn’t fix.

You dressed quickly, rushing off to the subway as Keigo took off from the wide balcony of his apartment to prepare for his own day of preparations for the celebration.

The party would begin that night and wear into his birthday, midnight sounding would mean a round of shots for anyone who could still stand and a jeering of cheers for the beloved number two hero.

Meanwhile, you and your still-dry throat scampered off to work.

...

It proved to not just be a dry throat.

As you sat down at your desk to begin your shift, a little twine of dread had wormed its way into your ribs as an odd exhaustion settled in your bones.

As your shift began, a myriad of symptoms arose.

The air felt cold, too cold for what you were used to at your office. The cardigan your kept handy hardly did anything to keep out the unnatural chill. You took note of it with a few quick glances at your coworkers, all looking perfectly temperate in blouses and dress shirts.

The knowledge did nothing to soothe your chattering teeth.

Next came the headache, a pounding behind your eyes as snot began to ooze from your nose, a little pile of tissues filled your small trash bin. In an act of desperation, you chugged your water bottle, hoping it would quell some of the stabbing pain that was stuffing your skull.

(It didn’t.)

After your vision went double looking at your monitors, you relented and laid your head on the flat of your desk.

The dry throat you’d had worsened next, little coughs turning into hacking, dry wheezes that couldn’t be ignored in the din of your workplace. You covered them the best you could, trying to put on your best face as you slowly and painfully completed your due report.

All the same, someone must’ve spotted you and your poor state as you were sent home shortly after.

It wasn’t even noon yet.

You tried to rationalize on the subway ride home.

Admitting to being sick meant that the entire night would be beyond fucked. It was supposed to be a perfect night to let loose and be open with your love, not one spent curled in bed and aching.

You had time, you resolved, you could fix this.

Despite the fact that, even in your winter coat, you were fucking freezing, you convinced yourself that you weren’t sick.

You couldn’t be.

The ache in your muscles was from sleep deprivation and fatigue, obviously. The winter air was the source of your burning throat and eyes. Getting sick wasn’t an option.

As you journeyed home, you made a vow to simply sleep off your ills.

Nothing a little rest couldn’t fix.

You practically kicked the door to your apartment open, the sound hardly phasing you as your ears had begun to ring on and off on the ride home. You haphazardly dropped your purse to the floor of your small foyer, kicking off your shoes and padding to your kitchen.

You rapidly tried to think of some remedies while still hardly acknowledging any potential illness.

Your first thought was tea, something herbal with lemon and honey tossed in to soothe your throat. The kettle was set and bubbling as you gathered your supplies for a cup that was sure to soothe you in full.

The kettle clicked off, and you poured the steaming water into your cute mug (a gift from Keigo) with shaking hands, ignoring the trembling and hyper-focusing on making sure the stream was in the correct place.

Was pouring water always this hard?

You ignored the thought.

Rather, you wandered off to the bedroom, praying the heat from the mug in your hands, scalding, would warm your shivering body.

(As if you weren’t already burning up.)

You hardly had sense left in you by the time you crawled into the sheets, ruffling them as you attempted to burrow in any heat they could provide. The chill of the unused bedding seeped into you as your teeth chattered. You couldn’t be bothered to even change from your work clothes, the thought of any nakedness sending a new sharp shiver through you.

You just needed a quick nap.

As much as you wanted to sip away at your tea, your mind was going fuzzier by the minute. You sank into the mattress, steaming liquid (and the night’s coming events) forgotten as you fell into a fitful sleep.

...

Your dreams were sordid.

Vivid colors and loud sounds, hardly making any sense, but still, hardly fear into your cooking brain without reason. It blended into some horrid mix of sensations that had you tossing and turning in your sheets.

...

Tap, tap, tap.

...

The sound made your ears burn.

You groaned, shoving your pounding head into the pillow.

...

Tap, tap, tap, tap.

...

It had to be a sound from the inside of your skull, it had to be with how much it thundered, the pounding in your head going harder with each sharp knock.

...

Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap.

The sound was more insistent now, oscillating between your dream and reality.

The pressure in your forehead wasn’t helping.

...

Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap—

...

“What the fuck,” You audibly cursed, pushing yourself out of bed and awake as you could be. Holding yourself above the sheets, your swallowed back bile as your stomach rolled with new nausea.

Your gaze drifted to a red glow in the room, your alarm clock—

8:34 PM.

Oh.

Oh fuck.

Tap, tap, tap, tap—

As fast as you could push your aching muscles to move, you slipped from the bed, whimpering at the chill of the cold floors and air. Shakily, you wrapped a throw blanket around your shoulders and padded to the living room.

Your stomach dropped as Keigo waited outside the balcony door.

His party was starting within the hour.

You hadn’t changed, showered, or done any sort of primping. Your outfit that was still hung on the back of your bedroom door, untouched and cold.

Tears sprung to your eyes as you slowly made your way to the door, trying to avoid Keigo’s gaze.

Your shaking hands undid the latch.

You swallowed back as many symptoms as you could, mind racing to figure how quickly you could get ready and if you even could. Makeup could be completed quickly, messily more than likely, but maybe Keigo could touch it up for you once you arrived. Your hair was a nightmare, but maybe you could tame it with a few extra minutes—

As the door opened, you stepped to the side, wrapping the blanket tighter around you. Maybe, Keigo wasn’t upset with you, maybe you could get your shit together in fifteen minutes—

Keigo’s hands went to his hips, wings tight to his back as a frown settled over his pretty plump lips.

“... You’re not ready?” Keigo asked, stating the obvious as you rubbed a hand over your face.

“N-no,” You cursed at your voice strained and crackled. “Give me a few minutes, I fell asleep.”

You prayed your excuse would be enough.

“... For how long, birdie? Are you okay?” Keigo hardly sounded upset, concern lacing his tone more than anything else.

You turned away from him, trudging back towards your bedroom. It was possible to get yourself ready quickly, it had to be you. The last thing you wanted to do was ruin his birthday with your tardiness (and sickness.) The fear spurred your steps to speed—

But Keigo was always faster.

He caught your wrist, tugging and spinning you back towards him. His hands, fingers wrapped in pretty gold rings, landed on your shoulders. His pretty ambers scanned you down, feathers ruffling as his frown deepened.

“How are you feeling?” Keigo asked, open-ended while his index and forefinger pressed to your pulse point, and his gaze flickered to the fat watch on his wrist.

“‘M fine, Kei’,” You murmured, weakly pushing his hand away. “Let me go get ready, I’ll just be a minute or two, promise.”

Keigo hadn’t looked angry since he’d stepped into your apartment, but his expression was souring in a new way. He pulled you close by the waist, lips finding your forehead.

You both stilled.

You knew you were fucked, with his lips so gentle and sweet against his forehead. He knew you were far worse off than you were letting on.

“Dove,” He murmured, voice low and kind. “How do you feel?”

“S-stop,” You pushed at his chest weakly. “I’m okay, I don’t want to fuck up tonight.”

That made Keigo act, the air practically shifting as he scooped you up in his arms, throwing your arms around his neck as he carried you to your bedroom. Setting you onto the sheets, you wrapped your blanket around you tighter, stomach rolling and head burning with its ache and new tears pricking your eyes.

Keigo kneeled, settled between your knees, cupping your cheeks and continuing to look you over.

“Do you have a thermometer? I think you’ve got a fever,” Keigo asked, tapped your chin towards him when you tried to look away from him.

Ignoring his question (you had to), you bit your lip, “I don’t want to ruin your night, Keigo, ‘m sorry.”

Your words slurred as little tears began to drip down your burning cheeks. You rubbed at them with your blanket-covered fists.

Honestly? You felt pretty pathetic. The fever rotting your skull was definitely affecting your judgment, but you didn’t have the sense to care or rationalize.

“Little bird,” Keigo softened, concern coloring his features. “You don’t need to worry about that. Can you tell me where your thermometer is? Maybe some pain medicine too?”

You shook your head, little tears turning fat as you lowered your head.

Keigo audibly winced, something you hardly caught with your sickness was swarming.

“Baby, don’t cry now, it’s alright,” Keigo assured you, pushing your hands away to take the task of wiping your tears away, the chill of the rings on his fingers almost burning. “Don’t worry about the party.”

“But, K-Keigo,” Your voice wobbled as your wrapped your hand around his wrist, over his watch. “You need to go, your party is soon.”

It was.

Your gazes both slide to the alarm clock nearby, the time steadily creeping towards the party’s official start time for the press. There were already scheduled interviews, you and Keigo were to be photographed and ogled at, him shining and dazzling in his signature, blunt way.

You were supposed to be on his arm—

Except, you were feverishly between his palms, crying steadily at the thought of missing the evening.

“Dovie, I need you to listen, please,” Keigo urged you, rubbing heat into your cheeks (even though they were already scalding). “You don’t need to worry about the party. That doesn’t matter. What does is that you’re obviously not feeling well—“

“I’m f-fine!”

It was meant to be a strong declaration, something that would convince Keigo that your feverish state didn’t impede your ability to attend, or at least impede his.

“You’re burning up,” Keigo reminded you.

Your tummy tossed and you shook your head.

He just kept talking, “I’m staying until I know you’re alright—”

That got you even more upset, shaking your head hard and fast even as your skull throbbed.

“No, n-no, no,” You pleaded. It was one thing for you to be unable to attend the highly-anticipated evening, it was entirely another for Keigo to be late to his own party, let alone fucking miss the event— “N-no, absolutely fucking not, ‘Kei. You can’t—”

You wept into his hands as hot tears trailed from the corners of your eyes to drip down your jaw.

...

Keigo’s heart hurt.

His hands shook, more-than-likely imperceptible to you as you sobbed in his hands, soon in his arms, as he sat on the edge of the bed to pull your burning body into his lap.

He tucked your face into the crook of his neck, playing with the hair at the back of your neck, unable to ignore how hot and clammy your skin remained, despite how you shivered and how your teeth clattered together.

You were sick and worked up, that much was for certain.

His wings flexed, the muscles bound-up and more tense than he would’ve liked. Worry laced his expression, his actions, as he tucked your sweaty and tear-matted hair behind your ear.

“It’s okay for you to miss tonight, there’ll be more times to do things like this together,” Keigo quietly assured you.

“But it’s your birthday—”

“That doesn’t matter to me more than you,” Keigo’s breath hitched with his own honest, full-chested admission. “It’s just a night, chickadee. I’m far more concerned with you.”

That unignorable itch and urge his chest flared, hot and bright as your fever and burning cheeks. He squeezed around your body, wishing he could absorb a bit of your hurt as his lips brushed over your temples.

“N-no,” You pulled away from him, shaking your head. “You c-cannot get sick. No.”

Keigo raised an eyebrow at your teary expression.

“I can do whatever I’d like,” He tilted his head sympathetically. “Which is why I’m staying—”

Your expression brightened in the same breath as you narrowed your gaze. Something about the heat swimming in your skull made things tilt and shift perspective.

Why is he being so insistent?

“Are...” You swallowed around your words, hands folding in your lap. “Are you trying to get out of going to your own event?”

...

That might’ve been too much.

Even your feverish mind could tell you were being stubborn to a fault. The thought of Keigo taking care of you while you were obviously not doing well warmed you in an actually good way.

And it seemed you were expressing that same brand of honesty that Keigo was so known for exercising.

You weren’t even sure how you deduced such a claim, but still, you’d ask, perhaps fanning the flame—

“... Looks like you caught me, little bird,” Keigo chuckled, something sad and low, chin tucking over the top of your head.

You remained silent for a moment, head ringing.

“... You don’t want to go tonight?” You asked, softer this time. The rings on his fingers clicked as he drew absent-minded shapes over your clothed thighs.

“It’s complicated,” Keigo admitted. “I’d much rather spend the night with you, here.”

You were both silent for a while.

The last of your tears ebbed away as the thoughts of the evening of dancing and drinking faded. The outfit in its garment bag was forgotten as your hands buried into Keigo’s hair.

His hands played with the hem of your shirt, a reminder that you’d never changed after work, too sick to even crawl from your business casual dressings.

You broke the silence, voice crackling with a suppressed cough.

“The thermometers under the sink in the bathroom.”

...

Keigo returned after nestling you in your sheets.

He had helped you from your work clothes, gently helping pull off and away your sweat-dampened blouse and bottoms. Gentle hands and nimble fingers slipped you into some sleep clothes, sweatpants and a long sleeve Keigo had left at yours some time ago. The slots that had been cut for his wings felt far too breezy, but the comfort of the garment being his far outweighed it.

You wrapped yourself in it as you burrowed into the sheets.

Keigo sat on the edge of the bed, tapping the tip of the thermometer against your lips, “Open, angel.”

Your lips barely cracked open, just enough for the device to be slotted on the top of your tongue. A few of Keigo’s feathers trailed him, bringing a lukewarm rag that he sat on your forehead.

You shivered and let out a whine, giving him a frown as the thermometer beeped.

101.8 °F.

“That doesn’t sound good,” You muttered, burying yourself deeper. “‘M sorry again.”

“No need to apologize,” Keigo assured you once more. Despite the practiced steadiness of his tone, his wings were half-unfurled, poised and tensed. Nervousness radiated from him in a way that he prayed you were too out of it to pick up. “I just want to make sure you’re alright, dove, promise.”

You gave him a shallow nod as Keigo portioned out a dose of cold medicine into the provided cup, scrutinizing the line on the cheap plastic.

“Why did you plan such a big night if you’re trying to get out of it?” You asked, fisting the duvet. “You don’t need to, do you?”

“I don’t,” Keigo sighed, awed by how quickly he admits his inner workings to you (yet again.) “It is a fun night, a lot of fun. It’s just...”

He trailed off as he set down the sickly green bottle with a sigh.

Why did he plan such a night if part of him was goddamn ecstatic about the opportunity to bail on it?

“A lot. It’s just a lot.”

“... You don’t even like drinking much, do you?” You asked, rising up from under your many blankets despite your shivering.

Once, Keigo did. His birthday was a time to get drunk on a bottle of too-expensive liquor on the floor of his too-expensive, too-empty penthouse while trying not to simmer in the loneliness that had become his norm.

“I used to,” Keigo said, a bit too wistful. “The party was just an excuse to not do it alone.”

It was far more fun to get shitfaced with a crowd of folks who saw him as beloved, even if they didn’t really see him. It was more entertaining to dance the night away, fill his room with pretty, tight cunts, one after the other than lay on the cold hardwood of his own floor, ignoring the clawing despondence that he couldn’t avoid as he got another year older—

Either way, alone or not, fucked up or fucked or not, he always felt rotten the next day.

“I don’t want you to be alone,” Your words were soft, maybe just for yourself, but Keigo caught them all the same. “I’m right here.”

“I know,” Keigo placed the little cup to your dry lips. “That’s why I don’t want to go.”

...

You swallowed down the medicine, grimacing at the taste and gagging. Your rolling stomach didn’t appreciate the flavor, bile rising in the back of your throat.

“Easy now,” Keigo ran a hand through your hair as another cup was placed to your lips. “Sip.”

You wrapped your hands over Keigo’s as you all-but chugged the water, even if your stuffy nose made it taste dusty and odd.

“Good girl,” Keigo beamed, pressing a kiss to your shoulders, urging you back into the sheets. “Can you scoot for me?”

You nodded, purring with the praise, and shifted only enough for Keigo to join you in the covers, perfectly windswept, styled hair mussed up against the pillows, outfit rumpled without a care otherwise.

You both wrapped up the other in an instant.

Keigo was warm, as were you, even if you couldn’t feel it. Your body ached with each movement, your limbs growing heavy with the syrupy medicine.

“You should go,” You told him softly, speaking quickly before Keigo could disagree. “Just for a little bit. Fashionably late, and all. See some folks.”

“... I don’t want to leave you like this,” He squeezed you, burying his face in your hair.

“I’m just sick, Keigo,” You frowned, little fingers pulling at his jaw so you could meet his gaze. “I’m not dying.”

Sure, you felt like absolute shit at that moment, but the tug of slumber was beginning to outweigh your symptoms.

“Are you sure?”

You didn’t miss the tremble in Keigo’s tone.

“Of course,” You rubbed your fingers over his stubbly chin and soft cheeks. “I’ll be right here, always.”

And both of you shared a quiet moment of understanding.

...

