#don’t mess with your medics
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
Text
Cybotronian Medic Colors
My sister saw fanart of a red and white Knock Out and it brought up a discussion of the color schemes of medics on Cybotron, how they likely need to be easily identified on the field so they need to be recognizable.
Red and white is the most likely color scheme to be used. However, an outlier the higher ups didn’t account for is what big a-holes the medics are.
Not only do the medics have to deal with the consequences of some dumb decisions, have to be prepared for EVERY scenario, and make sure everyone doesn’t kill themselves, they have to follow a dress code?!
Ratchet respects authority enough to not cross the line but he is sure is dancing on it. He follows the color scheme but uses a red that is just one shade away from being orange but no one can do anything about it since he’s technically not breaking the rule. He walks by the offices of the higher ups multiple times a day, every single day. He makes sure they see him when he walks by their windows.
Knockout doesn’t respect authority at all when it comes to paint job. The man is a diva and an opportunist. They said red and white but did not specify the ratio. No one has seen him for days, but in actuality he’s been there the entire time. No one recognized him because he changed his color scheme to 97% red and 3% white. They try to write him up but he simply points out the lack of specification.
Knock Out looks for loopholes while Ratchet is just straight up a dick.
62 notes
·
View notes
Text
people keep saying a “will they won’t they” always has the chance of ending up in a “won’t they” when it’s in a comedy show with a romance subplot and can I just ask what shows are you guys watching? like this is no longer skirting around a romantic undertones situation we are full blown “build up to a romance” arc right now and I cannot recall a singular sitcom where the romantic tension was left unresolved. this is pure ship bait right now cannot believe they are having you all on
#they pulled out the ‘this is a different better kind of love’ and ‘how could they date - he’s his boss!’ lines#and you guys are just pretending like they’re not messing with you? right in your faces???#i can only name one sitcom where the ‘will they won’t they’ was a ‘won’t they’ and that was crazy ex girlfriend#and we knew that from the start because that girl clearly needed medication not dick#please. please can we accept this is stupid writing if they don’t kiss now#THEY PLAYED GET OUT BY JOJO ARE YOU JOKING!!??#wwdits#what we do in the shadows#nandermo#wwdits critical
121 notes
·
View notes
Text
fuck, I hate telehealth, but ya know, I think I’d actually like it if it was in minecraft instead of a video call. Let’s do therapy in roblox or something.
#having a relationship with your therapist is unethical… but what about running a dungeon together in world of warcraft??#today we’re going to talk about my abandonment issues while we build a mountain base in minecraft together#shit… I was just joking but this is actually sounding kinda rad#but wowwee do I hate telehealth#I hate professional video calls#I always feel like I’m saying the wrong things or I’m not talking enough#my last psych appointment was telehealth and it suuuuuuucked#oh man I don’t even know if I ever posted about this#it just felt so awkward and I was always worried someone could hear me on the call through the apartment walls#and he was like basically ‘just try to think positive’#fuck you fuck you fuck you and also think about my butthole and fuck you#thanks for the meds but never say that shit to me again#like… my therapist is a cool guy. I ‘love him. or as much as you can love your doctor in a distant platonic way#he’s always so cool about ‘yeah your chemicals are all messed up’ and he’s doesn’t shut me down at least not without actually understanding#but my psych who works in the same office does telehealth and seems very distant and not great at talking about deeper issues#which is fine. really. I just needed a doc who’d give me a fair shake and help me with the medication side#but I have to do telehealth for him and it feels so awkward and shallow#can’t we just do a 5 minute phone call? ‘hello. can we up the dose of my meds? yes? okay thank you.’#I see you typing on your computer a lot. I’m not saying anything interesting. if you’re on neopets just say so#anyway I only thought about this bc I guess I COULD do telehealth therapy today or something#but like I said. telehealth feels awkward and I wouldn’t be able to open up over it#it’s cool tho for like… I dunno. people who can’t go in person or need quick visits or whatever#I’m not saying it’s not useful or a viable option. I personally just hate phone calls and video calls.#and I love video games bro 😎#and I love you#goodbye forever#text
4 notes
·
View notes
Text
I just learned that my schools disability center will give you a custom dog tag for a service dog. Marking it as a registered through the school accommodation.
This is due to a fake being brought into a class and injuring a real service dog.
To many I know that the ‘registration’ is a red flag. But since there’s a good deal of teams at my school (5 that I know of and we’re a smaller university) the chances of having a class with a Service Dog is pretty high. And since it did end poorly. I think it’s a good idea. Especially since the DRC team is really good abut accommodations. 
#service dog#i speak#actually disabled#chronic pain#disability#this is your friendly reminder to leave your pets at home#Service Dogs are expensive and life saving medical equipment so please don’t mess with them
5 notes
·
View notes
Text
It’s worth noting the study found that no tampon they tested - whether organic or inorganic, or from the U.K. or U.S. - was “safe” per se. They do acknowledge that some of the tampons could have gotten that way via agricultural or manufacturing processes.
That said, “Most metals differed by organic status; lead concentrations were higher in non-organic tampons while arsenic was higher in organic tampons. No category had consistently lower concentrations of all or most metals.”
The scientists acknowledge too that, “To our knowledge, no previous studies have measured metals in tampons,” and HOLY SHIT we’re going to need more far more data until we’re in the clear: “Future research is needed to replicate our findings and determine whether metals can leach out of tampons and cross the vaginal epithelium into systemic circulation.”
Friendly reminder this why we have the FDA, and the Supreme Court just ruled they don’t have to listen to them.
my period is back again and id like to take this moment to remind everyone with a uterus to avoid using tampons at all costs, if you can. a recent study was conducted with 14 different popular brands of tampons, revealing that every single one of them contained toxic metals such as lead, arsenic, and more.
#safety first#this has been a psa#tampons#sanitary products#health#science#medical science#metals#don’t mess with your mucus membranes if you can help it
26K notes
·
View notes
Text
Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley, who from the moment he laid eyes on you, has only ever referred to you as his wife
You, this sweet little thing, running through the halls on base one day when you turn a corner and nearly run headfirst into the Lieutenant, who’s walking alongside Soap
“Oh! Sorry about that, sir.” You told him, never slowing down in your hurried pace as you snuck around his large frame and continued down towards whatever you were evidently late for
The only reason his gaze had followed your retreating form, was that unlike everyone else, you had met his eyes when you spoke, even smiled warmly up at him
That one smile and he was done for
“Who was tha’?” The sergeant had questioned, seeing Ghost’s attention still fixated on you.
“Think that was my wife.”
“Yer what?!”
Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley, who makes it a point to let everyone know that you are in fact his wife
Well, everyone apart from you apparently
He would certainly never abuse his position as a Lieutenant, but some new recruit had the audacity to whistle at you as you walked by? Well 100 laps around the base don’t exactly run themselves
Another soldier saved you a seat next to him in a briefing? He can enjoy scrubbing toilet seats for the next week in that case
Someone actually had the bollocks to ask you for your phone number? Perfect, he needed a volunteer for demonstrating hand to hand combat to the recruits, medics on standby of course
By the time he properly introduces himself to you for the first time, it’s understood by everyone else around that you are, for all intents and purposes, Mrs Riley
Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley, who listens to you tell him your name in a voice that resembles music to his ears, hardly bothering to remember your last name, seeing as it’ll be changing soon enough anyway
“You can call me anythin’ you want, love.” His deep, gravelly voice had sent shivers down your spine, cheeky smirk widening beneath his mask. “So long as you call me, that is.”
By the end of your first date, (you were sitting alone in the dining hall and he wordlessly joined you what do you mean this isn’t a date) he’s wondering if you’ll insist on a ceremony or if he can sweep you away to the nearest courthouse and make this official, slipping a ring onto you finger and himself into you
You had laughed when he put his number into your phone and named himself ‘Husband’, certain that the man was only messing with you, some kind of hazing that you apparently weren’t aware Lieutenants played on the new communications hire, but it was only fair seeing as he’d saved your contact under ‘Wife’
Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley, who is over the moon every time you play along, even if he knows you believe you’re only playing
“Ach, thanks Lt. Just what I needed.” Soap said, seeing Ghost’s approaching form enter the common room, holding a steaming cup of tea in each hand
“S’for my wife. Get your own.” The older man gruffly replied, sliding the mug onto the side table next to where you’re curled up on the couch, reading a book
“Aw, thank you honey.” You giggled, smiling up as him with an expression he thinks would taste even sweeter than honey if he were to run his tongue across your upturned lips
“Happy wife, happy life, sergeant.” Ghost shrugged, ignoring the other man’s pout, landing next to you and reaching an arm behind you across the back of the couch
“God, maybe I really should keep you.” You’d laughed, reaching a leg out to dig your socked toes into his muscled thigh, teasing him
Grasping your foot into his large, strong hands, he began massaging it, uncaring that you were only two of the many people in the common room, not when you looked at him like that, smiling together as though you truly were nothing more than a married couple
Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley, who surprised you one day, insisting he needed your help with something crucial off base, and drove you to a local shopping outlet to look at none other than dresses
“Is there some sort of party happening?” You’d questioned, confused out of your mind
“Suppose you could consider it a party.” He’d answered, leading you through the many racks of dresses, you noticed were all, very conveniently, white
“Now while you’re lookin’ through dress sizes,” he’d added, taking your left hand in both of his. “You know your ring size? Got my own shoppin’ to do ‘round here.”
Series masterlist
#call of duty#call of duty fanfic#call of duty fic#simon riley#simon ghost riley#cod fanfic#ghost x reader#simon ghost x reader#simon riley x reader#simon riley x you#cod simon riley#simon ghost riley x reader#simon fluff#simon ghost riley x you#cod simon ghost riley#ghost x you#ghost fanfic#call of duty ghost#ghost cod#ghost#wife at first sight series#wife at first sight
18K notes
·
View notes
Text
𝐆𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐂𝐚𝐠𝐞
featuring. Ekko x fem!reader
wc. 15.5k
synopsis. Born from house Arvino, one of the richest and influential families of piltover. You had it all from luxurious gifts, fancy meals, a magnificent bedroom and much more. You’re parents gave you everything you asked for. However still never satisfied you. You’re mind always looked at the injustice and suffering zaun was going through. That’s when you first met ekko, the firelights’ leader. Not very happy to have a pilty messing stuff up.
trope. “enemies to lovers”
warnings. slow burn, cursing, blood, kissing 0-0, suggestive
requested. by anon
a/n. slight spoilers for arcane s2, it’s more like enemies to friends to lovers (sorry) if there’s mistakes you don’t see it! aka not proofread (read it thrice) also there’s no war in this :)
Above, the shimmering towers stood tall, their wealth and power casting long shadows. Below, Zaun suffocated in its neon haze, its people forgotten in the depths of the city’s ambition. Whereas the glow of Piltover’s lights filled the skyline. From the balcony of your family estate, the stark contrast between Piltover and Zaun was undeniable.
“You think your actions are noble, but you’re a fool,” your father’s voice thundered from the dining room. His words, sharp and unyielding, echoed through the halls as you stood silently by the doorway. “Consorting with the undercity rabble is not only dangerous, it’s treacherous.”
“They’re not rabble. They’re people,” you countered, stepping forward with clenched fists. “You act like Zaun doesn’t exist, but they’re suffering because of Piltover’s greed.”
“You don’t understand the world you live in,” your mother added, her tone softer but no less cutting. “House Arvino holds power because we uphold order. Piltover thrives because of people like us. You risk everything with your reckless defiance.”
Frustration boiled within you. “Piltover thrives at the expense of Zaun. Those people deserve better.”
Your father slammed his fist onto the table. “Enough! You are an Arvino, and you will act like one. This rebellion of yours ends now.”
His command hung in the air, suffocating and absolute. You didn’t argue further. Instead, you turned on your heel and left, the weight of their disapproval bearing down on you. You wouldn’t stop. You couldn’t.
Zaun had become a second home to you, even if it was a dangerous one. It was there, in the grimy depths of the undercity, that you had met Ekko. The boy with paint-streaked cheeks and a fire in his eyes had been as wary of you as you had been of him. Unfortunately, you had been too blinded by your own self-righteousness to notice the fire in his eyes. You thought your mission was noble, an act of goodwill to deliver medical supplies to Zaun’s struggling districts. Your family, House Arvino, had always prided itself on maintaining a veneer of philanthropy, even when their true motivations were rooted in politics. You had accompanied a group of Piltover enforcers on the trip, believing your presence would emphasize the importance of the task. You were wrong.