Keigo stayed until you fell asleep, though it didn’t take long at all. Your head laid on his chest, hot puffs of breath pulling from your parted lips as Keigo took to running his hands wherever he could reach.

Your body was hot, hot enough to worry him, but he placated his protective urges (as much as he could) with the sound logic that you, indeed, did just have a fever, albeit a bad one.

Keigo left you with an array of feathers, settled around and up against your body, Your cheek was tucked into one of the broader ones, filaments remaining silken and soft. It would be a bit overwhelming, the sensation of you and your body with the crowds, paparazzi and sounds, but he’d manage.

He arrived fashionably late with a golden smile, and left unexpectedly early before the hour even struck midnight.

The turning of his birthday would be shared elsewhere.

...

You were right there, just as you promised when he returned.

The rustling of fabric and feathers is what roused you, half-way and through your medicine-induced haze.

There was the quiet sound of your dresser opening and shutting as your eyes recognized.

Your vision was blurred, but you still outstretched your palm to Keigo. He was still changing, pretty outfit gone, rings and watch discarded onto the top of your dresser. He stood nearly naked, just in boxer briefs and his entirely unbuttoned dress shirt.

“Pretty bird,” Your voice slurred as Keigo graced you with a lazy smile. “Get over here.”

“On my way, chickadee,” The smile in Keigo’s voice glowed, even in the dark of your room. “Thank you.”

“Love you,” You responded, hand falling onto the duvet, not nearly as uncomfortably cold as before. “So much.”

Keigo’s breath hitched with the common affection.

Sleepily, you wondered, “Has anyone told you that on your birthday?”

You didn’t realize you’d said it aloud.

Keigo was by your side a moment later, feathers returning to his full wings, body warm and comfortable and purely home. You snuggled into him, pulling him close with a hand around his waist, pushing weakly at the tension bound up in the fat he carried above his waist.

His wings rustled, settling half-extended over your mattress and undoubtedly drooping to the floor. Your legs tucked around his, his hands settling over your spine to count each of the vertebrae like it was the beats of a song only you too sang.

Keigo tried his best to ignore his own stray tears. It was easier to cry around you, either because he was so damn comfortable around you, or that you were a bit of a crybaby yourself.

Either way, Keigo was grateful for it.

You, in your feverish state, only felt Keigo in all of his rawness. The swell and crest of his breath, the tempo of his heart, the gentle hands and precious pressure he doled out against the tension you bore in your body, all were familiar but blessed no matter how many times you were graced by him.

Keigo wasn’t an angel, he was better than one, wings aside.

You cracked your sleep eyes open, palms around his jaw, cupping and caressing as was your rite.

Your gaze drifted just beyond Keigo to the glow of your alarm clock.

12:03 AM.

“Happy birthday, love.”

Keigo didn’t reply, only giving an audible swallow and a shaky swallow. You can feel his tears soak your fingertips.

You kissed them away, licking at the salt with the tip of your tongue, relishing Keigo’s little giggles, all for you and him to share, just the two of you.

“I adore you, you know,” you admitted, though he already knew so well. “I love you, Keigo. Thank you.”

Maybe a few of your own tears fell as you pressed your cheek to his, kissing up and down his jaw, nosing at the beat of his heart under his jaw.

Keigo layered love onto you, little repetitions, desperately returned, and shared affection. ‘I love you’s and sentiments too soft and important slipped between the two of you as sleep pulled you both under.

...

The morning came with the graces of a gentle, orange sun.

It stretched over the sheets, slipping in, uninvited but not unwanted, from around the thin curtains you had hung.

Once more, you awoke to Keigo’s little coos and hums, though he was far less awake.

Before even opening your eyes, your lips found his own. Both yours and his were parched from sleep, sticky breath hardly pleasant, but neither of you minded.

You swallowed a surprised chirp from him, rolling your hips into his own.

Keigo stilled you with a gentle hand on the back of your thighs, gripping the fat and flesh with enough force to have you purring.

“Mornin’, chickadee,” Keigo broke the kiss only to murmur against your lips.

“Hi,” You pulled away to smooth your thumbs over his cheeks, still sticky from the night before. “I love you.”

And Keigo lit, matching with the rays that filled your room, “I love you too.”

You beamed back, not bright in that same way, but luminous all the same.

Keigo took you in breathlessly, the simpleness of you leaching all air from his lungs and unwanted thoughts from his mind.

If Keigo was like the sun, all gold in the morning and red in dusk, then you were every other star that wreathed the moon. You didn’t see it, not the same way he did, but then again, only Keigo had the privilege of seeing the way how you exchanged pieces of yourselves with each other without fear.

The tenderness of that morning was far, far better than anything he’d had in years past. He missed nothing about the pounding of his skull from the liquor the night prior, the insistent need to piss out his sins and the clingings of at least a dozen perfumes from the night before.

Even that hot and fast burning ecstasy couldn’t compare to sharing the morning sun with you.

“How do you feel?” You asked, breaking Keigo from his quiet worship.

Keigo snorted, pressing his lips to your forehead, gauging the temperature, “I should be asking you that.”

“Sweaty,” You tugged on the long sleeve and bumped one of your now-naked thighs into his own. “I think my fever broke in my sleep.”

Thank God.

Keigo reached around you, rustling around for the thermometer, and placing it under your tongue.

99.3 °F.

“Looks like it,” Keigo let out a sigh of relief. “Do you feel better?”

“Mostly,” You nosed your way back under his chin for all the extra affections you could give. “Just tired.”

“We’ll have an easy day then,” Keigo replied, feathers rippling at the idea of a slow, free day in bed with you.

“But it’s your birthday— “

Keigo cut you off with a finger to your lips and a sly smile, “And I would like nothing more than to spend it, like this, with you.”

You inspected his face for any signs of dishonesty.

There wasn’t even one.

“Okay, then let me rephrase,” You huffed a little. “But what about birthday sex? I really was prepared to have you cum down my throat at least four times today.”

Keigo snorted again, flitting laughter bursting from his lips as he pulled you to his chest and smothered you with kisses.

“There’s absolutely nothing stopping us from fucking until the sun goes down, other than how you feel and what you’re up for,” Keigo reminded you, his hand drifting up to your ass and squeezing. The way you jolted into him with a little whine had Keigo already wanting. “I can make it nice and easy for you, little bird.”

You shuddered, hands drifting to the roots of his wings and teasing the small, silken feathers, “Why don’t you show me?”

Keigo needed no other command.

...

You knew Keigo could be so greedy with his touches. Some nights he’d take and take and take. He’d pull from you anything and everything you’d offer, leaving you gasping and stuffed-full with a happily broken mind. He loved stealing your breath with the pounding of his hips, stealing the sounds from your lips as they came, though you gave them freely.

That day didn’t feel like that.

“I want to be so deep in you, dovey,” Keigo purred, cooing from the back of his throat. His hand slipped between your clammy thighs. “Feel you all over.”

The pad of his index fingers ran over your clothed clit, teasing and wanting in the same moment.

“Y-you can have me any way you want,” Your voice had already gone gooey and high, pitching up and sweetened. “Wanna make you feel good.”

You rubbed at the apex of his wings, where the little feathers bled from the roots of his wings to the base bones. A low groan rumbled from his chest, one of your favorite sounds. Nothing got Keigo weaker than little pets and play to his wings. They were so sensitive from years of touch solely by his own hand. They were coveted, a part of the holy structure of his body that he hardly allowed anyone else to fully take in unless necessary, before you anyways.

That was your privilege.

Keigo slipped your panties off, the cotton fabric discarded and forgotten. A moment later, your shirt followed, leaving you bear to him.

There was still the impulse to cover yourself. Keigo loved looking at you, his pupils wide as they traced over your curves night after night like it was the first time he’d seen your skin and curves.

That morning, the feeling fell away quickly as you urged his own scraps of clothing off.

He was already hard, leaking from the thought and sight of you. You were hardly different, Keigo’s fingers teasing the lips of your sex and pulling away wet.

Without shame, he popped the finger into his mouth, sucking away your slick like it was nectar.

You tipped onto your back, pulling Keigo with you. One hand remained buried and busy with his wing while the other slipped between your bodies, wrapping around his pretty cock and stroking slow.

He gasped into your mouth as you thumbed over the head.

Smiling against his lips, you nipped and sucked his bottom lip into your mouth, enjoying your little moment of control.

Keigo stole it back quickly.

Carefully, he grabbed the back of your thighs, pushed your legs up and out. Before you had a chance to so much as whimper, Keigo slid a finger into your cunt, then two, curling against the bundle of nerves.

Your back arched, your grip on him tightened as you gasped his name like the last note of a hymn.

And Keigo wanted more.

“Tell me if it hurts,” Keigo panted, breathless and strained as he adjusted your legs over his shoulders, bearing his weight on his arms that went to brace around your head.

“C-can I have a pillow?”

“For your hips?”

“Uh-huh.”

Keigo gave you a flurry of kisses, a wordless ‘of course, I want to make you feel so good’. There was an art to wordless communication and Keigo was a goddamn masterful craftsman.

The pillow slipped was your lower back, tilting your hips up and cushioning them from whatever treatment Keigo laid upon them.

With a shaking hand, he removed yours, guiding it to his wings as he lined up his cock with your cunt and fucked into you in a single fluid motion.

The burn of it was enough to have you gasping, scrambling to hold onto his shoulders and tuck your face into his neck with a whine. Keigo soothed you without question, barely rolling his hips are you adjusted.

He settled over you close, chest brushing yours, the cold of the bars through his nipples always a shock, even when you expected it.

“M-more,” You whined, needy and sweltering with a tug of his wings. “Please.”

Keigo hummed, palming one of your breasts with a twist of your nipple, “But, you beg so pretty, little bird. What if I want to hear more? It is my birthday.”

It was, and Keigo wanted to be so close it hurt. He hardly had the patience for teasing, but when your voice got so syrupy and desperate, he couldn’t help but tug at your soon-to-be-fucked mind.

Truthfully, what Keigo wanted most for his birthday fucking was to stuff you so good and full that your tummy bulged under the flat of his palm. He wanted his cock to brush and bruise the deepest parts of you until all you knew was the chant of his name as you came so well and hard that you fucking blacked out.

But, he had to be tender.

Had to be.

“P-please!” You tilted your hips for more of him as if Keigo wasn’t already filling you up fully and perfectly. “Anything you w-want, please.”

“You mean it, little bird?”

“Uh-huh.”

And sweetly, perfectly, Keigo fucked you into the mattress.

There was some reverie in it, there had to be with the way you so gently carded through the hyper-sensitive, rounded feathers that stretched onto his back. It juxtaposed the way he railed and ruined your cunt, slick sticking your inner thighs and his pelvis with each thrust.

Each motion went so deep, you swore you could feel it in your gut. Maybe, that was why Keigo was fucking you so close, with your bodies pressed together and sharing air and heat so closely, it was hard to tell where another experience ended and another began.

You didn’t expect the first time you came, your eyes stretching wide as your crest drowned you well and sweetly. You buried your face into Keigo’s now marked and bitten neck and let out a choked sob as your cunt fluttered around him.

Keigo took a moment to slow, as he only peaked with you, but he wasn’t ready to be done with you yet. His hips barely moved in you, just nudging deeper, and deeper—

“More,” Greedy, such a greedy little whore. “M-more, please.”

Keigo chuckled, pushing some of his sweaty waves back, “Think you can handle it, little bird?”

Your face, hot with pleasure and eyes wide with want, went determined as you tugged on the wings, nails raking through the unpreened feathers.

“Fuck me like you mean it, K-Keigo— Daddy.”

Keigo stilled, raising an eyebrow, ignoring the flaring of hot, yellow fire in his chest, “You really want to push that button so early?”

“Were you planning to fuck me like a pussy the rest of the morning?”

Where did your fire come from? You were sure, maybe it was the leavings of your fever, but you didn’t care. You wore your smitten grin as Keigo’s gaze darkened, pupils so fat and focused, the citrine of his eyes was swallowed whole.

Keigo slapped a hand over your mouth, squeezing around your jaw, and fucking into you once, sharper and deeper than he had before. Your vision nearly went white, body fucked over-sensitive once but still begging for more.

Greedy, greedy, greedy.

Gluttons, the both of you.

As per your request and Keigo’s deepest wants, Keigo fucked you so earnestly, deeply, and without holding back that part of you feared the bed would break.

Each cant of his hips had your tugging at his feathers, the twitch of his cock inside more than enough of a sign at how fucking wild your touch was making him. That wasn’t to mention the filth that rolled from his lips, pants and whines and groans and words—

“Daddy’s little bird just gives so well, d-don’t you?” Keigo’s probably bruising your cervix, but you didn’t have the mind to care. “Letting me t-take whatever I want?”

You nodded behind his palm, half shrieking as his hand slipped between your bodies, rubbing your swollen clit, hot pressure building up in your gut by his hand, just as you liked.

As much as he took, he gave.

It only took a few more moments for you to sob behind his palm, clutching as your shoulders as you came so hot and bright and well, your vision sparkled and went black.

With the way your cunt clamped down around Keigo’s cock, he came just behind, filling you so, so good. His hand flew to your tummy, eyes rolling back in his head as he felt himself fill you with fat cock and thick cum.

You gasped as you came down, panting and clutching at Keigo as he did the same. You hushed each other with des[erate kisses, quiet praises too precious and sacred to be written, but that could certainly be felt in the air that remained conjunct between the pair of you.

Keigo rose from your body, thighs shaking in time with your own as he lowered your legs on to the sheets.

You were both messes, covered in sweat and spit and sweetness, but neither of you cared.

“You okay, little bird?” He asked, soft in the aftermath, kissing the damp apples of your cheeks.

“Uh-huh,” You gave him the best type of fucked out smile. “Can’t wait for more, it is your birthday.”

“And...” Keigo found himself speaking without thinking. “You’re here for it? All of it?”

He knew that, did he really need the reassurance—?

“Every bit of it, lovebird,” You tacked on the nickname, rising on your undoubtedly sore hips. “Every moment.”

And he couldn’t be happier about it.

||||||||||||||||||

thank you for reading!!!! 💕

ko-fi

#salem writes #hawks x reader #hawks #takami keigo x reader #takami keigo #hawks imagines #hawks x you #mha x reader #my hero academia #happy birthday birdie <33 #heart full #its been a weird couple of days BUT!!#here #some good soft smut and just #goodness #and hurt too bc :)#anyways enjoy lovies!!!

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thefanficmonster · 3 years ago

Text

Beyond The Darkness

Corpse Husband x Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: Angst, Relationship Struggles, Self-doubt, Insecurities, Swearing

Genre: Angst with Fluff Ending, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: Y/N finally expresses their worries, reluctance and suspicions regarding their relationship with Corpse who is more than surprised to be hearing such confession, thinking their relationship couldn’t be more perfect. Well, perfect on the surface.

Requested by @cinnamonbun332 Hi darling! I’m so sorry it’s taken me so long to complete and post your request, but here it finally is! You asked for some heartbreaking and then heart-healing and I hope I delivered properly. Please enjoy! Love, Vy ❤

I didn’t choose to be insecure, I never wanted to be so anxious and self-conscious. No one can blame that on me for it’s something I’d get rid of within the blink of an eye if it were that easy. I didn’t choose to fall in love with Corpse either, it just happened. I was taken by storm by the feelings he awoke in me. It was terrifying and made me become a whole different person around him. I was torn between wanting him by my side at all times and never wanting to see him again for the purpose of those feelings dying down. That being said, I can’t be blamed for that either.

However, I can be blamed for one thing: accepting his offer for a date. I didn’t have to. I probably shouldn’t have accepted it just as much as he shouldn’t have brought it up. But, alas, I couldn’t help myself. That storm of emotions, that stirring lava within the volcano I was at the time was dying to seep out to the surface so it wouldn’t burn me from the inside out. Him asking me out on a date was practically the vessel for me to finally have a chance at expressing myself and how I feel and that’s something I’ve never been able to do properly or openly.

But with Corpse it has always been so easy.

Or...it was so easy.

It was easy until I started overthinking everything. Every interaction between us, between him and his friends. Between our two separate worlds.

I now have a hard time seeing us as a union, like we’re living together on the same planet of understanding and companionship. No, we’re more alike two planets in orbits near one another that are close but not close enough. Never destined to touch. Where I once saw light, I now see nothing. Almost as if I flipped the switch to my happiness myself. I wouldn’t be surprised if I did, it wouldn’t be my first time. I have a way of always finding a way to kill my happiness, put an end to my bliss. The key to doing so is what I already mentioned: overthinking, underestimating, undermining, over-worrying. In short: allowing my mind to torture me.