The moment you stepped into the heart of Zaun, the air itself seemed hostile. The tension was palpable, the sharp smell of chemical fumes mixing with the weight of countless wary stares from Zaunites who lined the streets. Your voice was soft and unsure as you addressed the gathered crowd, holding out your hands to show the crates of supplies. You thought you were doing something good, offering some small relief to people who had been forgotten.
But the enforcers who were armed and stoic, turned the scene into something far more sinister. They barked orders at the crowd, waving their weapons to ensure no one got too close. You had tried to intervene, to tell them this wasn’t how it was supposed to go, but your voice was drowned out by the chaos they had already sown.
That was when the boy appeared, the one you heard slight rumors about. At first, you didn’t know exactly who he was, only that he seemed fearless as he stepped forward. Placing himself between the crowd and the enforcers. His voice rang out, cutting through the noise like a blade.
“Another topsider playing savior,” he said, his tone dripping with disdain. “You think you can fix Zaun with scraps from your table?”
You had never been spoken to like that before. His words, sharp and accusatory, made your cheeks burn with anger and embarrassment. You turned to him, trying to keep your composure despite the growing crowd that was watching the confrontation unfold.
“I’m not here to play savior,” you shot back, your voice steady even though your heart was racing. “I’m here to help.”
“Help?” He laughed bitterly, the sound harsh and mocking. “Your kind doesn’t help. You just come down here to feel good about yourselves, then leave us to clean up your mess.”
“I’m trying to make a difference!” you snapped, your frustration boiling over.
His eyes narrowed as he stepped closer, his posture radiating defiance. “If you really wanted to make a difference, you wouldn’t bring enforcers with you like we’re criminals. You’d be standing with us, not above us.”
The words hit harder than you expected. Somewhere deep down, you knew he was right. The enforcers’ presence had turned an act of charity into a display of control, a reminder of Piltover’s dominance over Zaun. But admitting that felt like defeat, and you weren’t ready to back down.
“This isn’t about standing above anyone,” you argued. “I came here because I care. That’s more than most people from Piltover would do.”
“And that’s supposed to make you special?” He scoffed, shaking his head. “Newsflash, princess, Zaun doesn’t need your pity. We need change.”
The enforcers stepped in before the argument could escalate further, pushing the crowd back and ordering you to return to the transport. You left with the weight of his words pressing heavily on your chest, his voice echoing in your mind long after you were gone.
Over the weeks that followed, you found yourself returning to Zaun despite the tension and despite him. Every time you came, he was there, watching you with that same guarded expression. It seemed like he could sense your discomfort, the guilt you carried for what Piltover had done to his home.
“Back again?” he would say, leaning casually against a wall with a smirk that made your blood boil. “Guess you didn’t get the message last time.”
“I’m not here for your approval,” you’d hiss back, your tone dry. “I’m here for the people who actually need help.”
“You think you’re helping?” he’d shoot back, his voice low and laced with frustration. “All you’re doing is putting a bandage on a bullet wound.”
His words stung, not because they were cruel, but because they forced you to confront truths you didn’t want to face. He wasn’t wrong. Everything you did felt small, insignificant compared to the scale of Zaun’s struggles. And yet, you couldn’t stop coming back.
Ekko was unlike anyone you had ever known. He was quick-witted and determined, a rebel who refused to back down in the face of injustice. But he didn’t trust you, not completely. “You’re just another Pilty trying to fix a world you don’t understand,” he had told you once, his voice filled with disdain.
“And you’re just another rebel too angry to see the bigger picture,” you had shot back. Yet despite the constant sparring, you found yourself drawn to him, to the hope buried beneath his frustration.
That hope turned to chaos one night when enforcers raided the Firelights’ hideout. It happened so fast. One moment, you were in the Firelights’ hideout, quietly listening as Ekko outlined plans for their next move against Piltover’s oppression. The next, chaos erupted.
The sound of boots echoed sharply against the metal grates of Zaun’s narrow passages. The enforcers had found the hideout. Your breath caught as the unmistakable clatter of their weapons reverberated through the space. You stood frozen, staring at Ekko as he barked orders to the Firelights around him, his voice sharp and commanding.
“You brought them here, didn’t you?” His words were like a blade, cutting through the noise. His piercing gaze locked onto you, and your stomach churned with guilt.
“I didn’t mean to,” you whispered, but your voice was drowned out by the growing commotion. The enforcers didn’t give anyone time to explain. They swarmed in, their heavy armor gleaming under the dim light, weapons raised. You reached for the nearest object which was a dainty metal rod. And tried stand your ground. You weren’t going to let them harm anyone, not here.
Ekko was already moving, his quick reflexes guiding him as he darted through the chaos. The Firelights fought back, using their intimate knowledge of Zaun’s layout to their advantage. Smoke bombs went off, shrouding the room in thick, stinging fog. He towards you with a slight disgusted look and yelled, “You have to leave, Now!”
“I’m not leaving,” you said, your voice defiant.
“You’ll just slow us down,” he snapped, the frustration in his tone cutting deeper than he intended. “They need me. And you need to go back to your perfect little life, staying safe.”
His words stung, but before you could argue, he vanished into the fray, leaving you behind. You tried to follow, weaving through the chaos, but you weren’t quick enough. An enforcer caught you in the shadows, his grip like iron as he slammed you against the wall. “Here you are.”
However the enforcers were relentless. One of them caught sight of you, his eyes narrowing as he grinned. You swung the rod with the little strength you had left, but it was no match for their training. Pain exploded across your abdomen as he shot you. It nearly missed your stomach, however you crumpled to the ground. Gasping for the little air you could muster.
Through the haze of smoke and pain, Ekko pull something from his belt. A device crackling with vibrant green energy. “Firelights, cover your eyes!” he shouted. The device emitted a blinding flash, followed by a wave of sound that sent the enforcers reeling. Their yells of confusion filled the air as they stumbled back, disoriented and clutching their helmets.
The Firelights seized the opportunity, retreating deeper into the hideout and disappearing into secret tunnels. Ekko crouched beside you, his hands shaking as he lifted your chin. “You okay?” he asked, his voice rough but laced with concern.
Without replied to his question, you stumbled out of his grasp. Going into the streets of Zaun, clutching your side as every step sent searing pain through your body. The world around you blurred, a mix of dim lights and the shadows of the towering structures above.