Sadly, it’s also forcing me to torture others.

At the moment, I’m spending day four back into my apartment, having come back with the excuse that I needed to get some piping fixed in the kitchen and needed to watch over the plumbers as they worked. I think Corpse bought that only halfway but if he didn’t believe me, he didn’t show it and I’m grateful for it. Or at least I think I am. Obviously, there was a part of me which screamed ‘See, he doesn’t care!’ at me when all he said in response to my announcement was ‘Oh, ok’. Of course, I didn’t pay that voice much mind then, but it’s starting to creep back in now and I really don’t know what to distract myself with to avoid hearing it. It’s not like I can internally deafen myself to stop it from eating away at me slowly but intently and with a scary determination that even I myself don’t have. Sadly, the pessimistic side of me does.

Truth be told, I wasn’t planning on staying home alone for four days straight, thinking I wouldn’t be able to make it that long without Corpse, thinking my loneliness would kill me. But, now that I am indeed alone, for some reason, I don’t feel really lonely, if at all. It’s refreshing and new, like a new but old perspective. Basically one I’ve missed for quite some time now without knowing that I did. Who knew going back to my empty apartment would be the cure to my messy head. Well, not a direct cure, but I have managed to map out at least a small portion of what’s going on up there, mend some of the damage I’ve done to myself.

Why do you always do that?

There’s that voice again, and some audacity it has! I’m not doing anything to myself! That voice is!

Saying that in court would easily land you in a mental facility, you know.

Fucking touché.

I think the reason why this is happening to me at the moment is because it’s been exactly four days since I last contacted Corpse. Or since he last contacted me. See what I’m going for here? See how toxic my mindset can be? Yeah, even I can hardly believe it sometimes. Like, how can something so dark be part of me - someone who used to be so cheerful and bubbly growing up. My nickname used to be ‘sunflower’ for a reason, but I might as well be a wilted willow now.

And who do you have to blame for that?

Will you fucking shut it!!!

As I’m in the midst of yet another self-argument, I near the doorbell ring, scaring me to the point I almost fall off my desk chair. I only then become aware of the blank MS Word document staring back at me. Throwing myself into work hasn’t been able to help me today. Instead of it distracting me from my struggles, it’s the other way around and I can’t fucking stand it.

Just like I’m beginning not to be able to stand myself. How Corpse and my friends do it, I have no idea. Well, they have it easy I guess, they don’t have to hear all the shit that happens in this beehive on my shoulders.

I lazily saunter over to open the door, not even thinking about looking through the peephole prior to turning the doorknob and swinging it open. That’s a mistake, considering that the mess I am is now face to face with Corpse. Let’s be honest, I’m past the point of stressing over how I look in front of him, we’ve been dating for almost a year now after all. However, this look on me right now is beyond disturbing. One that would leave him questioning if I need help or if I’m doing alright. The answer to both of those questions is no, by the way. Yes, to both.

“Corpse?“ I croak out, fighting my way out of the cloud of confusion surrounding me.

“Y/N?“ He replies, mimicking me though his confusion isn’t as much confusion as it is concern. Gotta say - rightfully so.

I shake my head as if awakening from a fever dream, basically hitting the ground head-first, “Um...yeah, uh, come in!” I finally manage to say, forcing my feet to step aside to allow him inside.

He nods and takes a step beyond the doorstep, cautious as though I’ve rigged the place with traps. I mean, ok, I’m weird, but not that weird. I’m not a complete psycho. At least not yet. Give me a few more months by myself. Or weeks.

“I haven’t been here in so long...“ he mumbles, sounding almost as if he’s talking to himself. Before I could say anything, he wanders off into the kitchen, “Where are the plumbers?“

“What plumbers?“ I blurt out, unable to contain the widening of my eyes when I realize what I’ve said.

You. Fucking. Idiot!!!

“The ones you came here to monitor...?“ His answer sounds more like a question as well, both of us just staring at each other as we await what idiocy will leave my brain and come out of my mouth next.

The silence lasts for a few seconds before he breaks it by speaking up again, “There are no plumbers, are there?”

“No, not today! I mean- not right now.“ I resist the urge to smack my forehead with the palm of my hand in embarrassment. “They’ll come back...later! They were here up until an hour ago.“

Real smooth, Y/N. This is why you never play Among Us

Corpse looks around, even taking a peek over my shoulder before making a mock-confused expression as he shrugs his shoulders, “Your kitchen looks pretty tidy for being a place of such complex fixes happening.“

I let out a hysterical gust of laughter, squeezing my thumb so hard I might rip it off my hand, “Yeah, you know me, I like my living space tidy.”

He nods slowly, “Yeah, I know you. I know you’re not.“

The air gets caught in my throat when he eyes meet mine when he says that. I feel redness creeping up my neck, spreading across my cheeks and climbing up to my forehead and ears.

Oh you’d so be ejected right now

“Y/N, what’s really going on here? Why have you been avoiding me? Did I do something wrong? If so, please just tell me. This silent treatment and avoiding is killing me. If I didn’t come here I would’ve gone insane. You would’ve found my walls with writings on them...“ He stops talking abruptly, letting out a soundless sigh as though his soul left his body, his gaze softening with sadness, “That is, of course, if you were even planning to come back. Ever...“

“Of course I was!“ I exclaim, feeling my chest tighten at the hurt I see in his eyes, “I just...I needed time. I still do.“

“Time away from what?“ He asks, desperate to hear the answer no matter how much it could hurt him.

I honestly don’t know what to tell him. I have no idea what I’m running from. I don’t even know if I’m running, hiding, contemplating, I have no idea what I’m doing. Is he the problem? Am I? Are we the problem? Our relationship as a whole?

“I don’t need time from anything, Corpse. I just...I need some time with myself. With my own thoughts. I’m really torn, have been for quite some time now. I don’t know what I’m doing or what I’m supposed to do. I don’t know if I’m doing is the right thing. I don’t know if we are the right thing. I-...“ I buffer for a second, feeling the words start getting more and more tripped up as they climb up my throat. Eventually, they end up getting caught in an invisible net which doesn’t allow them to make it to my mouth, let alone leave it. Now at a loss for words, I let out a sigh of defeat, feeling my eyes welling up with tears, “I don’t know anything, damn it! I’m a mess. Why do you tolerate me? I’m no good to myself let alone to someone else!“

I don’t know where this outburst came from, but I’d be a liar if I said it wasn’t relieving. I feel like a popped balloon, letting out what’s been straining me from the inside for a long time now. Lord knows how Corpse took it, I can’t bring myself to look up at him, but all I know is that I finally did something I can officially deem right.

Suddenly, I feel the familiar touch of Corpse’s hands on my shoulders, pulling my chest flush against his, his arms wrapping around me, enveloping me in a tight embrace. His lips plans a kiss a the top of my head before he rests his chin there, holding me tightly.

“Why haven’t you told me any of this?“ He whispers, his voice emotional to the point of almost making me regret saying all that.

Almost...

“I didn’t want to worry you.“ I let out a half-hearted chuckle, “And I didn’t want you finding out what kind of nut-job you’re dating.“

He scoffs, “Even if you were a nut-job, Y/N - which, by the way, you’re not - I wouldn’t mind. I’m a nut-job for you. Utterly and completely crazy for you, babe. I’m always here for you, always there for you to talk to me, tell me all that’s going on in that busy head of yours. All you have to do is talk, and all I’ll do is listen.”

I sniff briefly, “Now you’re making me regret not saying it earlier.”

“Then I’m doing the right thing.“ He mutters, his tone suggesting I take the wheel of the conversation and say all I’ve been keeping within me until now.

“You see, I tend to enjoy certain things a lot. Get attached to people super quickly and easily. And then, after a certain period of time, I find myself rethinking and overthinking everything about that thing or person to the point I’m not even sure I like it - or them - anymore. At least not to the same degree as previously. I slowly start become unsure of everything around me, even my own thoughts and feelings. It’s almost like where I used to see light, there’s now darkness. Worst part is, I’m the one who put that light out for myself. I always do it to myself and then hate myself for it. It’s a vicious cycle that I can’t escape - killing my joy and blaming and despising myself for it.“ I sigh, nuzzling my face into his chest, “I just wish this curse avoided our relationship. You’re too good to me, I love you too much to lose you, Corpse.“

I feel his arms tighten their hold on me even more, pulling me even closer despite it not being possible. “Y/N, you can’t lose me. Not over that, not over anything. We all have our demons, you just gotta remember to hold onto me tighter than those demons are holding onto you. You gotta let me help you when you realize you can’t help yourself.” He gently pulls away from me, his hands now coming up to cup my cheeks as he gazes into my eyes, “You gotta learn to see beyond the darkness you surround yourself with. Beyond the darkness, that’s where I’m waiting for you. I’m always gonna be there. I’m a very patient guy, you know.”

I can’t help but laugh, suddenly feeling the bubbly giggles escaping from my chest, pressed out of me by the massive wave of relief that’s washed over my sore insides. Sore from the holding back and now even more so from letting go. But damn does it feel good.

“Looks like I don’t need a plumber but an electrician to fix this light I keep turning off.“ I say, pushing up on my toes to only barely touch my forehead to his. Luckily, he sees what I’m trying to do, so he leans down. “I need him to make it un-turn-off-able.“

Corpse smiles, humming approvingly, “I can help you with that. Starting with...“ and with that he tilts his head, his lips colliding with mine.

I gotta say: damn have I missed this feeling.

@maat-the-prescriptive @simonsbluee @save-the-sky @itsminniekat @hacker-ghost @bi-andready-tocry @imtiredaffff @jazzkaurtheglorious @hereforbeebo @fandomgirl17 @chrysanthykios @maehemscorpyus @loraleiix @letsloveimagines @annshit @i-cant-choose-a-username-help @enigmaticmaze @divine-artemis @waterlilypat @idontknowwhatthisisfam @evi-ka @classyandfabulous00 @redperson58 @lilysdaydreams @solowheein @mythicalamphitrite @axen-gers @luckygirl144 @nj01 @buddyemily @the-albino-lioness @stardream14 @gdhdkfnn @nomadicgypsyy @preciousskye @fluffysuicideunicornsworld @o-kaelin @manacharlotte @awkward-youtube-trash @lolalee24 @bonky-beerns @meme-lord-and-savior-sebastian @strawbrinkofdeath @teenloves @tams0527 @browneyespinkhair @starstruckllamapuppy @daisychains012 @y0ulooked @tinytacosuitcaseflap @supernatural-is-my-only-life @jula-pauline @melodykitty @just-that-bi-girl @crazybutconfidentaf @lowellshade @alphakees @bellero @weallneednamjesus @starryhanji @boiled-onionrings @husherstan @fockingwhore @melaningoddessthings @prettypastelpetals @haleypearce @godwhyamiawkward @y-napotat @daisychainyoonmin @little-miss-rebel3 @free-wheelin-bi-sexual @redmoon261 @darkacademic2 @wiseflamingoqueen @into-the-end @namikhai-i @nastiablr @thelittleplantlover @mirktuan @dont-hyuck @jjk-bunny @vintagegothlover @easygoingtheatre @itsrandombooklover @miiaivi @emmybaybee @befourgolden @jjk-is-my-shit @eternalteaaars @spacebadgerx @princesslunalight @acequinn14 @samm48 @misselsbells06 @simp-lykawa @fo-love @marishimomura-blog @therealglenncoco @cinnamonbun332 @killtherandomness @sanshinexxxsan @fee-btheweeb @press-lay @cathleenpotgieter16 @jazzydoesstuff @moonlxghtbay @forestrain2000 @hyunjinhugs @blood-of-fandoms @lovellylies @ukiyolixx @simpforhpcharacters @chrisdylan17 @parkerjisung @pedernille @theodonyous @wineandionysus @malfoystilinskii05 @morbid-x @coryisagee @jessewa26 @scoobydooluver97 @mindintheskies365 @raeanneinwonderland @indecisive-empanada @gluttonypalace @loriane2503 @btsiguess-kpop @khaoticbunny @lucidlycactus @smiithys @rottenroyalebooks @kpopgirlbtssvt @fangirl-tc27 @fr0z3n-1 @notmesimpingfortechno @shotarosleftpinky @kunoi-chan @idk-whats-wrong-with-me @yikeroonie @goldenstarofthunderclan @poetry-and-tea @ama-do-writing-stuff @wishbonewolf @emeraldxhope @t0xick1tty @kusuinko @speakyourselfloveyourself @sophia902103 @lo-manburg @classsykittykat @dmgama @depressedpuppythatneedscoffee @btsiguess-kpop @akaashi-baby @gun-jong-simp @geschichtenfee @yerapotato-wp @browneyedgirl365 @thysagclub @sparklycloudnight @helloatomicshadow @queentorresstuff @vtte @val-gal @lucy-bunny17 @aaliyahh0 @katluckybear @boyleanti @straybids @franchesca-791 @cosmicstorm19 @averyisbackinthetrashcan @aomi-nabi @xlanawriter @allensimpsforcorpse

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that-gt-and-vore-stuffs · 3 years ago

Text

Experiment 05SB

Alternatively titled “I’m sorry 2B don’t hate me please”

I hath given in to the M4dc0m brain rot at the cost of me now having written a 7k+ word fic because I’m not confident enough in my art skills to draw it at the moment. Here we go!

Oh, there’s also implied fatal in this (it’s of unnamed characters, plus this is M4dc0m, but I’ve gotta say it. I guess you could take it as reformation if you really wanted to.). Mentions of blood I guess?

As always, Vore under the cut :)

“Ey 2b? You there?” Deimos’s voice crackled to life through the plastic earpiece currently jammed into his left ear, yanking the hacker and unofficial ‘team medic’ as he was called once (much to his own confusion. Sure, he knew basic medical but by no means was he any sort of doctor) back into reality. A brief moment passed in the silence of his room, more often called ‘the lab’, of their base before everything came crashing back at once. Deimos, Sanford, and Hank were out raiding a A.A.H.W warehouse at his instruction. Meaning he was alone in their base, also known as a breaking down appartement they had taken shelter in. It had electricity and provided shelter from the harsh hell scape that had once been the state of Nevada. A dark red sunless sky overhead, vegetation and any ecosystems completely wiped out from what they’d seen, bandits and zeds equally ready to eat the nearest person if it meant living another day, the Agency hunting you down if they thought you’d possibly be working against them or with the infamous Hank J. Wimbleton, and having little to no essential resources for days at a time to top it all off like some twisted cherry on this sick cake. Home sweet fucking home.

“Doc? Helllloooo?” Shit, right. Deimos.

“Sorry, I’m here. What is it Deimos?”

“And the medic lives!” The small cheer was accompanied by laughter from the smallest member of the team. Jebus, how was he able to joke in even the most dire situations?

“Just get to the point, chucklehead.” 2b could hear Sanford add in over the static, the man’s laughter just barely making it to tired ears.

“Right right, sorry man. Anyway, if we wanted to get food on the way back would you say no?” Pardon? There was no way he was hearing that right. There were several reasons why he couldn’t be hearing that right. A. food wasn’t by any means the easiest thing to come by in this hellhole, B. restaurants weren’t really a common thing anymore so those were out of the picture, and C. there’s no way they could p- actually, scratch that last one. Robbing a corpse wouldn’t be the weirdest thing that those three had done. Not by a long shot. Still though, how was he supposed to respond to that request?

“…what?” Apparently by asking the first word on his mind.

“We saw that one hotdog vendor on the way here and we’re all starving. Can we or can we not get hotdogs on the way back?” Oh. That’s what Deimos ment. How on earth had that hotdog vendor not been killed yet?

“Is this a genuine ‘we’ or is it a ‘me’, Deimos?” That seemed like a more fair and answerable question.

“Hey I-!”

“It’s a genuine ‘we’ Doc,” Sanford’s voice chimed in. By the cursing in the background 2b could imagine that he had flipped up Deimos’s mic to temporarily mute him in the realm of their earpieces. “Pretty sure one of our stomachs gave us away to the last group of agents we had to take out. Not gonna point fingers but I’m pretty sure it was Hank- Ack! I’m just saying!”

“Thought we weren’t pointing fingers.” There was the third voice. Rough from years of fighting yet still all too recognizable as Hank. The same Hank J. Wimbleton on the wanted posters that scattered the walls of almost every nearby building, wanted dead by the Auditor and his whole agency. He must’ve smacked Sanford for his comment. Well at least he didn’t do worse, whether on purpose or accident.

“We aren’t. Now Cmon Doc, you never answered my question.” Hearing the other hacker’s voice ask for an answer again 2b sighed. Always eager, wasn’t he? How the man had seemingly endless energy on missions would forever remain a mystery to him, Jebus be damned.

“I don’t really care what you do on the way back so long as you all come back in one piece and with the stuff I sent you there for. Understood?”

“Aye aye, Captain Doc! Over and out!” And there they went. The earpiece went dead, leaving 2b on his own once again once he flicked up his own mic. Back to silence. Sweet sweet silence. It wasn’t often they got that in their shared apartment of a base. Someone was always awake, someone was always saying something. It was never really quiet unless you were lucky enough to be the only one awake. 2BDamned had seen plenty of those rare times, if only because he overworked himself and didn’t sleep. So maybe it was one of his less than desirable qualities, when living in a hellscape being ten steps ahead of the agency trying to kill you is always good. He had to keep that up, on top of keeping the others alive and well.

And then there was his little experiment. That also was taking a toll on how little he slept. Not all that long ago the trio had returned from a mission with the data he had requested and more. Specifically a duffel bag full of seemingly shrunken grunts and two only slightly bigger shrunken MAGs. Pft, how funny it was to say that. A shrunken MAG. Hell, he wouldn’t believe it if you told him with no proof. The idea seemed insane. Oh but it wasn't. Not by a long shot if the cages sitting on one of his tables said anything. Normally he’d call such a thing like keeping people in cages inhumane, not that there were many humane things in this hellhole to begin with. He’d expect keeping them in cages that probably used to be for pets to be a move pulled by the Agency, not himself, however he had to make do with what they could find and had access to. Also known as: not much at all. He wanted to study them after all. Letting them free was just not an option.

Now that probably sounds bad, studying living beings like himself, but one couldn’t blame 2b when you considered his situation (at least he hopes one couldn’t). Somehow the Agency found a way to shrink living beings. That’s power that could be used against him and the others to make everything turn for the worst, something which he wanted to avoid at all costs. However, if one of his teammates or himself were to be shrunken on a mission it would be possibly lifesaving to know how to reverse the effects. Plus, having the power to shrink enemies on their side could certainly prove useful. All that being said, he needed these few alive in order to try and figure out what caused them to be how they were. Hence the repurposed, beat up pet cages. Two of them to be exact. One held the grunts and the other for the two MAG agents. None of them had killed each other yet, so that was nice. A few simple experiments and a dissection of a grunt that had been dead upon arrival to him proved that they still functioned as they would if they were their normal size. Just on a smaller scale. He had sent Hank, Deimos, and Sanford out for supplies today, yes, though if they found any information regarding the shrinking of their little ‘guests’ then they were to bring it to him. With no information on that though, he had to continue his other work. Tired eyes met the screen through red goggles. Moments later his head found itself cushioned in the crook of one of his arms.

“What the hell.” 2b grumbled, a fresh headache slowly starting to pound against the inside of his skull. What the hell was up with him? He should be fine. This was only his second day without proper ‘longer-then-15-minutes’ sleep. He’d gone longer before, he should be able to function. Why was the screen giving him such a headache now of all times? He needed to get stuff done. He needed to finish up this…this……what was he working on again? Hold on, no, he should remember. This shouldn’t be slipping his mind like it is. Maybe if he just thought back a few minutes. It would come back to him, right?

“Ok right before Deimos called, what was I doing?” 2b thought out loud to himself, trying his hardest to recall what had happened prior to the call from his allies. ”I was sitting here…then Deimos called in. Wait, no. Go back. From the top. Since…however long ago I’ve been sitting here, working on…what was I working on before Deimos asked about getting food? I sent them on the raid, didn’t eat, got to work and- no. That’s not it. Why can’t I just-“

Gggnnnnnnrrrr…

Oh well fuck him. That’s why he couldn’t focus. 2b groaned, not bothering to hide the noise as of now. He was alone, no one would hear him or tease him. Unless you would count the shrunken men in the cages, however it wasn’t likely they’d say anything. When you’re the size of a rat, spare the MAGs who were more rabbit sized, to your captor pissing them off seemed like the worst thing one could do. Clearly the hacker wasn’t at all in the mood to deal with teasing, so their mouths remained shut. That left 2b alone to deal with his complaining stomach, a feat which proved easier said than done when one was going off a day and a half without properly sleeping. He couldn’t even remember the last time he ate something. It was all just fuzzing together at this point.

Pushing himself off his desk 2b flopped back into the worn chair he’d been sitting in for God knows how long. Relaxing into the backrest was certainly more comfortable than being hunched over a laptop screen typing away like he had been for the past day or two. A hand fell to rest over his stomach while the other removed his goggles. Those were not helping the blooming headache. A low growl from his stomach drew a small hiss through his teeth, the sound being accompanied by a familiar empty cramping.

“Oh you can shut up.” He grumbled at the organ half heartedly, “It’s not like I can eat anything right now. There’s a reason I sent Hank and the others out.” His stomach growled back, the empty sound ringing in the hacker’s ears. He needed to eat, that was undeniable. The problem was getting something to eat. He had few options, none of which he particularly liked. Option 1. going out to look for something even slightly edible on his own, option 2. wait and hope the others found and brought back food, or option 3. contact the others through his headset and ask them to get him something on the way back. The first option was clearly undesirable on its own and the other two weren’t much better. Sure, asking them to grab something for him would probably be easiest and most logical, however he was almost certain that they didn’t want to hear that out of the blue in the middle of a fight. That and he didn’t want to deal with any teasing that might come along with asking. He wasn’t about to take that chance when he had things to do. He couldn’t remember those things at the moment, sure, but they were still things he had to do! So asking was not an available option at the moment. That left waiting and hoping for the best.

Rrrrrrrnnngggggg….

“I know. I don’t like the idea either.” 2b sighed as he spun around in his chair, gently patting his stomach. He needed to get out of his chair, even if it was just a walk around his room. He needed something after a day and a half straight of sitting there hunched over staring at a screen. Maybe it’d help with the headache if he was lucky. Probably wouldn’t but hey a man could dream. With a small grunt of effort the hacker found himself on his feet, his balance wobbling and legs feeling like brittle pasta beneath him. Ah, that's what I wanted to do earlier. Go figure taking breaks gets ignored by my brain. “However, I do believe it’ll end with the best result. I’m sure they’ll be home soon anyway.”

They wouldn’t. That was a lie, to himself and to his stomach alike. He likely had a few more hours alone, maybe two at least. The A.A.H.W warehouse he’d sent them to was big and if you account for fighting delays and them stopping on the way back then the chance of them being back in the next two hours would be some sort of miracle. By the way his stomach reacted every time he brushed over the thought that the trio was getting food on the way back then he wasn’t going to be looking so hot by the time they arrived back. Oh he was going to get the short end of the stick no matter what he did, wasn’t he? Talk about luck. 2b sighed, running a hand up and through his hair as he walked along one of the walls of his small room. His stomach clearly wasn’t shutting up any time soon so the next best course of action would be to ignore it. Maybe that would help him wait it out. What could he focus on? There was work, he could clean up a little bit maybe, or he could focus on the rattling coming from the cages and-

Hold on.

That most certainly wasn’t right. 2b cocked an eyebrow, crossing the room to where the three cages were placed. Quite the interesting scene was playing out before him. From what he could see a few of the shrunken grunts were teaming up to try and break out of the cages. This wasn’t their first little escape attempt, no, but it interested him enough as he stood there watching and attempting to grab his tablet at the same time. Eventually he had succeeded, opening up a new document to scribble down a few notes.

Title: Log 073SB

Time: 6:34 pm, xx/xx/xx

Author: 2BDamned

Note: Grunts working together to attempt escape. MAG agent seems to be attempting to cause a distraction by rattling the wall of the cage. Or perhaps they just want out. Very annoying either way. None seem bothered by my presence.

Satisfied with his little note, 2b closed the tablet and set it down on the counter next to one of the cages. Whether it was him being too rough with setting the tablet down or the low grumble from his stomach that startled the cage of grunts was up for debate, but currently he couldn’t find it in himself to care. Right now he needed to have a chat with the little troublemakers. Without hesitation the unofficial medic reached forward, opening the little hinged door located on top of the cage with ease compared to what the grunts inside were attempting before. He didn’t think twice before he reached in and grabbed the two topmost grunts from the pile of attempted escapees before retracting his hand, repeating the process with his other hand, and finally closing the cage. Hands now full, each holding two fighting bodies, the hacker sighed.

“Escape huh? How many times have you already tried that and it didn’t work?” 2b asked, a less than impressed tone lacing his voice. Sure, he needed a distraction from his stomach but he didn’t want to have to deal with escape attempts left and right for the next however long. “What made you think it’d go any different this time?”

There was a moment of silence before a soft voice spoke up, one that clearly hadn’t been used recently. One of the grunts in his left hand. “W-we figured i-if we actually tried and w-worked together then maybe we’d b-be able to manage a successful…e-escape…”

“Really now? Interesting.” 2b mumbled, looking over the grunt in his hand. They were all so small. You’d think he’d have gotten used to their size by now but every time he held one it seemed to slap him in the face. Offing them if they got too rowdy wouldn’t be hard at all. Wouldn’t need to use anything to begin with. How crazy it was. “Though I’m not sure I can let this slide as I have with previous instances.”

“W-what?” His response seemed to temporarily stun the four in his hands, most likely because of how it was different from his previous comments on their attempted escapes. A shiver passed over them like a wave while the hacker only nodded.

“Your previous attempts at escape. While I can understand why one would try I’ve made it quite clear that successful escapes won’t be happening nor tolerated, correct? I need to prove my point here because you all clearly don’t understand words.” He shifted on his feet slightly, a new question wracking his brain. What could he do to show he wasn’t going to deal with constant escape attempts? It had to be something that stuck, seeing as they clearly didn’t understand his earlier comments about escape not being tolerated. Only a few moments of silence passed before his lips were moving again. “You four are going somewhere else. A stronger holding space. If any of the others try anything they’ll join you. Simple, yet effective.” Or it would be if he knew exactly where he planned to stick these four. What did he have that could serve as a stronger cell for them? The cages were already pretty secure in terms of what he could work with. He just needed something stronger, close to him, hard to escape, and threatening that held a sense of danger with it. But what could that be? His eyes darted around the makeshift lab, trying to find something.

Grrrrroowwwllll…

2b’s eyes slowly scanned down from his shaking captives to his stomach. For a moment he just stared, eyes lacking any readable emotion. Well now that was certainly an option. It fit his criteria. Almost too well. Strong, hard to escape, close to him, and it held a sense of danger. Under his mask his torn and scared lips quirked up into a little smirk. “Mmhm. That’ll do quite nicely, in fact~”

The final moments of peace were shattered as the meaning of his words collided with his captives like a well aimed punch to the gut. Hearts sunk to their feet like rocks in water, despair rearing it’s head in their struggles. Those fortunate enough to remain in the cages simply watched with a muted horror as the four bodies were tossed onto the table and held down with little to no effort. The hacker wasted no time removing the mask and bandages that usually covered his mouth, tossing the fabrics haphazardly beside his discarded tablet. Despite the word fresh being the last thing he’d use to describe the Nevada air, 2b knew he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t nice to just breathe the air in alone and not through the layers of fabric like he often did. With the temporary roadblock now gone his eyes drifted downward to the bodies pinned beneath his hand.

“Well, I believe that eliminates any preventable issues we could encounter here.” He hummed softly, plucking the grunt who was covered by his hand the least up into the air. It certainly was odd to watch the little body squirm and fight against him, all attacks on the two fingers holding it proving futile. Their only hope seemed to be 2b letting them go, something which proved less and less likely the longer they studied the look in the hackers eyes. It wasn’t a look one ever wanted to find themself on the receiving end of. The sight of sharp teeth, glimmering with saliva through grinning lips, certainly did not help to lower the grunt’s heart rate at all. 2b simply clicked his tongue. “Meaning stalling time is up. Stay still, won’t you?”

The grunt did not, in fact, stay still. It was impossible to do so as far as they knew when you had a spit soaked tongue dragging up every inch of your front, sharp daggers of teeth only millimeters from their face. A deafening silence washed over the others, only being broken by a small pleased hum from their normal sized captor.

“Not bad…” the man mumbled, dragging his tongue up the squirming grunt yet again. A small voice in the back of his mind, his voice of reason, yelled out the obvious loud and clear to him plenty of times: this was wrong. It wasn’t right to be doing what he was about to do. This was stooping down to the bandits level, something he never intended to do unless absolutely necessary. He shouldn’t be enjoying the taste of another living being like this. And yet…here he was. Ignoring any logic and reason in his mind to proceed with this. Thank goodness he was alone. 2b didn’t even want to think about what the others might say if they were to see him how he was now. Shaking his head softly he shoved away the thought, opening his jaw as far as the joint and scarred tissue that made up his cheeks would allow. He wasn’t sure whether to be impressed or concerned with how easily the small body slipped into his mouth.

Despite their best efforts to squirm free of their new confinement, the slippery surroundings of the unofficial doctor’s maw proved to have horrible traction. Saliva dropped onto the unfortunate grunt’s head from above while they desperately tried to crawl out of the dark cavern. Feet scrambled on the soaked surface of their predator’s tongue as the muscle moved and flipped them around as if they were some piece of candy, all while their hands desperately tried to keep as little of them between the axe like teeth. One bite and they were done for, a terrifying thought. Through it all only three sounds were ever heard from those lucky enough to not be in the current grunt’s position. The sickening sounds of soaked struggle, terrified yelps from the grunt stuck within 2b’s jaws, and the occasional hum from the man himself. The torture, as those watching from the cage would describe it, seemed to continue for hours and hours on end.

Glk

Glp~

Until it all stopped with two simple swallows and a collective gasp of horror from those watching. The relaxed posture of the man they all watched failed to help their situation.

“H….huhh…that was..” the uncertified medic breathed, breaking the silence. His free hand lazily felt down his throat, tracing where he could feel the squirming body slip further down by the second. It didn’t take a genius to decipher that the less angry sounding gurgle from the man’s stomach signaled the end of the unfortunate grunt’s descent. With eyes widened just beyond his natural look 2b gently pressed his stomach. How interesting it was, as morbid as it might sound, to feel something squirming around inside the organ. Before he could even stop to consider a better way to word his thoughts, he finished his sentence. Just not in the way the grunts wanted to hear. “…incredibly easy.”

The last thing any of the remaining grunts wanted to see was those eyes scan up slowly before locking on them as if they were some sort of dessert. The clearly out of place smile on the man’s face didn’t help the feeling of impending doom either. If anything it only made it worse as a rough hand plucked another grunt from the selected three that had remained under his hand. Down, beneath his newfound curiosity and odd urge to continue what he was doing, 2b knew he should have been more concerned about how easy this was coming to him. No sane person would take so calmly to swallowing living beings, especially not of his own kind. Yet here he was, smirking as he licked over his scarred lips with cold eyes locked onto the small shaking body like a cat would after spotting a mouse. Looking at their sizes in comparison to one another? The simile was scarily accurate. Through his whole little mental debate the hacker found it all too easy to slip the small body into his mouth, licking it over to draw out as much of that strangely addicting taste before slowly beginning to nudge it back. Just bit by bit until it was far enough.

Glrk

Grk~

“Two down…haahhh…two to go…” the hacker sighed as he traced the lump down his throat. There was a waiting period once more but it didn’t last long before the shiver inducing gurgle signified where the poor soul had ended up. How the man hadn’t gotten sick yet was beyond the understanding of those who witnessed the event and even the man himself. Surely he should feel at least a little nauseous with two rat sized bodies squirming within his stomach. Nausea and fullness were the two sensations he had expected by now and yet neither had shown their face yet. Deep within his mind, from an area he didn’t even know existed until it spoke, a voice urged him to test his limits. 2b had shaken that idea off nearly immediately. As….enticing as that idea was, he still needed a few of the shrunken grunts alive and well to continue his attempts to recreate and reverse however the Agency had shrunken them before. Four however….well that wasn’t the biggest loss in the world if something happened to go wrong. Leaning a little more heavily over the table he grabbed one of the last two grunts, shoving the struggling body into his mouth head first. Quite the sight it was to watch flailing legs be slurped into someone’s mouth like nothing more than wet noodles. Interesting and horrifying.