He was shocked to say the least. ‘Why did you leave so abruptly?’ he questioned himself. Ekko didn’t waste a second, he truly did try to hide it. But as soon as the enforcers were gone and the Firelights were safe, he was out the door. Searching for you and he didn’t want to admit it. He knew didn’t know you as much, but he knew you were stubborn. Matter fact for the short period of time he was with you, he knew you were too stubborn to admit how badly you were hurt.
“Where the hell did you go?” he muttered under his breath, scanning the narrow alleys and dimly lit corners of Zaun. His mind raced with possibilities, each one worse than the last. You were nowhere to be found.
The beating left you crumpled on the ground, your vision blurred and your body trembling with pain. Somehow you managed to drag yourself back to Piltover, every step a battle against the agony that wrecked your body. By the time you stumbled into your family’s estate, the grand halls felt like a mockery of your suffering. Your parents returned hours later to find you collapsed in the foyer, your bruises stark against your weak skin. Their shock quickly turned to anger, though it was born of fear.
“This is what happens when you defy us,” your father said, his voice shaking with fury. “Do you see now? You can’t change the world. You can only get yourself killed.”
“I trying to help,” you murmured, your voice weak but resolute.
“They are not your people,” your mother said, her tone filled with a mix of pity and frustration. “You are our only child. We can’t lose you to some pointless crusade.” Their words lingered, but they didn’t understand. They couldn’t. The divide between Piltover and Zaun wasn’t just physical, it was ideological. You were caught between two worlds, neither one willing to accept you fully. The summons to the Council came the next morning. As you stood in the grand chamber, the weight of their judgment bore down on you. Ambessa Medarda, seated at the center, regarded you with cold disdain.
“You stand accused of undermining Piltover’s authority by associating with the undercity,” she said, her voice sharp and unyielding. “Do you deny these charges?”
“I was just trying to helping people,” you replied exhaustively, your voice steady despite the pain in your ribs.
Ambessa’s lips curled into a cruel smile. “Helping? Piltover thrives because of order. And you, as an Arvino, have brought chaos to our city.”The council murmured their agreement, their disapproval a suffocating presence in the room.
“Your actions were reckless,” Ambessa continued. “And your injuries are your own doing. You clutched the knife and cut yourself on its blade, all in the name of some misguided sympathy for the undercity." Her words felt like another blow, each one landing with precision and force.
You straightened your back, though the pain flared at the effort. "I acted because the people of Zaun are ignored and oppressed. Piltover turns a blind eye while it prospers off their suffering. That's not order, it’s exploitation." The murmurs grew louder, some council members shifting uncomfortably in their seats. But Ambessa didn't waver. Her gaze bore into you, her lips curling with faint amusement.
"Such passion," she mused. "But passion without purpose is just noise. You may think yourself a savior, but all you've done is tarnish your family's name and threaten the stability of our city."
Before you could respond, the chamber doors swung open with a heavy groan, and your parents entered. Dressed in their finest, House Arvino's patriarch and matriarch carried themselves with the grace and dignity that Piltover revered. Yet the tension in their features betrayed their unease.
"Ambessa," your father began, his tone measured but firm. "My child's actions, while impulsive, stem from a place of compassion. Surely the Council can recognize that their intentions were not malicious."
"Compassion?" Ambessa's tone was mocking. "Compassion does not excuse rebellion. House Arvino has always stood for loyalty to Piltover's ideals. Is that no longer the case?"
Your mother stepped forward, her voice calm but resolute. "Our loyalty has never wavered. But to degrade my child in front of this council as if they are a common criminal is unacceptable." Ambessa's expression darkened.
"Unacceptable is your heir jeopardizing the balance we've worked so hard to maintain. Zaun is a powder keg, and actions like theirs threaten to ignite it." You bit your lip to keep from speaking. The words you wanted to hurl at her-at all of them-burned on your tongue, but your mother's warning glance silenced you.
"House Arvino will address this matter internally," your father said, his voice brooking no argument. "We will ensure that such actions are not repeated."
Ambessa leaned back in her chair, studying your parents with a calculating gaze. "See that you do. Piltover cannot afford dissent from within its own ranks." The council murmured their agreement, and the session was adjourned. As you were escorted from the chamber, the weight of the council's disdain hung heavy over you.
Back in the confines of your family's estate, the anger you had suppressed boiled over. You slammed your hands against the polished surface of your desk, the pain in your ribs flaring with the movement. "They're cowards," you spat, your voice trembling with fury. "All of them. Sitting in their gilded towers while Zaun suffers."
"Alright thats enough," your father said sharply, entering the room with your mother close behind. "You don't understand the position you've put us in. House Arvino cannot afford to be seen as weak or disloyal."
"I don't care about any of that!" you shouted, turning to face them. "Zaun doesn't have the luxury of appearances. They're dying while we live in luxury!"
Your mother's expression softened, but her voice was firm. "We understand your frustration. But your actions cannot continue. They will destroy you, and us." Their words echoed Ekko's from the night before, and the parallel struck a chord. You sank into a chair, the fight leaving you as exhaustion took its place. "I can't just stop. Not when I know what's happening down there."
Your father sighed, placing a hand on your shoulder. "Then you must find another way. A way that doesn't make enemies of those who hold power." The conversation ended there, but the fire within you didn't dim. If anything, it burned brighter. You couldn't stop. Not now.
Months have passed since your bruises had faded were a careful balancing act, though you still visited Zaun, slipping away under the guise of errands or charitable outings. But you couldn’t risk your parents catching on. To lessen their suspicions, you began inviting Ekko to your home. It was a calculated move, one that made your absences less frequent and gave the illusion that you’d abandoned your cause entirely.
Your room was a testament to Piltover’s grandeur, a lavish blend of opulence and elegance. High ceilings adorned with intricate gold detailing framed the space. The sheer curtains cascaded from tall windows, filtering moonlight across the polished marble floor. A canopy bed, draped in silken fabrics, sat at the room’s center, its pillows and blankets impossibly soft. Bookshelves lined the walls, filled with volumes ranging from engineering texts to poetry. A chandelier, all crystal and gleaming light, hung overhead, casting a warm glow over every corner.
It was in this very room that Ekko sat now, hidden behind the lush velvet curtains of one of the tall windows. Your father had come to check on you earlier, his heavy footsteps unmistakable in the hallway. When he entered, you were seated at your desk, feigning focus on a mundane ledger. He lingered by the door, his gaze sweeping over the room before settling on you. “You’ve been staying home more often,” he observed.