Glp

Glrk~

Though compared to seeing someone who had been beside you ten minutes ago disappear down your captor’s throat as nothing more than a barely visible lump would top it in the scarring scale. Nothing could compare to that sight. Good god was it terrifying. The reality that escape was impossible was all but cemented into the remaining grunts' brains now, as that had been what had gotten their companions into this situation in the first place. This was happening because their capturer wanted to prove his point that attempted escape would not be tolerated. At this point they were convinced they’d have to have a death wish to attempt escape now. Especially when their conditions weren’t horrible compared to what they could be in, something which hadn’t crossed their minds till now. Now don’t take their words wrong, by no means did they want to stay here. Especially not now. However, if it meant living another day and not ending up as lunch? Staying definitely was the preferable option.

“One to go. Damn.” The hacker's voice snapped all attention back to him. His position had changed, now leaning back on the table as he looked over the struggling form in his hands. The words seemed to flow from his mouth without too much thought needed behind them. They just felt…right. It was a feeling he never expected to experience in such a context that he was now, much less to have it almost piloting him as it felt now, but he was nearly willing to say he welcomed it. He wasn't well acquainted with the idea of eating living beings after all, so the subconscious help to ease the process along wasn’t something he’d push away. Not unless it were to cause an issue that is. However, nothing of the sort had happened yet, meaning he was going to keep letting his actions flow naturally.

Just as he had with the three before this one, 2b wasted little time starting towards his goal. Raising the grunt just above his head the man dangled the flailing body over his open mouth, a sight that he could assume would terrify anyone in the grunt’s position. All went smoothly as he lowered the small body in. That is until the grunt, having seen an opportunity and taken it, grabbed and yanked down his mic. While he tried to react as quickly as possible, he could only pray the microphone had not managed to pick up the gag he’d made after panic and shock had caused him to jolt forward and send the grunt to the back of his throat. He flipped up the mic as fast as he could, trying to determine the best course of action one could take with a squirming body halfway down their throat and a possibility of having just been ratted out to the others by their lunch. He was screwed were they to find out, what with how at least two of the three always seemed to be looking for teasing ammunition. That and this….well this wasn’t exactly normal, you know.

“Doc? Is everything ok over there?” Fuck. That wasn’t good. Ignoring the sinking feeling of dread in his chest the best he could, 2b took a deep breath and forced the fourth grunt down with a swallow that took a little more effort then he felt it should’ve. Flipping down the mic, he answered.

“Damnit- yes. I'm fine, Sanford. Don’t worry.” The sentence had to be his least convincing lie yet. Between his heavy breathing and dryness in his throat he could tell his voice wasn’t helping him in any way. Now he didn’t take his teammates for idiots, despite how it sure seemed like they were sometimes, but in the moment he found himself wishing they were.

“You sure? You don’t sound all that fine. Did something happen back at base?” The worry beginning to lace the man’s voice through the static filled earpiece only served to worsen the feeling of dread in 2b’s chest. He needed to get Sanford, and the others who were no doubt listening, off the idea something had happened. He needed to deal with the whole I-just-swallowed-four-people-alive thing before they came back, so them returning early was not in the plan.

“No, nothing happened.” He shot back, only realizing the speed in his voice wasn’t too reassuring after he said it. Ok, what was a believable excuse for why he sounded like he did? “I just…spilt coffee on my legs after burning my mouth. Must’ve knocked the mic down in the process.” With a hand to his chest the hacker forced a soft swallow, trying to at least get rid of the uncomfortable dryness that had settled in the back of his throat. Please say they believed that.

“Pft, really? Damn, wish I could’ve seen that. Think you looked like one of those old cartoons, Doc?” Phew, crisis averted.

“Real funny, Deimos. Get back to your mission.” 2b shook his head at the comment. At least they seemed to believe him. It was worth it, even if the mental image of those over exaggerated cartoon characters was now going to show up whenever he even slightly burnt his mouth on coffee. Oh well, some sacrifices must be made.

“Alright alright. We’re going.” The man on the other end laughed. Those idiots. Damn his heart caring for them, now he was attached. “See you when we get back. Over and out, Doc!” And there they went.

Fighting off his own soft laughter, 2b flipped up his mic. A soft sigh escaped him before he could even think to stop it. That could’ve been horrible. While one hand softly rubbed at his neck, sore from what he had to guess was the miniature disaster that just took place, the other gently laid itself over his stomach. The four inside never seemed to stop moving, constantly squirming and slipping about. There were a handful of reasons he could assume was the cause, though the most likely was that being shoved into a soaking wet moving sack with three of your colleagues provided little traction or ability to get comfortable. That and panic. Panic was probably a rather big factor in how they were feeling. 2b, on the other hand, had to be feeling the exact opposite of how they were. The warm weight of his four ‘victims’ was a welcome sensation within the previously empty pit of his stomach. As twisted as he knew it sounded, he would’ve been confident saying that what he was feeling was honestly satisfactory. Why having living beings stretch and actually round out his stomach in a barely noticeable way was causing this feeling was a mystery to him, but at the moment he couldn’t find it in himself to care. Not when it felt this nice.

“I hope I’ve made my point clear.” The unofficial medic hummed, looking over to the grunt filled cage. They had backed away from him by now, huddled in the back most corner of their confines. The sight drew a genuine laugh from the man they all seemed to fear ten times more than before. Well that was proof if he’d ever seen it. Looks like their escape wasn’t something he had to worry about any more. So maybe he sacrificed a little of his ‘I’m not going to hurt you’ act for this. It was worth it in his eyes. And besides, he was probably the most gentle with them out of his whole little gang. If they wanted to be left with one of the others then go ahead. Although being left with the mercenary who you were created to kill didn’t sound like the most fun time to him. Smirking, he collected his goggles, mask, and tablet from the table. “It seems I have. Glad we could have this little -hic!- chat. Heh.”

He gave the cage a pat, the rattling of the metal only serving to scare the grunts further back in the ball of bodies they’d curled into, before turning to walk back to his desk. He needed to sit down. Standing apparently became a lot harder when you had four people fighting against your insides. Thinking back, he didn’t know what he would have expected. Did he stumble a little bit trying to get back to his desk? Yes, he did. It was like he forgot how to walk in all honesty. Another reason he was glad he was alone in their base. Like most things though it proved worth it when he finally collapsed into the worn chair he used for work. Without thinking twice he opened his tablet and started a new log.

—————————

“Doc! We’re back!” The call rang out through the appartement, followed by three sets of footsteps marching their way in and the door slamming shut perhaps a little stronger than needed. As the hinges of the door stopped rattling the three expected to hear a displeased groan, followed by the ruffled form of 2b appearing in the hallway to scold them for being so aggressive or something like tracking blood into the base. Honestly, why he still bothered was a mystery to them, at least Sanford and Deimos for they had zero clue what went on in Hank’s head, for the most part. They were mercenaries, fighters, people looking to not end up with their brains splattered on the wall or something worse. They were going to be bloody upon returning, even if that blood wasn’t their own. It wasn’t like their floors were carpet or anything either. In the end though they never bothered to fight the scoldings. No use making the unofficial medic mad, especially if they needed help. The lack of disgruntled medic in the hallway or at least yelling when silence returned to the room was worrying. After a minute or two with nothing spoken and no ruffled hacker to be seen, Deimos tried again to call him.

“2b?” He called out, peering down the hallway which led to their rooms. There wasn’t any blood on the walls, a good sign to start, and no bullet holes that weren’t there before. Unless the Agency suddenly learned how to do stealth missions, something he and he knew the other two were hoping wasn’t the case, he had hopes. Again, no response from the man. Gun still in his hand he took one glance back to the others, a silent ‘follow me’, before continuing down the hallway. Although Deimos had made it to the closed door first he’d been pushed past by the red goggle wearing giant as he reached for the doorknob. Hank had been the one to open the door to 2b’s room. He’d also been the first of the trio to feel the tension in his shoulders drop. It wasn’t long after he had relaxed that he was shoved into the room by two bodies trying to get in and see any damage that could’ve been done while they were gone. The sight of 2BDamned softly snoring away in his chair, nothing in the room seeming out of place, was most certainly a welcome one.

“Ah. So that’s why he isn’t barking us up a tree for your entrance, Dei.” Sanford hummed with a laugh, careful to watch his volume. If there was one thing he didn’t want to deal with after their mission it was a cranky Doc who got woken up by them. It wasn’t a secret he didn’t necessarily sleep after all and there was no way he could survive off coffee like he seemed to silently claim he could sometimes. They all had times when their sleep schedules were fucked.

“Oh shut up, ‘Ford.” Deimos shot back with a playful punch to the man’s bicep. “It’s not like I’m the one who slammed the door. That’s what he would’ve been on our asses about.”

“You slammed it open then yelled loud enough for all of Nevada to hear you. Don’t act like you’re innocent!”

As the two’s words morphed into friendly bickering Hank took it upon himself to deliver the bit of what they got that couldn’t stay in the duffle bag slung over his shoulder at the moment. Buried in the pocket of his jacket was a small object. Something he hadn’t expected to find, but had snagged nonetheless when it had been pointed out by Deimos. For a second as he walked over to the man a rough hand dug around fabric, fingers gripping plastic as he arrived at his destination. Without thinking he tossed the USB onto the hacker’s desk, eyes wandering over small things like the empty coffee mug or discarded goggles. Behind red-tinted goggles they landed on the man’s tablet, the screen now illuminated thanks to what he could assume had been the small drive hitting the desk. Prying wasn’t something he often did when it came to his teammates, respecting their privacy as they often did his, but after a certain word caught his eye he couldn’t help but read the log that had popped up.

Title: Experiment 05SB

Time: 7:42 pm, xx/xx/xx

Author: 2BDamned

Note: I…cannot believe I’m about to write this. This is update one of Experiment 05SB, an experiment started without much if any bit of a proper plan behind it. Phase I, I suppose you could call it, was a success. The shrunken grunts are, in fact, small enough to swallow whole and…alive. MAGs have not yet been confirmed to be the same way, though I’m sure that answer will show itself one day. I am unsure why I am able to keep four of them down without feeling nauseated, but I can. I will update at a later time when more information has presented itself.

The log ended there, eyes falling away from the screen as Hank’s mind worked to process the information it had just been given. According to what had been written before the man had fallen victim to sleep, it was not only possible to swallow the shrunken beings sitting in one of the cages behind him, but the unofficial doctor had done it himself. Four times to be exact. Curiosity grabbed control of his eyes, slowly panning them up to the cage of grunts who looked noticeably more terrified than they usually did. Had they seen the whole thing go down? His mind continued to wander, finding new questions like how on earth the hacker had managed to keep living and no doubt moving beings down like the log said he did. That is unless he’d spit them up before falling asleep. However that seemed highly unlikely-

“Snooping around Doc’s stuff, are we Hank~?” When Deimos had appeared behind him was beyond the mercenary, though the shock of hearing his voice out of the blue was enough to startle him into quickly powering off 2b’s tablet and whipping around to face the two that now stood across with him with far too smug looks on their faces for his liking.

“Woah there, big guy! We didn’t mean any trouble.” Sanford cooed, the fucking Chad cooed, holding his hands up as if he was under some sort of arrest. “Just wanted to know what you were reading over here is all~.”

“Yeah, exactly. I never expected to find you clicking through Doc’s diary.” Deimos added on nearly flawlessly. Sometimes he really hated how well they worked together. Namely when it was against him. “So, was it a love confession~?”

Hank sighed, glaring at the two through his goggles. He sure fucking hoped they could see the look on his face, despite most of it being covered by bandages and his mask. Because he was not amused and he wanted them to know it.

“No, not a love confession, you morons.” He groaned, shaking his head. Telling them straight off what it said would probably be horrible. At the moment he was still having a few difficulties understanding parts of what he read. Lying just seemed like the best choice overall. It wasn’t like he’d be the only one doing so, after all. It sure seemed like 2b did to them over the mic. Speaking of the man, Hank turned around to take a good look at him. At first glance he seemed like he normally did when he passed out in his chair from overworking himself like this. It was only when Hank took an extra second to look and let the information in his brain guide him did he see the slightly out of place softness around the sleeping hacker’s stomach. Unable to help himself Hank felt his ruined remaining lip quirk up into a small smirk under his mask as he turned around to shove the Dumbass Duo out of the room so 2b could sleep.

“Bunch’a nonsense, is all. Now move. I don’t wanna deal with him if you idiots wake him up and we still have shit to put away.”

#soft vore #mawedness combat #hahaha finally!#I’ve been waiting to use that tag #implied fatal #oopsie #it’s no named character so I guess it’s not bad #I mean this is in the M4dc0m universe so don’t expect my works with these fuckers to be as sunshine as some of my N3ws¡3s ones were #2b I do hope you won’t hate me for this if you can see it

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flames-bring-a-ton-of-ash · 3 years ago

Text

Irresistible Danger - Part 59

Synopsis: After being caught outside the compound on your own, Negan decides to punish you in the best way possible ;)

Words: 4,078

Warnings: nsfw, smut, swearing

ID Masterlist can be found HERE

Masterlist of all my fics can be found HERE

*HIATUS WARNING*

This will be my last chapter update until the end of July or very beginning of August, due to me joining Camp Nano. If people are interested, I can link my nano page HERE if you want to see what progress I make. I haven’t created a Camp project goal yet, but I’ll be adding it soon.

Clearing the Board

You stared at Negan in shock for a long moment, your brain’s frantic whirring grinding to a screeching halt as the subconscious watched with mouth so agape that the gum it had been chewing fell unnoticed to the floor.

Had he been thinking the same questions as you the entire dinner? Part of you wanted to bolt, terrified to know what was on his mind. Was this where he pulled the rug out from under you and said things were getting too cozy, that he wanted to back track? Did he want to go back to his wives? Or maybe he wanted to try and make you into another one of them?

Breathe. Just breathe and see what he has to say, before you start hyperventilating.

Clearing your throat and licking suddenly dry lips, you hoarsely said, “Uh...yeah...we do.”

As if this was the permission he was waiting for, he gave a curt nod and started talking. He was so focused and straight to the point that you wondered if he had rehearsed this prior to you showing up. If so, he had done a much better job of preparing than you had.

“I wanted to apologize for last night. Not just for the way I attacked you, though I do fucking apologize for that, but for how I acted after.”

At this, he paused and ran a hand slowly down over his mouth and beard, and you realized how difficult this conversation was for him, how much he still struggled to be open and honest and sincere with another human when he’d had to learn the hard way to be tough and mean and impenetrable. It made you feel validated regarding your own struggles, as well as grateful that both of you were stepping outside your comfort zones and trying to communicate.

“Doll, there’s just some shit that I don’t like to fucking relive. It has to happen, whether I fucking want it to or not, and once it’s done, it’s done. I don’t always want to rehash events, or talk about how I feel, because the answer is probably that I feel like fucking horse shit. It’s nothing personal against you, it’s just me wanting to fucking move on. The same way you told me the other night that I gotta trust you not to always give me all the fucking details? Well, same goes when the shoe’s on the other fucking foot.”

You sat there and took this in, brain having pulled out a tablet to take frantic notes, and subconscious still staring in shock with its foot unknowingly stepping right in the middle of the dropped gum wad. Of all the ways for tonight’s conversation to go, no part of you had expected Negan to not only take the lead, but go in the correct direction needed to pulverize one of the newly-created questions you had thrown into the padlocked box.

Once he said the words out loud, it did make a lot of sense. You had seen it as wanting to connect with him and support him, if he would just explain what had happened on the run to upset him. However, some things might be better left unsaid, so as not to make the person relive the events and the emotions tied to them. What you had seen as him shutting you down was actually him trying to move on from unsavory events (and actions he’d had to complete in his role as leader). Add to that his comparison to your conversation the other night, where you had expected him to be okay with you not giving all details about certain events, and you couldn’t believe how much you had blown his recent actions out of proportion.

You had been quiet for a few long moments, during which he was watching you closely. He tried to make his expression neutral, but the unnatural stillness of his tensed body and the focused intensity of his hazel gaze gave away how much weight he was putting on what your response might be.

Picking your words carefully, you broke the silence. “Thank you for explaining that, because I did wonder why you turned down my offer to talk last night. I respect your right to not tell me everything about what you have to do in order to keep control of the Sanctuary and other communities. However,” you held his gaze, making sure he saw your sincerity. “I want you to know that I’m always here for when and if you do want to talk about it. Any of it.”

He was unresponsive for a few seconds, as if the tables had turned and now he was the one a bit surprised at how calm and clearly you had voiced your agreement. Then, a soft smile broke across his face, and he said, “I know you are, doll.”

You gave a small smile, beyond relieved to have that topic discussed and out of the way. Your brain was proud of the two of you for talking it out, while the subconscious was preoccupied with cursing and hopping around on one foot while frantically trying to use a stick to scrape the smeared gum off the bottom of its shoe. Like it, you now flailed about for how to move on to other concerns. The door of communication had been opened, and you didn’t want him to slam it shut now that the thing he’d wanted to get off his chest was done.

“There’s some other things I think we need to talk about,” you said. When his eyebrows raised in a nonverbal for you to continue, you started nervously fidgeting with your dinner napkin.

Shit, where did you even start? How to accurately say what you were thinking and feeling about this relationship with him. He had obviously noticed you pulling back that day in the woods, and while you had been quick to start blurting your feelings when in a post-orgasmic haze, the words now stuck in your throat and refused to come out.

That ball of self-doubt was creeping in, telling you to shut the box back up and get out of there. It whispered how maybe now that Negan had fucked you, the “game” was almost over and he wouldn’t be as interested. That the moment you started placing expectations on the two of you, he’d tell you to leave his rooms and not come back.

Looking down at the napkin, which was now twisted and crumpled from anxious hands, you tossed it down on the table and abruptly stood up, unable to continue the farce of sitting still. You pushed the chair into the table and stood there for a few seconds before giving a frustrated groan and pacing over to his armoire and back.

It was quite the role reversal, you pacing back and forth while he sat there, silently watching. Your hands gestured wildly in front of you, as if trying to act out what you couldn’t say. You started to talk a few times, but it came out as a sputter of nothingness, causing you to pace back and forth yet again. After a couple rounds of this, you finally stopped behind the dinner chair, hands gripping the back of it until your knuckles turned white. The two of you stared at one another, his forehead furrowed in concern at your mini meltdown.

“Doll,” he said, voice low and calming. “Tell me.”

Just say it. Tell him you’ve fallen for him.

But you couldn’t. The emotions were right there, but it didn’t feel right to just blurt them out. Three little words that some people tossed around like pennies, and you couldn’t say them when it mattered.

You looked at him desperately, willing him to throw a lifeline and take back over the conversation, to tell you to forget it and act like this moment had never happened. Instead, he finally moved into action, standing from his own chair and rounding the small table to stand in front of you.

He didn’t reach out, didn’t try to hold you, as if he knew that the slightest touch would cause your taut as a bowstring form to burst into a million pieces. His hands instead clenched at his sides in a nonverbal show of restraint. He knew that whatever you were struggling with was important, while at the same time realizing he couldn’t force it, and that the direction of the conversation depended entirely on you.

“Tell me what’s wrong.”

There was more authority to his tone this time, but it was the slight hint of worry making it go up in pitch at the end that propelled your own voice to finally get its shit together and start working.

“There’s nothing wrong, I just…I don’t know how to say it.”

“Fucking say what? You’re killing me here, doll.”

You looked at him, took in this strong and seemingly impenetrable, yet surprisingly caring and passionate man who had shattered all of the emotional defenses you had strategically built in order to keep yourself safe. And suddenly, you knew exactly how to tell him in a way that he, and only he, would understand.

“Remember when you said that the game is over when the king is captured?”

Surprise flickered in his gaze, as he obviously wasn’t expecting that to come out of your mouth. However, he quickly caught up, giving a curt nod.

“I know technically the queen is expendable, and the game can continue on without her, but-” voice cracking a bit, you paused to take a deep breath before continuing. “What the hell does one do when the opposite happens?”

You saw the moment the realization hit, making him go completely still. Saw the moment he pieced everything together but still held back, as if afraid maybe he was misinterpreting it.

His face looked wrecked when he husked, “What are you saying, doll?”

Emotion welled in your eyes as you verbally let go, whispering the confession that had been held in for long enough.

“The king’s captured me.”

He broke the physical distance then, his eyes bright with emotion as he wrapped one arm around your waist and cupped your face with a warm palm. Leaning down, he placed a kiss on your lips that was so soft and gentle you almost wanted to cry. When he lifted his head, you felt overwhelmed by the adoration in his gaze, but that was nothing compared to the words he then spoke.

“Well doll, I’d say that’s only fucking fair, since the queen’s captured me too.”

Shock coursed through you, followed by a rush of emotion so strong it would’ve knocked you on your ass if he wasn’t there to clutch onto.

He feels the same! Holy fuck, not only did he understand, but he also feels the same!

The two of you kissed again, long and slow, until your surroundings faded away and there was only him. It could’ve been mere moments or long minutes before your lips parted from his, as time currently had no meaning outside the count of his breaths on your face and beat of his heart under your palm flattened on his chest.

You felt dizzyingly happy, and the padlocked box was tons of pounds lighter. However, there were still a few spiky balls of questions sitting in the bottom of it, and it was time to empty them out. All of them.

“So,” you said, fingers tracing up over his exposed collarbone and strong throat. “What happens next, after the king and queen capture each other?”

Giving a much softer version of his usual devilish smirk, he replied, “They lay down their weapons, recall their fucking armies, and rule the board together.”

Grinning like a fool at that, you wound your arms up around his neck and murmured hesitantly, “So what does that mean for the others? What does the king do with the five of them?”

Once again, the metaphor was not lost on him, and you felt the slightest stiffening of his body against yours as he pulled his lips from where they had been tracing along your ear lobe and looked down at you.

Shit, did you go too far? Maybe you should’ve just stopped while you were ahead and not crossed into that topic of conversation just yet…

“What do you want me to do with them, doll?”

You definitely weren’t expecting that as a response, as shown by your staring blankly up at him for a few seconds before saying, “Isn’t that your choice?”

He gave an amused tsk of disapproval. “No, that’s not how it works when we both rule the board. Each partner gets a say, and then we figure it out together.”

Did he just...call you… “Is that what I am?” you asked, heart inflating like a bubble at the possibility.

“I mean, we can stick with just calling you my queen, if that’s what you want, but I think partner also has a nice fucking ring to it.”

His partner. Not his wife, or girlfriend. Partner.

Stretching up to give him a kiss of approval, you said, “Partner is perfect.”

Deciding to go all in, you added, “And I only want you, no one else. I want you to be the person I snuggle up against each night, and the one whose bed I wake up in each morning knowing that I belong there. I want to walk proudly beside you and know that you’re mine, as much as I’m yours.” You hesitated, a small dart of worry at the brutally honest words making you feel the need to ask, “But what do you want?”

The playful light was back in his eyes, that sinful tongue running over his bottom lip. “I thought I already made that fucking obvious, doll. But if I didn’t, then listen very closely.”

His lips traced over your face, leaving butterfly kisses on your cheeks and nose and forehead as he spoke the words. “I want you. Fucking simple as that. I’ve wanted you, and only you, since the day you fucking kicked my ass at chess.”

This was technically information you already knew, thanks to Trixie, but hearing it from him made it that much more real. It was as if even though all the signs were there, you still didn’t want to fully believe you were the reason for his change in behavior with the wives, not until he confirmed it himself.

Trying to add a bit of lightness, you hummed in pleasure at his lips kissing the sensitive spot on the curve of your neck and quipped, “Who knew all it would take was a game of chess for me to stand out.”

Giving a huffed laugh, he said against your skin, “If you think that’s the only way you fucking stand out, you’re even more oblivious then I fucking thought.”

“Hey! Are you telling me I’m weird or something?” you laughed, playfully tugging at his hair so that he raised his head to look at you.

“Wellllll…” he joked, smiling broadly before his expression got a bit more serious. “In all honesty, doll, I’ve respected the hell out of you since the moment you arrived here.”

Eyebrows raising, you said, “Oh? Do go on.”

His eyes danced with mirth, but his words were uncharacteristically sincere. “Despite being scared shitless when my men first found your little group, you never fully submitted or lost your fight. You marched right into the Sanctuary like you were gonna own the whole fucking place, or at least own the kitchen, which you did in a ridiculously short amount of fucking time, I might add. I felt like a fool for asking you to be another wife and expecting you’d be happy just sitting around looking pretty.”

You gave a haughty grin, but let him continue, knowing that confessions such as this were few and far between with Negan. And you were going to soak in every affectionate word like a desert does the rain, because as much as the actions and nonverbals fed your heart, his words were what now fed your soul.

“I knew you’d be trouble the the first time I walked in the kitchen to check on things and you refused to fucking kneel with the others, staring me down in a way that said you were demanding to be treated at my equal, and just daring me to try and fucking do something about it. It was that same daring each time we were alone that drew me in like fucking catnip, and while the smart thing would’ve been to stay away, when I found you out in the fucking woods about to be walker chow and totally going against my orders, it gave me the perfect opportunity to force you closer. I knew I should stop sending for you, stop finding reasons to visit the kitchen or order you to bring me trays, but damn doll, you were too fucking exciting to walk away from.

“The day you beat me at chess, you were so fucking proud of yourself, and I realized that instead of being pissed, I was proud of you too. I knew I had a spitfire on my hands, and damn if that didn’t make my dick hard.” His voice lowered a bit, so that you held your breath in order not to miss a single word. “But it wasn’t until that first outing together in the woods, when you killed that walker and saved my fucking hide, that I realized I was done for. That I might as well throw down my crown because the king had been captured, and the game was over.”

You thought back to that day, to the kiss and the look in his eyes afterward. Had you known back then? Possibly, but you never would’ve admitted it to yourself, not at that point. You felt a lump start to form in your throat, eyes blinking rapidly in an effort not to tear up. And you would have succeeded, damn it, if not for his next words.

“I tried to fight it, to fight you. Hell I almost got you fucking killed by chasing you out of here, and all because of my own fucking stubborn pride. I’d never hated myself as much as I did in that moment, when we found you lying injured in the fucking woods. I’ve loved and lost, more than any man should, but...the thought of losing you was what almost ruined me.”

Tears trickled down your cheeks in cool rivulets. “Why didn’t you tell me?” you whispered. Hell, if you had known all of this a bit earlier, maybe you wouldn’t have hesitated to talk things out. Wouldn’t have held back as much as you did.

Giving a self-deprecating smile, he said, “Because I’m a fucking idiot. But also because every time I considered it, you’d fucking pull away. I would’ve claimed you publicly as mine weeks ago, but you about had a god damn heart attack anytime there was a chance someone might see us getting fucking cozy together. I could practically hear the fears and doubts whirring around in your head the last few days, so I took the coward’s way out and tried to halt those thoughts by repeatedly fucking you any chance I got, until you were too exhausted to overthink.”

He had meant the words to make you laugh, but instead you suddenly felt overwhelmed. Your stupid eyes wouldn’t stop watering, and if you weren’t careful your nose would start clogging up too. You had always been jealous as hell of women who could cry prettily, because you definitely weren’t one of them.

You tried to school your features, tried to put on at least a thin mask of “I’m fine, totally fine” but more tears followed by a hiccuped sob escaping your lips said otherwise. You unwrapped your arms from his neck in order to press a hand to your mouth in an effort to try and stifle the emotions leaking out.

“No,” he said, stern enough to jolt you out of the overanalyzing spiral your brain wanted to jump down.

Pulling your hand away from your mouth with a gentle but firm grip, he clasped it between his own hands. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?” you asked.

Lifting one hand, he used his thumb to brush away the tear sitting stubbornly on the middle of your cheek. “Don’t do what you did last time. Don’t hide from me again.”

Sighing, you nodded in agreement. “Fine, but it would be nice if one of these times it was you crying and not me.”

Humor was a mask of its own, one both of you used to cover up emotions. However, since you were standing there with red-rimmed eyes and he had just verbally confessed his emotions more in the last few minutes than he probably had during the rest of the apocalypse combined, you both deserved a bit of humor.

“The day that happens, I might as well just chop off my dick and fucking hand that over as well,” he joked back, causing you to smile and shove at him playfully.

Giving an exasperated sigh, you said “I can’t believe I’ve been so dumb about all of this, thinking...well, assuming totally incorrect things. Guess that’s what I get for not trying to just talk it out.”

He gave you a mock-stern expression and said, “Well, then let this be a fucking lesson.” He used two fingers to point at your eyes and then at his own, and back to yours. “Partners, remember.”

God, you loved the way that word rolled off his tongue. It was exactly what you had always secretly hoped to find with a man: an equal partnership. Sure, Negan was still the leader of the Sanctuary and had the role of badass motherfucker to uphold, but at the heart of things you stood on equal ground, and your thoughts and feelings and opinions mattered just as much as his own. Not to mention, you would dare him to deny that you were the leader of the kitchen staff. And hey, there was a lot of power in being the one in charge of making sure the entire community was fed. And the fact that he didn’t want to take any of that away from you, that he was proud of your accomplishments, made you fall for him even more.

“Partners,” you agreed with a nod, running a hand up over his chest. Fingers traced his strong, masculine features before running up into his hair to map the streaks of salt among the pepper.

Eyes brightening with desire, he stared with laser focus down at your mouth, his nostrils flaring as he watched your teeth subconsciously nibble on your lower lip as you took in this handsome man who was yours. All yours. Seeing the intent in his gaze and knowing where this was about to go by the sudden tensing of his muscles for action, you pressed your other hand against his chest lightly and said, “Wait, one more thing. I have a request.”

“Name it,” he said without hesitation.

“Um...this might seem a bit random, but is there any way you could bump Simon up to having a single room?” When Negan looked at you in slight bewilderment, you continued, “That way Ben can visit whenever he wants.”

His brows lowered, and you were afraid he was going to dismiss the issue as not important, so you pressed on. “In all honesty, it was Ben’s insistence that I be honest and talk things out with you that helped push me to say what I did tonight. I kinda owe him.”

The unspoken words were that Negan kinda owed him too, and his scowl said that he heard them loud and clear. With a slight huff, he grumbled, “I’ll see what I can fucking do.”

Giving a wide smile, you stood up on tiptoe and planted a very grateful kiss on his lips, with tongue included. Pulling back a bit, you whispered against his mouth, “I’d love to see what you can fucking do.”

At that, he scooped you up into his arms with a growl and strode into the bedroom, where he then proceeded to spend a good portion of the night showing you just how thoroughly captured the king really was.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Extra Author’s Note: Holy crap, was I nervous af to post this chapter. I feel like so much has been building to this conversation between You and Negan, and I wasn’t sure how readers were going to feel about it. I know some people were expecting more drama and angst, especially since this is about the time that romance novels usually throw in the so-called “third act conflict”. However, I personally find it pretty annoying when that conflict is some form of unneeded miscommunication or lack of communication, followed by the characters being apart for a period of time and then coming back together in one grand gesture before bam, an abrupt ending where you’re to expect them to live happily ever after with no more issues.

Instead, I had You and Negan do that earlier in the fic, with the “Confrontation” chapter where they royally fucked up and had to stumble their way back together, followed later by the pregnancy test argument where they started to fuck up but then both broke their unhealthy fight cycle (You did this by walking away and Negan did it by going after her and deciding to actually listen). And now, with this chapter I wanted to showcase their growth and how they’ve learned enough from past mistakes to move forward. Some people might see this chapter as too fluffy, but I saw it as a way to show two grown ass adults finally laying down their emotional shields and communicating in an open and healthy manner. At this point, I thought Negan and You deserved that, and I hope y’all agree.