You offered a nonchalant shrug. “I realized it was pointless to keep going there. It’s useless trying to fix what can’t be fixed.”
Your father’s face betrayed nothing, but there was a glimmer of pride in his eyes. “A wise choice,” he said simply, and without another word, he left.
The door clicked shut, and you exhaled slowly, waiting until his footsteps faded down the hall. Then, turning your head slightly, you murmured, “You can come out now.”
Ekko stepped from behind the curtains, his movements silent but confident. He was a great contrast to your room’s pristine elegance. His clothes patched and worn, his presence a reminder of the worlds you tried to somehow balance. “You’re getting good at lying,” he remarked, a teasing edge to his tone.
You rolled your eyes, motioning for him to sit on the plush chair near your desk. “I wouldn’t have to if you didn’t insist on brainstorming plans here.”
“It’s safer,” he replied, settling into the chair and pulling a small notebook from his pocket. “Besides, you’re the one with the luxury of access. If we’re going to unite the cities, we need someone who can work both sides.”
You hated how his words made your heart race. Not because of their weight but because it was Ekko saying them. Somewhere in the months of sneaking around and strategizing, you’d grown to like him in a way that went far beyond friendly admiration. You buried those feelings deep, telling yourself there was no time for distractions.
The hours passed as the two of you pored over maps, scribbled ideas, and argued over logistics. The moon rose higher in the sky, its silver light pouring through the windows and bathing your room in an ethereal glow. Ekko grew quieter as the night wore on, his usual sharp wit replaced by a pensive silence. You noticed his gaze flickering to you more often, lingering for moments too long before darting away. At first, you ignored it, chalking it up to exhaustion. But when you caught him staring for the fifth time, you couldn’t help but smirk. “Something on your mind?” you asked, leaning back in your chair.
He shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “Just thinking.”
“About?” you questioned, leaning back against your chair.
“About how strange it is, being here,” he admitted, his voice softer than usual. “This room, this world…it feels like it shouldn’t exist. Like it’s too perfect to be real.”
“It’s not perfect,” you said quietly, your gaze dropping to the papers on your desk. “It’s a gilded cage. Nothing more.”
His eyes softened, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. The silence stretched, heavy with unspoken words. Then, slowly, he stood and crossed the room to where you sat.
“I hate to say this. But atleast i’m here…” he said hesitantly, his voice low and steady.
Something in his tone made your breath hitch. You looked up at him, and the intensity in his gaze sent a shiver down your spine. Before you could think, before you could stop yourself, you leaned in.
Ekko met you halfway, his lips crashing against yours with a hunger that left you breathless. His hand found the back of your neck, his fingers tangling in your hair as he deepened the kiss. It was nothing like you'd imagined. It was raw, desperate, and full of the emotions you'd both kept bottled up for too long.
He pulled you to your feet, guiding you back toward the bed without breaking the kiss. The world blurred around you, your senses overwhelmed by the warmth of his touch, the taste of his lips, the way he made you feel alive in a way you never had before.
You fell onto the bed, the soft blankets and pillows cushioning your back as he leaned over you, his weight a comforting pressure. His hands framed your face, his thumbs brushing your cheeks as he kissed you again and again, each one more passionate than the last.
It wasn't until his arms braced on either side of your head that he pulled back, his chest heaving as he stared down at you. The moonlight cast shadows across his face, highlighting the sharp angles of his jaw and the softness in his eyes.
"Do you want me to keep going?" he asked, his voice hoarse. You reached up, your fingers brushing against his cheek. "You might as well…" And as he leaned down to kiss you again, you knew there was no going back from this.
Golden hues of the afternoon sun spilled into your room through the tall, arched windows, painting the polished wooden floors in a mosaic of light and shadow. Outside, the tranquil sounds of Piltover carried through the crisp air. The distant hum of mechanized carriages, the faint chatter of passersby, and the melodic chirping of birds perched along the grand gardens that surrounded your home. Everything was perfect, picturesque even, but it all felt hollow.
Your bedroom was a masterpiece of luxury, a reflection of House Arvino’s status. Elegant bookshelves lined the walls, filled with leather-bound tomes you once eagerly devoured. A velvet armchair sat by the fireplace, its cushion still as pristine as the day it arrived, and your grand four-poster bed was draped in silk, untouched except for the rumpled corner where you sat. Yet, despite the warmth and beauty of the space, it felt cold.
You hadn’t touched your breakfast that morning, nor the one the day before. The silver tray your maid brought hours ago sat untouched on your writing desk, the tea long gone cold. Your appetite had vanished with him.
“Miss,” came a tentative voice from the doorway. You turned to see Anya, your maid, standing there with a concerned expression. She stepped into the room, her brow furrowed as her gaze swept over you. “You haven’t eaten again. This isn’t healthy.”
You waved her off without meeting her eyes. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not,” she pressed gently, her voice tinged with worry. “You’ve barely touched your meals for over a week. If this continues, I’ll have to tell your parents.”
Her words sent a jolt through you. The last thing you wanted was for your parents to get involved. They wouldn’t understand. They never did. But you knew Anya was serious. Her loyalty to you didn’t outweigh her duty to ensure your well-being.
“Alright,” you relented, forcing a weak smile. “I’ll eat later.”
Anya didn’t look convinced, but she nodded and left the room. The heavy door clicked shut behind her, leaving you alone with your thoughts once more. You leaned back against the plush pillows of your bed, staring up at the intricate carvings on the ceiling. Days had turned into weeks since Ekko had kissed you in this very room. Weeks since you’d seen him, since you’d spoken to him. At first, you’d waited eagerly, expecting him to climb through your window with that same confident smirk he always wore. But as the days passed, hope turned to disappointment.
However, the first week had been agony. Every creak of the floorboards, every rustle of the trees outside, had sent your heart racing, only for it to sink when you realized it wasn’t him. You told yourself he was busy, that Zaun demanded too much of him to spare a moment for you. But as the second week came and went, you began to question everything.
Was the kiss a mistake? Did he regret it? The thought gnawed at you, leaving you restless and irritable. Eventually, you stopped waiting. You stopped glancing at the window, stopped listening for the familiar sound of his footsteps. If he didn’t want to see you, then fine. You wouldn’t waste your time waiting for someone who clearly didn’t care.