Whether you loved it, hated it, didn’t care, all of the above, etc, please feel free to let me know. I’m so so curious to hear what people thought of this chapter, and if what I was hoping to showcase came across in a satisfying way. Thanks for reading! I’ll be back with more updates after Camp Nano! <3

#negan #negan fanfiction #negan fanfics #irresistible danger #the walking dead #negan's thirst squad #ash writes #twd #negan fanfic #negan x you #negan x reader #slow burn #fanfic #fanfiction #twd negan #the walking dead negan #jdm #jeffrey dean morgan

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dabiboy · 4 years ago

Note

could you write a little nsfw dabi fic? I’ve been obsessed with him lately and I KNOW he has a corruption kink 🥵

My most sincere apologies, this one took me forever, I’m so sorry! Here it is the finished piece, hope you like it! 😭

Author's note: Regarding the tag list, I tagged the ones that let me know they're Ok with nsfw things, so if you want to be tagged in these kind of pieces let me know! I didn't tagged the ones I have written for all my works because maybe they can get uncomfortable or similar, so if you're not tagged here please excuse me😅

Corrupt Me [NSFW]

You had it all. A good job, a good position at the job, a nice apartment downtown shared with your boyfriend. He was a good guy, lame but a good one. Things with him were normal, nothing extraordinary. It was a common thing to have him on top of you one night a week, barely pleasing himself, and whenever you wanted to try something there was always the same excuse building like a wall between the two of you, ''I'm tired'' you even tried to get away from that perfect-dreamed-girl image you had and wore a nice set of lingerie, but he didn't care about it. And you ended up spending another night alone in the living room as he was snoring loudly in your bedroom. But that was Ok with you, because it was your life. Your perfect little life. Why should you ask for something else when you had everything?

But then, it happened.

You went to a bar, a hidden bar somewhere in town. It was you, your boyfriend and another couple of friends, it was all about to get some drinks and forget about the stress gathered during the week. You had ordered just a juice, how could you, Miss Perfection ask for something stronger? You couldn't, and you didn't. One because you were not used to drinking, and two because your boyfriend got mad if you tried to drink something stronger than a daiquiri.

Things were going smooth, until you saw him. A mysterious-looking guy sitting on one of the spots near the wall, his eyes clung to you as he inhaled the smoke of his cigarette. Despite the great number of nasty scars covering his face, and as you could see part of his hands, he was quite handsome. Was it his attitude? His clothes? Him? You couldn't tell, but right when he had smirked your friend's voice distracted you. Before leaving, you made a quick trip to the restroom, your friend was already out when you did, and as they were hurrying you, it was hard to notice that your wallet fell when you crashed with someone with the side of your body.

''Hey dollface'' The voice called, and if it hadn't been for the red light lighting the place, he would've laughed at your blush.

''Yes?'' You asked, feeling nervous when you noticed it was the scarred guy from earlier, he looked even hotter with less distance between the two of you.

''You dropped this'' He showed your wallet, holding it with his middle and ring finger. The man gave it back to you, and you felt like an idiot because you thought he was going to flirt with you.

''Thank you'' You said shyly, grabbing your wallet and leaving quickly as possible, leaving him with a cocky smirk standing behind you.

Two weeks went by after that. Two weeks and you couldn't stop thinking about the guy at the bar, his cocky smile, the scars that adorned his body, was it only his face? were more of them? Damn, even his voice, raspy and low, but still enigmatic and catchy, those three words keep resonating in your head. And when it was Friday again, you couldn't help it anymore. You told your boyfriend that one of your friends at work was dumped by her partner before their wedding and that she was waiting for you at a bar, he didn't oppose. Actually, it was as if he didn't listen to you because apparently, his Ludo game was more interesting than you. And he kept eating his cheese fingers as he lay on the couch.

You doubted, but you were already in the uber heading to the same bar, hoping to find him there. Even though you shouldn't. You shouldn't because you had a boyfriend, because you should be finishing reports for your job, you shouldn't because what were you doing at a bar at midnight on your own, but honestly? Maybe something deep inside you was tired of that life. And maybe, you needed a small push.

Once there, sitting at the bar you asked for a drink, a soft one because you didn't know much about the rest. Your eyes were looking around the place, trying to catch a glimpse of the person you were looking for, but there were signs of the mysterious guy. Guilt hit you again, and maybe the best option was leaving. You were about to stand up when a voice in your ears send shivers down your spine.

''Leaving so early, dollface?'' There it was. The same sensation as two weeks ago. It was him. You saw his back when he walked to sit in the tabouret in front of you.

''I...'' You doubted again. He was intimidating, his mere presence was intoxicating.

''You alone tonight? No lame-ass boyfriend around?''

''I needed to clear my head tonight'' You simply stated. ''And he... He is not lame'' Why did you reply that? Was it an intrinsic answer? probably. The one you were used giving.

''Oh, so you were having the time of your life, weren't ya?'' He smirked ''You didn't even laugh, pretty face. I think you're here for the second attempt'' He kept that cocky smile on his face, noticing the way you were looking at him. ''Why so tense, c'mon. Relax a little'' he took a sip from his glass.

''I'm not tense, should I?'' You asked, trying your best to look relaxed

''Yeah, sure'' He scoffed and rolled his eyes. ''The name's Dabi, by the way'' he moved to take another cigarette out.

And before you could notice, you were exchanging words with a stranger not so stranger. Dabi was all the opposite of your life, he was all the things you didn't do, the things that were forbidden, the ones that you avoid. thought about the man at home, about everything that was taught to you, to be good, to be perfect. If someone saw you hanging out with a man who had staples all over his face would've called you crazy. And maybe you were.

''I don't think you can take it'' Dabi had said ''You look too perfect, a badass life would tear you down.''

''Oh, is that what you think?'' You smiled, not even a bit drunk.

''Unless you show me the opposite'' He leaned forward, his hot breath tickling in your ear ''Why don't I corrupt you, Miss Perfect'' You felt your body covered in electricity, feeling things you've never felt before. He nibbled on your ear, slowly, and you could tell he was smirking.

And then, his lips were on your jaw, his hand resting on the opposite side of your neck 'I live nearby' you heard him say, and you? You nodded. That subtle touch felt like heaven, and there was no way in trying to hide it.

Before you knew it, you were walking with him on way to his place, and when you got there the only thing you could feel was the way he pinned you against the now-closed door, kissing you hard, not an ounce of shame. You felt the dampening on your panties from a simple kiss, what was with him? That was wrong on so many different levels, and a part of you wanted to go back home and keep living under those boring shadows of grey, but the other part of you wanted to stay there, and witness a whole different world, you wanted to stay.

''Aren't ya' going to call him?'' He whispered in your ear, turning around so his torso was against your back. ''Tell him you're not getting home tonight, doll'' You felt his smirk, and you were about to answer but a shy moan left your mouth when his hand got under your shirt.

''I think I should'' You managed to say under your breath and took your phone to dial him.

As you did, Dabi kept kissing your neck, biting it tentatively, and whispering dirty things in your ear as you spoke through the phone.

''Tori is very drunk and...'' You stop, his hand was right over your breast, massaging it at his will ''And... I came to her apartment, she can barely stand''

''She is a jerk, you see? That it happens when women do shits they aren't supposed to'' Your boyfriend said through the other side of the line.

''I think they enjoy a lot'' Dabi chuckled, and he unbuttoned your jeans, sliding his slender fingers in, you bit your lip.

''What was that?'' the other man spoke through the phone

''Nothing, the TV is on'' Your eyes were closed, and you coughed in an attempt of hiding a moan when Dabi slid a finger along your slit.

''So damn wet'' The scarred man said in your ear, setting your panties aside so he could feel you better.

''Sounds like a porn movie, hope you're not watching that Christian Grey thing'' Your boyfriend said again.

''No, it is just a music video. Listen, I gotta go, she's throwing up''

And with that and the last goodbye, you cut the call. Dabi lifted your shirt and tossed it to the floor, kissing your exposed shoulder. Your head fell back, resting on his collarbone as he kept moving his finger along your wetness. You could feel his crotch against your ass, he was already hard and you were a bit nervous. Without stopping his ministrations, he started walking with you towards his bedroom. In a brief moment, you skimmed the apartment. It was tiny, and it was very messy, but despite that, it didn't seem nasty.

At some point, your pants and shoes were off, and you didn't know if it was because of the heated situation or the fact that another man was seeing you in underwear but you were sure your cheeks were more than red. Your legs felt weak when Dabi started rubbing your clit in soft circular motions, breathing heavily in your ear. But suddenly, his hand was away from you. Turning around, you saw him. He was smirking, and he guided the same finger that was playing with you to his mouth, licking it clean, getting a sample of your taste. You sat down, and his eyes wandered all over your body, and you were not even fully naked yet.

''What, did the cat got your tongue?'' He asked ''You were so talkative at the bar, saying that you were not lame, that you could be a badass''

Dabi smirked, and got rid of his shirt right in front of you. He looked lanky with his clothes on, but now? You could see better what his clothes were hiding. Even though he was not muscular, his shoulders were broad, and despite the big burnt scars on his body, you could saw his abdomen was well defined, the same with the 'v' line that continued right under his pants. He got closer, and leaned down so he could plant a heated kiss on your lips, making you wish you could hold your breath for longer. A sound took you out of your thoughts, and even though you had your eyes closed you knew it was the sound of his belt, and then? His pants sliding down his legs. Once the kiss was over, he stood still again, and took his boxers down with no shame, on the contrary. A cocky smile was plastered on his face.

It was not the first time you've seen one before, but it was the first time in a few years you saw another one that wasn't your boyfriend's. And Dabi was thicker and bigger, the sight of it had you drooling, and you hoped you weren't being that obvious. He grabbed his length and pumped a few times, and you could notice something shining on the underside, and there they were. Three bars.

''First time you see a pierced one?'' He teased.

He kissed you one more time, the smirk never leaving his face. Dabi's hands went to your back, unclipping your bra and finally exposing your torso to his sight. You moaned shyly when his mouth was over your nipple, sucking it and biting it with the right pressure to make you squirm.

''I thought you wanted-'' You said in a low voice, biting your lip at his interruption.

''For you to suck me off? Yes, but that can wait you pretty thing''

After letting out a chuckle, he kneeled in front of you. A slap on your thigh made you whimper, and you obey at his command.

''Stand'' Dabi said. And his hands moved all the way up over your legs, getting rid of your panties and exposing your soaked intimacy. He licked his lips, and spoke again. ''Now sit back and spread those pretty legs for me, dollface''

You did as he said. And honestly, you felt the fear taking possession of your body. The last time your boyfriend was right between your legs, was more uncomfortable than pleasant. He was a brute, and he paid attention to everywhere less to the important parts, was that how it supposed to feel? Uncomfortable and even a bit painful? Your heart was racing, but then, it was like you were in heaven. He licked a stripe along your slit, focusing only on your clit. His movements were measured, and even though they were still a bit rough it was only pleasure filling your body. The vibrations of his moans made you shiver and moan, and in an instinctive reaction you used your hand to grab his head and pull him closer, making him smile against your core.

Dabi lifted one of your legs so he could place it over his shoulders, and the contrast of his cold staples and his warm mouth had you seeing stars.

He used two fingers to spread your walls, and that made him lick his lips.

''Look at that, what a perfect little hole you got there huh''

You felt a little bit embarrassed at his words, but then every thought clouded because his tongue was deep inside you, fucking you with no shame and making you squirm as he squeezed your thighs. You would have to come up with an excuse to explain the bruises.

He kept eating you out, switching from tongue fucking you to lick and suck at your clit with expertise.

What you didn't know, is that he was the biggest tease on earth, and when you were right on the edge he stopped everything, and stood up with a smile on his face. He crawled the two of you to the bed, using his knee to spread your legs as he whispered in your ear.

''The only way you're coming tonight, is on my dick''

He used a hand to align himself on your entrance, and he pushed his hips slowly. You? You threw your head back and let out a shameless moan, and it was the first time you heard yourself letting out such a sinful sound, and that made him smile. Dabi cursed under his breath, and he started moving quickly, making you bite your lip.

''Don't hold them back dollface, I want to hear you'' He said ''Let everyone know how good I make you feel, how bad and nasty you are''

He growled, and you forgot about everything. Your parents and their pressure of you achieving perfection? Gone. Your boyfriend being so lame and selfish? Gone. The people at your job asking you for more things and you wishing for a break? Gone. The only thing that you could think of, was how good he felt inside you, the way his abdomen looked every time he moved in and out of you, even the weight of his body on top of yours felt beyond good. One of your hands was on his head, tugging at his hair while the other was on his back, digging your nails at the strong sensations. Suddenly, you were not shy anymore. Moans were leaving your mouth, your hips were bucking against him following his fast and strong rhythm, crying out with each of his thrusts.

All of him was intoxicating, his scent, his voice, his body, all of it had you asking for more, not wanting stop. And Dabi was aware of it, he knew the impact he had on your body and certainly, he loved it. He loved he was corrupting such a nice girl. You opened your eyes, and try to make the words come out of your mouth, it was hard to hold them back with all of the emotions that were over your body, especially when you were feeling closer by the second.

''I'm- I'm on the pill'' You could say. And a devilish smirk appeared on Dabi's face.

''Does that mean that you want me to cum inside you?'' He scoffed ''Such a naughty little thing'' A moan left his lips as his thrusts became sloppier ''Scream my name, c'mon''

You couldn't do more than obey his demands, he had you wrapped around his finger. Your back arched and he held your hips, pounding relentlessly in and out of you, and by the way his cock twitched inside you you knew he was close too. You were about having an orgasm with a man that wasn't your boyfriend. And you were loving every second of it.

His naughty words were the perfect plus, and with them and his thrusts you felt that knot forming in your lower stomach, a feeling that you have forgotten.

''So close'' You said between panted sounds.

''That's it doll, cum on my cock. Don't hold back, c'mon'' he said, his face pressed against your neck, his sweat mixing with yours and his bites making you shiver.

It just took a few more thrusts for you to scream his name, digging your nails in the healthy skin of his back at the same time you felt his hot spurt deep inside you. Dabi moaned loudly as he kept his cock buried, finishing his release. Your entire body was shaking, coming down from cloud nine and processing everything that just happened. A gasp left your lips when he pulled out and rolled to the side of your bed, laughing a bit.

''Guess you were not a lame shit'' He lifted an eyebrow and you covered your face.

''Shut up, I'm not like this'' behind your hands covering your face, you were laughing. It was wrong, but it felt heavenly.

''What are you gonna say to the ugly little shit you call boyfriend bout' all of these'' His fingers were on your hips, touching the red areas that were probably going to become bruises. '' You should tell him how good I fucked you'' He chuckled and he rested on his side to kiss your neck again.

''I... I might just explain that I hit against something'' There was a slight blush on your cheeks, a mix of shyness and because of the previous events.

''I recommend you to find a different excuse, cause I'm not done with you yet'' He nibbled on your ear, and his hand grabbed your neck just a bit tightly ''Because there will be more bruises'' His voice was low, rough, and seductive. Almost compelling you.

''Really? Guess I will have to be creative, then'' You said surrendering to his charms. Everything felt more than good, he was addictive, and it felt like you weren't worried about stop being Miss Perfect. Those days were over.

''That's what I wanted to hear'' He smirked, and made you lift off the bed. He stood up, and leaned forward so he could whisper in your ear ''On your knees, princess.''

Tag list [open]: @waffleareniceandfluffy @axerrri @angelofdarkness1020]

#bnha+dabi #dabi #bnha dabi #dabi x reader #boku no hero academia #dabi headcanons #dabi imagine #mha dabi #dabi smut

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criticallyacclaimedstranger · 3 years ago

Text

Fic: Pillow Talk

Explicit (sex talk so just to be safe: no minors)

Frankie Morales x you (cishet woman, no kids, established relationship)

Summary: We all know that Frankie loves to make you squirt but what he doesn't know about squirting, he has to ask you. (Idk I just felt cute. Enjoy.)

💦💦

”What does it feel like?”

”Hmm?” You crack open one eye to regard Frankie across the bed from you. He’s on his back, one arm angled above his head, hand tucked behind the back of his head. You mirror his position, stretched out on your stomach, arm angled underneath the pillow under your cheek. You're both gloriously naked and enjoying a post-orgasmic slumber.

”Squirting,” Frankie specifies, turning his head to look at you. "What does it feel like?"

You notice a red scratch on his shoulder. Oops.

”What does squirting feel like?” Now you're catching up, but the question still puzzles you.

”Honestly, one might think you’re slow,” he teases you. You grimace at him.

”I wasn’t the one to fuck me until I was crying,” you remind him with some dignity. ”I’m allowed to be a little slow. I’m gonna be sore for days.”

”I'd say I'm sorry but....”

”Same about those scratches. I hope they sting.”

”They do,” he lets you know and you shoot him a brilliant, albeit tired, smile.

”Well?” he prompts.

”What does squirting feel like? Why do you ask?”

”Duh, because I wanna know,” Frankie scoffs. Your brows are knit together as you take a minute to find the right words.

”It feels good?”

”Feels good, well, thank you, that cleared up the whole thing.” Frankie’s voice drips with playful sarcasm. You slap his elbow lazily.

”Asshole.”

”Nope, that’s what you were only half an hour ago…”

”You’re so romantic, Francisco.”

”Sorry,” he offers, sincere now as he turns onto his side and leans over you to kiss you just above your spanked ass. ”Tell me? I wanna know. It’s so… intense.”

”Wet and cold, too,” you let him know, getting up on your elbows and moving closer to him, away from the now soaked towels you were smart enough to put underneath you before the start of your sexscapades. Frankie rolls onto his back again and props a couple of pillows behind him for elevation before grabbing your arm, encouraging you to climb on top of him. You do, and settle astride him, sore pussy resting on top of his messy pubic hair, head resting in the crook between his shoulder and neck. He smells of sweat and cum, just as you imagine you do, as well. In fact, the whole bedroom is impregnated with the smells of your date night acrobatics.

”Still waiting to know,” Frankie tells you, one hand finding yours, the other stroking down the middle of your back, one bumpy vertabra at a time.

”Yeah, okay, I’m thinking.”

He refrains from a witty comeback and lifts your hand to his mouth instead. The kiss is loving and shockingly chaste in comparison to all the things those lips have done to you during the last couple of hours.

”It’s… not like an orgasm,” you start, chewing on your lower lip thoughtfully. ”It feels nice, but it’s not a climax. Sometimes, I barely even register it, it just gets wet and uncomfortable around me.”

”You don’t notice it?”

”Not always. But sometimes I do. Sometimes I know it’s going to happen, I can even control it. It’s like… it’s similar to the feeling I have when building up to an orgasm. But instead of cumming, I squirt. And it feels nice, but it’s not an orgasm, I have to keep going.”

”That I know,” Frankie smirks, tapping two fingertips to the top of your butt crack. ”I always wondered why you don’t just pack it in after a squirt. Or why you sometimes seem so oblivious to it."

"You know when you're dying to pee, and you get to the bathroom, and the pressure is just crazy, and then you get to piss and it's like, aaahhhhhh!" you specify, enjoying the sight of the little goosebumps on his skin where your feigned sigh of relief hits him. "It's similar to that. It feels good, but it's not an orgasm."

"Huh." The little sound he makes is filled with thought and wonder.

”Now you know.” Your voice is trailing off a little; you're getting sleepy.

”Must be weird when it happens the first time,” he goes on. He likes this; finding out sex stuff from you, things he never dared or bothered to ask anyone else. But with you, it’s different. He wants to know if you were the same as him at 12 years old, wanking away every chance he got in his childhood bedroom. How you do it now, what you use, how you make yourself cum. (That, of course, he has first hand experience of. You've masturbated with him watching many times.)

”Yeah,” you acknowledge with a small laugh. ”First time it happened I thought I peed myself. I was mortified.”

A low chuckle makes Frankie’s chest and, subsequently, you bounce a little.

”The guy I was with was so conflicted. He was - "

"You weren't on your own?"

"No, I didn't even know I could do it, I thought it was just something porn stars did. Yay for wholesome sex ed," you roll your eyes. "Anyway, he thought it was awesome but kinda freaky. I think he found it a little gross."

Frankie scoffs. "How old were you? And how old was he?"

"Twenty... five? Ish?" You struggle to remember.

"Fucking piece of immature shit," Frankie growls, his hand splaying open on your back as if that alone could claim you for himself and his very adult skills in bed.

"If it makes you feel any better, he did it by accident and never managed to repeat it," you smile, pressing a kiss to Frankie's neck, where a prominent muscle tells you that he's biting his jaws together.

"It doesn't," he confesses grudgingly. "You should've been fucked properly from the start by men who knew how to treat you."

"We were young. We didn't understand better. And I'm definitely being both fucked and treated as I should now..." You scatter small kisses along his neck and shoulder, shifting a little on top of him so you can free up one hand and cup his cheek. Frankie sighs in contentment and starts to play with your hair as you set your head back down.

”Is it something guys… work for?” he asks, suddenly uncertain if it's something he really wants to know: how the men in your past have been with you in bed. "Making a woman squirt?"

"Some do," you answer with a movement reminiscent of a shrug. ”And they always wanted it too much, it just put pressure on me and made me unable to. I had to work out on my own how to do it."

You smile again, thinking of how lucky you are. "With you it's effortless. You know just how to do it, but you don't expect anything from me."

He presses a kiss to your forehead in lieu of a verbal reply.

"But I gotta say," you go on, "I think internet porn really made it worse for the girls. Anal and squirting and facial cumshots and all of that, there's so much we're supposed to put up with."

Frankie remembers, with some shame, his own excitement and wonder when getting acquainted with porn on the internet. That had been… intense.

”Especially getting jizzed in the face,” you yawn again, your tits pressing against his chest as yours expand with the deep inhalation. ”Why would anyone consent to that?”

Frankie murmurs something. The idea of cumming in your face is not altogether unpleasant. His cock twitches at the thought.

”Oh no…” you mumble. ”Not again.”

”Don’t worry.”

”I’m raw, I can’t –”

”You’re not gonna have to, my love.”

He goes on stroking your back and you doze off when his voice brings you back to the present.

”What’s your personal best?”

”Hmm?”

”How many times have you squirted? In one go, I mean?”

”Men,” you scoff, earning a low laugh. ”I don’t know. Have you ever counted them?”

”Nine.”

”Nine?” You lift your head and find his face painted with mischief.

”Nine,” he confirms. ”And you had three orgasms after that.”

”Imagine that.”

His cock twitches again and it’s definitely a little stiffer now than it was only a few minutes ago.

”I am.” He winks wickedly at you.

Turns out, both of you had one more in you.

#my fic #triple frontier #triple frontier fanfic #francisco catfish morales #francisco frankie morales #frankie morales #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x reader

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whumpmatsus · 3 years ago

Note

28 Kara is cute, one would say too cute to suffer. Not me. Maybe fic where he is feeling really sick, but being the quiet one he is forgotten for a while? Or something. Pls and thanks.

haha, nobody is EVER too cute to suffer here! including precious baby 18!Kara~ <3

I had fun with this, I hope you like it! c:

It’s pouring rain when the rest of the sextuplets come to walk Karamatsu home from the train station, and he doesn’t want to go out in it.

Today’s drama club meeting wasn’t a very good one. The teacher leading it got focused on the two lead actors for the play which the club is showing tomorrow night, because they were both fighting and at each other’s throats. Most of the others ignored Karamatsu in favor of being on their phones or reading magazines or running lines while the teacher was busy with the leads.

Finally, in a twist that puts the cherry on the horrible meeting sundae, despite the fact that he’s playing a small part, Karamatsu messed up his own lines every single time. The others were so irritated with him, he wished the floor would just swallow him up.

Usually he’s so good with acting. It’s something he’s passionate about and enjoys and takes pride in. Today… it’s not that he’s nervous about the production. It’s that he just feels awful.

He’s been tired since he woke up, he’s warm and clammy at the same time, his throat is scratchy, he keeps coughing and sneezing, and any part of his body that doesn’t have a specific complaint is simply achy. Mommy noticed that he wasn’t feeling well when she sent them all to school, but he begged her not to keep him home, and since he didn’t have a fever this morning, she let him go.

There’s… definitely a fever running through him now, though. He thought for sure his brothers would notice and maybe ask him if there was anything they could do; instead, he’s been behaving so normally as far as they’re concerned, with his quiet nature and tendency to cry over small things, that not a single one of them has picked up on it.

On top of everything else, he forgot his umbrella. It was supposed to be sunny today, so he had to walk from school to the train without one, and now when he gets out of the station, he has to go out into the rain with barely any protection.

Although he’s crying by the time he reaches his brothers, it blends in pretty well with the rain.

Thankfully, all his brothers are carrying umbrellas, so he huddles under Osomatsu’s and presses himself against his older brother’s side. Osomatsu immediately accommodates him, pulling Karamatsu in to get dry. “Hey, bro! Geez, you’re shaking like a leaf. Sorry you didn’t have your umbrella!” He chuckles and tousles Karamatsu’s hair. “That’s what you get for picking a nerd hobby that’s right after school so you don’t have time to go home and get anything.”

“Don’t listen to him, Kara ― your hobby is just fine,” Choromatsu hums. He’s busy trying to entertain Totty, who’s doing his damnedest to attach himself to Choromatsu’s hip. “Now, guys, it’s raining out here, so can we please go home and get some tea? If we stay out here much longer, we’re gonna catch colds, and I do not want to be sick for graduation.”

Jyushimatsu scoffs. “That’s still two weeks away. We’d be fine, dumbass.”

Choromatsu’s face turns bright red. “W-well, if you’re fine getting sick regardless, you can go jump in the puddles for all I care!”

A smile briefly flashes across the second youngest’s face. “Really??” And just like that, he’s back to looking constantly angry. “Naaah… that shit’s for babies!”

They all begin to walk, and Ichimatsu shakes his head. “Ah, Karamatsu-nii-san… some of my friends wanted to come see that play tomorrow. What time does it start, again?”

“U-uh.” Karamatsu sniffles a few times, nuzzling against Osomatsu’s shoulder. “7 P.M. for the first one. Then there’s another showing at… at 8:30. I… don’t know if I’m… going to go, though.”

“What??” Choromatsu frowns as the six of them stop for the crosswalk. “You’ve never had stage fright before. You’ll be fine once you get up on the stage.”

“I don’t know, Choro…”

“Oh, come on, Kara-nii-san. Don’t cry like that… you made a commitment! You don’t wanna let your club down, right?”

Karamatsu reaches up to try and wipe the tears away. Not only is it kind of ineffective because his rain-soaked bangs keep dripping down his face, his hand keeps brushing against parts of his acne as he tries, which is painful. “Y-yeah, but…”

Osomatsu gives his little brother a squeeze that he thinks is supposed to be reassuring. It’s a bit rough, though. “No ‘but’s unless you’re grabbing a girl’s butt, Kara! You got this! You’ve done this shit before and totally nailed it. You usually don’t have too many lines, anyway, so it’s not that bad, is it?”

God, he should have a little more backbone. He should be able to say things decisively and not just fall silent when his brothers push him like this. Actually, if he just managed to say outright that he’s sick, they wouldn’t even be saying anything like this stuff. Right now they just think it’s pre-curtain jitters, which happens, which they can usually shake him out of because they know he loves acting.

Funnily enough, even though he doesn’t have much of a spine himself, this crappy cold of his evidently thinks this is the perfect time to speak up. The congestion he’s been fighting blossoms into something insistent that he can’t ignore, and he quickly ducks his face down between his hands.

“― Hh’DSHH! Hah’DTchh! Hd’TCHHuu! Ahh’DTSCHhhoo!”

A volley of coughs rides on the tail end of the last sneeze, so much that he can barely get a breath in. Each one makes his all-over soreness sharpen for a second, unbearable pinpricks of pain across his whole body. The coughs make something in his chest crackle and it hurtsand suddenly he’d pulled into a protective hug.

Part of him wishes he could just pull away. The part of him that wants to lean into the contact wins out, allowing him to nestle into his older brother’s chest as he continues to cough.

“Shit, Karamatsu!” Osomatsu starts rubbing his little brother’s back in an attempt to help break up the fit. “The fuck, man? That sounds nasty. You coming down with something?”

Karamatsu can feel the others hovering closer, murmuring in concern among themselves. The coughs finally taper off and he scrubs at his eyes, no matter how much it hurts, even as more tears start to bubble up. “Y-yeah… I woke up sick…”

“What??” Choromatsu sounds almost like he’s been betrayed or something. “You should have stayed home! Ah… wait… wait, you walked all the way to the station from school in the rain when you already have a cold? That’s a great way to end up with a sinus infection or pneumonia! Shit, we gotta get you home…”

“Sorry…” Karamatsu manages to croak out, followed by more sniffles. Thanks to the cold air and the sneezing, his nose has started running again. “U-uh… does anyone have tissues…? I used all mine already…”

Ichimatsu starts to dig around in his pockets. “Yeah, I think I have some.”

As he hands over a small pack to his older brother, Osomatsu gives a protective squeeze. “Hey, Choro, don’t blame Karamatsu for all this. He should have said something, sure, but it’s not all on him here. We should have noticed something was up. Right? We’re his brothers.”

Karamatsu lets out a small whine of protest, pressing a tissue over his nose. It would have been nice for them to notice, but… it’s not like it’s their job. They don’t owe it to him to pay attention to him. “I-it’s not your fault…”

Before anyone else can say a word, Totty lets go of Choromatsu and darts over to circle his arms around Karamatsu’s waist. He’s sort of wedging himself between Karamatsu and Osomatsu, pretty clearly wanting to be with both of them. “Ah! We love you, Karamatsu-nii-chan!! We’ll take good care of you!”

“… Yeah,” Choromatsu chuckles. He reaches over to pat Karamatsu’s back. “I’m sorry we weren’t paying enough attention to notice you weren’t feeling well. But we’re gonna get you home and tucked into bed. And I’m sure Mom will call the drama club teacher to tell her you can’t perform tomorrow night.”

Jyushimatsu hums, and he appears to be trying very hard not to smile wide like he wants to do. “We’re probably all gonna catch it, right?”

Ichimatsu chuckles softly. “Yeah, that’s what usually happens.”

“So… we can go stomp in puddles, right? Since we’re gonna get sick anyway?”

“No, no, no,” Choromatsu immediately speaks up, “no stomping in puddles! We have to get Kara home!”

Of course, it’s too late. Jyushimatsu has run off ahead of them all, launching himself into every puddle he can find, his face switching between an irritated scowl and a borderline maniacal grin.

Totty’s still clinging to Karamatsu, snuggling against his shoulder. “We’ll all get to be sick together! That means we get to stay home from school for a couple days. We can sleep and watch movies and have a big cuddle puddle.”

Choromatsu sighs. “As long as we don’t miss the commencement ceremony, that’s okay. I guess the last few weeks of our senior year don’t matter too much with regard to schoolwork, anyway. Especially since we’re already adults.”

Another few coughs are muffled against Osomatsu’s chest, prompting everyone to give a brief stroke to Karamatsu’s back or hair. “Well, before we catch it,” Osomatsu says, “we’ve gotta get this geek home and throw his ass in bed. He’s really warm… feels like his skin’s gonna burn his clothes up. C’mon, Kara. We’ll get you wrapped up in a blanket, then maybe I can help Mom make some kayu to make you feel better.”

“Mm…” Well. That does sound pretty good. “… W-with umeboshi on top?”

“Yeah, sure! Whatever you want! And Choro can make some tea, Totty can pick out a movie, Ichi can get a cold cloth for your forehead, and Jyushi…” Osomatsu blinks and peers out where their fifth eldest is… way ahead of them. “What can Jyushi do?”

Choromatsu blows out a slow, frustrated breath. “… Stay out of the way??”

Totty giggles. “He can be the bodyguard! We’ll station him outside the room, and if any of Ichimatsu-nii-chan’s friends come by to try and take Ichimatsu-nii-chan away, Jyushi-nii-chan will scare them off!”

“Hey, yeah! That’s a good idea, Totty!”

“What? Why do you want to scare my friends away?”

“Because Karamatsu-nii-chan’s sick! They can’t drag you off somewhere when your big brother needs you! That’d be mean.”

“A-ah, hahahah… he’d be fine without me, but… I can just say no! We don’t need Jyushi to scare them away.”

“We miiiiiiight! At least, it would be funny!”

Karamatsu offers a tiny laugh, which quickly turns into another couple of coughs. He puts a weak arm around Totty and wonders how he’s going to keep his eyes open for the rest of the walk home. He thinks they’re not too far away, though.

“Thanks, guys… this… this might not be such a bad day after all…”

#Osomatsu san #whump #Karamatsu #18!Matsus #18!Karamatsu #illness #cold #fever #hurt/comfort #Osomatsu #Choromatsu #Ichimatsu #Jyushimatsu #Totty #aaaaaa look at these good boys all taking care of their brother once they realize he's sick #that's the pain of being quiet and shy! poor Kara #but at least he's getting taken care of now!! <3

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