But despite your best efforts to move on, the ache in your chest remained. It showed in the way you pushed away your meals, the way you avoided the social gatherings your parents encouraged you to attend. Your mother had noticed, of course, her sharp eyes taking in your pale complexion and listless demeanor. “Are you unwell, darling?” she’d asked one evening, her tone as polished as ever.
You’d smiled and lied, assuring her it was nothing more than fatigue. She’d accepted your answer, but her gaze lingered, skeptical.
Now, as you sat in your room, the weight of it all pressing down on you, you realized you couldn’t keep living like this. You couldn’t keep letting his absence control your life. If he didn’t care, then neither should you. But no matter how much you tried to convince yourself, the truth was undeniable. You missed him.
The days stretched on, blending into a monotony of forced smiles and empty conversations. You threw yourself into the routines of Piltover’s elite. Attending social calls, charitable luncheons, and the parties where everyone whispered behind jeweled fans about alliances and intrigue. On the surface, you seemed like yourself again. You laughed when expected, nodded politely during dull conversations, and played the part of the perfect child of House Arvino.
But beneath the carefully constructed façade, a storm brewed. No matter how hard you tried to bury it, the memory of Ekko lingered, sharper and more vivid with each passing day. His voice, his touch, the way he had kissed you. It all haunted you. It didn’t make sense, you told yourself. He was just a friend, nothing more. Yet the thought of him ignoring you, of deliberately staying away, clawed at your chest.
One night, long after the rest of your house had gone to bed, you sat by your window, staring out at the glowing lights of Piltover. The thought hit you with the force of a hammer. You know deep down that you couldn’t keep waiting. If he wouldn’t come to you, then you would go to him.
The decision wasn’t easy. It took days to build up the courage, to push aside the fear of what you might find. But when you finally made your way to Zaun, the heavy air and dim light of the undercity greeted you like an old adversary. You navigated the twisting streets, every step bringing back memories of the times you’d spent here. How he had carefully and slowly opened this world to you, how you’d fought for it together. Well atleast try to.
When you finally reached the Firelights’ hideout, you felt your stomach tighten. It looked the same as ever, but something about it felt different. You spotted him almost immediately, standing near a table strewn with maps and tools, his back to you. “Ekko,” you called out, your voice steady despite the tremor in your chest.
He turned slowly, his face unreadable. For a moment, you thought you saw something flicker in his eyes. Was it surprise, maybe even relief. Either way it didn’t matter because it was gone in an instant, replaced by an icy look. “What are you doing here?” he asked, his tone cold.
The words hit you harder than you expected. “I… I came to see you. It’s been weeks, and—”
“And what?” He cut you off, turning away to fiddle with something on the table. “You’ve got a life up there. What do you need me for?”
Your chest tightened, anger bubbling to the surface. “Don’t do that. Don’t act like I just forgot about you. You’re the one who stopped coming around.”
He scoffed, finally turning to face you. “Stopped coming around? You think I’ve got time to play house? I’ve got real things to deal with here, things that actually matter.”
The words stung, but you refused to back down. “And I don’t? Do you think it’s easy for me to come here, to fight for a place I don’t even belong to? I thought we were doing this together, Ekko.”
He stepped closer, his voice rising. “You don’t get it, do you? You don’t belong here. This about you. You can go back to your fancy dinners and your perfect life anytime you want, but this is my reality.”
You clenched your fists, your own voice shaking with anger. “Don’t you dare act like I haven’t sacrificed anything! Do you know what it’s like to lie to everyone you care about, to pretend you’re someone you’re not, just so you can try to make a difference?”
“Sacrifice?” he shot back, his voice dripping with disbelief. “You don’t know the first thing about sacrifice.” The air between you crackled with tension, the weight of everything left unsaid pressing down on you both. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the anger simmering in the silence.
Finally, you took a shaky breath, your voice softer but no less firm. “You don’t get to decide what I care about, Ekko. I came here because I thought you were my friend.”
He looked away, his jaw tight. “I didn’t ask for you to come.” The words were like a slap to the face, but you refused to let him see how much they hurt. “Fine,” you said, your voice cold. “If that’s how you feel, then I won’t bother you again.”
You turned on your heel, walking away before he could see the tears starting to swell in your eyes. But just as you reached the door, his voice stopped you. “Wait.”
You hesitated, your hand on the worn wood, but you didn’t turn around.
“I…” His voice faltered, the anger replaced by something softer. He inched his head as he paced around, “I didn’t mean it like that.”
You looked back at him, his expression finally cracking. There was pain in his eyes, the same pain you’d been carrying for weeks.
“Then what did you mean?” you asked quietly, your voice trembling.
He didn’t answer right away, his gaze dropping to the floor. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I just… I didn’t know what to say. After what happened, I thought it’d be easier if I stayed away. But it wasn’t.”
Your shoulders sagged, the fight draining out of you. Looking at with with complete disbelief. “Seriously! You could’ve just told me.”
He nodded, his expression filled with regret. “Yeah. I should’ve.”
For a moment, the two of you just stood there, the weight of the argument lingering in the air. But as you looked at him, at the boy who had opened your eyes to so much, you felt the anger fade, replaced by something else. This was something you weren’t ready to admit to anyone.
A few months have passed and things were relatively calm, much hasn’t happened since then. The suffocating air of Piltover’s council chamber lingered in your mind as you strode through the bustling streets of Zaun. The conversations in those hallowed halls always left a bitter taste on your tongue. They spoke of progress and prosperity, but beneath the gilded rhetoric, it was all about control. To control of resources, people, and power. It was a game you were born into but had grown to despise.
You moved swiftly, your hood pulled low to shield your face from prying eyes. The undercity was alive with its usual chaos, but you’d long learned to navigate its labyrinthine streets without drawing attention. This was your escape, your solace. The world of House Arvino, your family’s wealth, influence, and ties to the Council. It all felt more like chains with each passing day.
The hideout was tucked deep within the shadows of Zaun, a sanctuary for the oppressed and rebellious. It had become a second home to you, a place where you could finally breathe. Ekko had been wary of you at first, rightfully so. Your name carried weight in Piltover, and trust wasn’t something he gave freely. But over time, you’d proven yourself.
Today, the air in the hideout was thick with tension. Ekko was at the center of it all, his voice calm but commanding as he gave orders to his crew. He noticed you immediately, his sharp eyes narrowing slightly as you approached.
“Back again?” he asked, leaning against a makeshift table. His tone was teasing, but there was an edge to it, a quiet concern he rarely voiced outright.
“I can’t seem to stay away,” you replied, offering a small smile.
His lips twitched, almost forming a grin, but he shook his head instead. “You’re playing a dangerous game, y’know?”
You shrugged. “I know.”
He studied you for a moment, his gaze lingering as if he was trying to decipher something. Then, with a sigh, he gestured for you to follow him to a quieter corner.
“What’s really going on?” he asked once you were alone. “You’ve been coming here more often, and I know it’s not just to check on the Firelights.”
You hesitated, your fingers gripping the edge of your cloak. “I… I don’t know if I can keep doing this. Pretending like everything’s fine topside when I know how much blood is on their hands. My family’s hands.”
He frowned, his usual confidence giving way to something softer. “You’re not responsible for what they do.”
“Aren’t I?” you countered, your voice rising. “I’m part of them, Ekko. Every time I go back to that house, every time I sit in those meetings, I’m complicit. I’m part of the system that’s crushing this place.”
The intensity of your words caught him off guard, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he placed a hand on your shoulder, his touch grounding. “Then why do you keep going back?”
“Because…” You trailed off, your throat tightening. “Because I thought I could help. That I could use my position to make a difference. But now, I’m not so sure. The Council sees Zaun as nothing more than a problem to be solved, more importantly, destroyed.”
Ekko’s jaw tightened, his anger barely contained. “They’ll never stop. Not unless we make them.”
You couldn’t stop thinking of the face ekko made when you told him what you were internally thinking. How the council thinks so poorly about zaun, how it can be something that wouldn’t be missed if it was gone. It was horrible that most of the topsiders thought the same way, had the same mindset.
You walked briskly, the streets unfamiliar under the heavy shadows of the evening. You had chosen this route for its discretion, a calculated decision that now felt dangerous in its isolation.
Your heart pounded in your chest, though you didn't want to admit why. It wasn't fear of being recognized or stopped by one of Zaun's residents. No, this was something more insidious. A seed of doubt planted by weeks of balancing on a blade's edge between two lives. House Arvino's influence was undeniable, and it had kept you shielded from true danger for so long. But here in Zaun, your family name meant less than nothing. To most, you were just another noble, another cog in the machine grinding them into dust.
Ambessa had recently cornered you in Piltover's glittering council halls, her words honeyed but laced with venom. She had offered you promises of power, privilege, and security for your family. In order to gain immunity from suspicion, all in exchange for complete submission. You'd nodded and played your role, but the encounter left you hollow. The high society life you'd once cherished now felt like a gilded cage, and her offer only tightened the bars.
Yet, her influence was terrifying. Under Ambessa's direction, the Council had started scrutinizing House Arvino with an alarming intensity. The Firelights, they claimed, had spies in Piltover. And somehow, House Arvino's connections to Zaun became their scapegoat. You were well aware of what that scrutiny meant-your family was being squeezed, maneuvered into a position where betrayal seemed the only way to survive. A betrayal by who? you thought.
As you turned a corner into an empty alley, those doubts turned into a growing unease. The silence around you felt oppressive, unnatural. You hesitated, glancing over your shoulder. That was when the first strike landed, the butt of the gun hitting your head. You staggered, gasping in pain, only to be shoved against the damp wall. A rough hand grabbed your cloak and yanked it back, revealing your face to the enforcers.
"Well, well," one sneered, his voice dripping with disdain. "A little lost noble playing savior in Zaun yet again."
"Let go!" you hissed, trying to pull free. But there were too many of them, and their grips were forceful and rough.
"We know all about your little meetings with the boy," another enforcer said, driving his fist into your stomach. "Did you really think you could run around down here without consequences? Or did your family forget to teach you how the real world works?" The pain blurred your vision as you crumpled to the ground. You clawed at the dirt, trying to crawl away, but another blow landed, then another.
Laughter echoed around you as they kicked and struck without mercy. The worst part wasn't the physical pain. It was the guilt, the sickening realization that you'd been naive enough to believe there could be change. Especially from within the Council's walls. You'd hoped that by walking the line between your family and the Firelights, you could create something better. But this? This was your reward for dreaming too much.
Tears blurred your vision as you curled into yourself, trying to shield your head. "Stupid," you whispered through clenched teeth. "Stupid, stupid, stupid." You slammed your fist against your temple, desperate to drown out the pain, the voices, the failure.
The enforcers stepped back momentarily, likely to assess whether you were still conscious. But before they could strike again, a loud crackling sound filled the air. "Back off," came a familiar voice, sharp and commanding.
You barely managed to open your eyes, but the sight was unmistakable. Ekko and his hoverboard gleaming as he charged forward. Behind him, several Firelights emerged from the shadows, their makeshift weapons glowing in the dim light.
"What the-" one enforcer started, but Ekko was already upon him, a precise swing of his bat sending the man sprawling. The Firelights fought with a ferocity that sent the enforcers scattering, though Ekko's eyes never left you. He reached your side in moments, dropping to his knees. "Hey," he said, his voice softer now. "Don’t go close your eyes, stay with me now."
You tried to speak, but all that came out was a choked sob. Blood trickled from a huge gash above your brow, staining your face. Ekko pressed a hand to your shoulder to steady you, but you flinched. Your fist weakly hitting your own head again. "Stop it," he said firmly, grabbing your wrist before you could hurt yourself further. "Hey! Don't do that."
"I'm an idiot," you mumbled, your voice barely audible. "| thought... I thought they could change. That Piltover could change. But I was wrong. They'll never stop."
His expression softened, though his jaw was still tight with anger. "You're not an idiot. You're just optimistic... too hopeful for your own good."
The Firelights surrounded you, their movements tense as they prepared for more enforcers to arrive. Ekko lifted you carefully, his arm supporting your weight. "We need to move," one of his crew said.
"Yeah i know," Ekko replied, his eyes still on you. "Let's get out of here."
As he carried you to safety, the weight of your choices pressed down on you like never before. Your family would demand answers. The Council would escalate their efforts. And Ambessa? Oh, she’s gonna have a fieldday with this. She would stop at nothing to make you pay for what she'd see, see it as a betrayal to your own people. But as Ekko held you steady, his presence a grounding force amidst the chaos, you realized something else. You were no longer just caught between two worlds, you were tearing one down to build the other.
Ekko’s chambers weren’t lavish, but they were purposeful, an organized chaos that spoke of a leader always in motion. The space was tucked inside one of the largest branches of the Firelight’s sprawling treehouse hideout. The soft glow of lanterns filled the room, their light reflecting off walls adorned with maps, sketches, and scattered tools. From the small window, you could see the hideout below, a buzzing network of walkways, platforms, and people moving with quiet purpose.
The bed you lay on was makeshift but sturdy, piled with blankets and pillows that smelled faintly of Zaun’s metal-tinged air. Your body ached everywhere. Sharp, stinging pains in some places, a deep, relentless soreness in others. Slowly, you tried to sit up, wincing as the movement sent sharp jolts of pain through your ribs.
Across the room, Ekko stood at a workbench, tinkering with something that sparked faintly under his fingers. His braids were tied back, and his jacket was slung over the back of a chair, leaving him in a simple shirt that clung to his frame. When he glanced over and saw you struggling to rise, his eyes widened, and he immediately abandoned his project.
“Hey, whoa—what do you think you’re doing?” he asked, crossing the room in a heartbeat.
“I’m fine,” you mumbled, your voice hoarse as you tried to wave him off.
“You’re not fine,” he countered, his hands carefully but firmly guiding you back down onto the bed. “You’ve been out for two days, and you can barely sit up without wincing.”
“I can handle it,” you said, though your body betrayed you with another sharp wince as you tried to adjust yourself on the pillows.
“Yeah, I can see that,” Ekko replied dryly, but his voice softened as he knelt beside the bed. “Seriously. You need to rest. Let me help.”
There was a quiet moment as he adjusted the pillows behind you, moving with surprising gentleness. His hands lingered briefly, his eyes scanning your face as if double checking for signs of discomfort.
“Thanks,” you murmured, feeling heat rise to your cheeks.
He shook his head, leaning back on his heels. “You don’t have to thank me. I just… You scared the hell out of me, y’know?”
You glanced away, guilt stirring in your chest. “I didn’t mean to. I just… I didn’t think it would get THAT bad.”
Ekko sat back on the floor, his arms resting on his knees as he studied you. “Why did you do it?” he asked, his voice quieter now. “When I found you, you were hitting yourself and saying all these… awful things. About yourself.”
Your breath hitched at the memory, shame washing over you. “It’s just… something I do when I’m frustrated,” you admitted, not meeting his gaze. “I was angry, at everyone and everything. Y’know, I thought I could make a difference, but I was wrong. I let everyone down.”
“Oh come on don’t say that,” Ekko said firmly, cutting you off. “You didn’t let anyone down. You’re one of the only people from Piltover who actually cares about Zaun. And yeah, maybe you were too optimistic, but that’s not a bad thing. You don’t deserve what they did to you.” His words hung in the air, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. Then, he added, “It’s not safe for you to go back to Piltover.”
You frowned, meeting his eyes. “What do you mean?”
“I’ve been hearing things,” Ekko said, his expression darkening. “Rumors. Ambessa’s pissed. She thinks you’ve betrayed the Council, and she’s not the kind of person to let something like that slide. Word is, she wants your head.” The weight of his words settled heavily on your chest, and you slumped back against the pillows. “So that’s it, then?” you said bitterly. “I can’t go home. I can’t go back to Piltover. What am I supposed to do now?”
Ekko leaned closer, his gaze unwavering. “You stay here,” he said simply. “With me. You’ve got people who will vouch for you for the most part. I’ll fight for you.” Something in his tone made your chest tighten, and for the first time in days, a small, hesitant smile tugged at your lips. “Thanks, Ekko. For literally everything.”
He reached out and gently squeezed your hand. “Anytime .”
, marked with red ink, highlighted the areas where House Arvino’s trade routes intersected with Zaun’s underbelly.
A grizzled Baron leaned forward, his metallic fingers tapping against the table. “House Arvino’s little noble has gone rogue,” he rasped, a sly grin tugging at his lips. “The Council’s after them, sure, but that just makes this all the more interesting for us.”
Another Baron, her voice honeyed but sharp, chimed in. “If we get our hands on them, imagine the leverage we’d have. Not just over Arvino, but the Council and even the Firelights. They’re a walking, breathing key to the chaos we’ve been craving.”
“They’re already in Zaun,” another added, her tone laced with confidence. “All we need is patience. When the time is right, we’ll make our move.” The Barons exchanged nods, their plan unspoken but clear. For now, they would wait, watching, their web of spies and informants slowly tightening around you.
From across the platform, Ekko leaned casually against a railing, watching the interaction unfold. His arms were crossed, but there was a noticeable softness in his gaze, a flicker of something close to admiration.
In the days that followed, the children of the hideout began to gravitate toward you. They tugged at your hands, peppering you with questions about Piltover and laughing at your awkward attempts to keep up with their boundless energy. You found yourself helping where you could, organizing supplies, assisting with small repairs, and even attempting to teach some of the younger ones how to read.
Though the older Firelights were slower to trust, you noticed their glances were no longer as sharp, their whispers not as harsh. You were earning your place here, bit by bit, though it was a far cry from the life you had once known. Piltover, with its grand halls and polished façades, felt like a distant memory now, one you weren’t entirely sure you wanted to cling to.
Ekko, ever watchful, seemed to take quiet satisfaction in your efforts. He didn’t say much, but his presence was definitely there. Whether he was checking on you or working alongside the others. There was a rhythm to life in the hideout, and you were beginning to find your place within it.
Unbeknownst to you, danger loomed closer than you realized. The Chem Barons’ spies were everywhere, watching, reporting back with meticulous detail. Every interaction you had, every movement you made, was noted. To them, you were a pawn in a much larger game, one that could tip the balance of power in Zaun.
“They’re softening,” one spy reported back, his voice low as he spoke into a communicator hidden beneath his cloak. “The Firelights trust them more every day. If we move now, it’ll be too obvious.”
“Let them feel safe,” came the reply, cold and calculating. “When the time is right, we’ll take them. And when we do, House Arvino will learn what happens when they meddle in Zaun’s affairs.”
It was another ordinary morning in the hideout when you decided to venture outside Ekko’s chambers. The soreness in your body was a dull ache now, manageable but constant. As you stepped onto the main platform, the sunlight filtering through the leaves felt warm on your skin, a stark contrast to the chill of Piltover’s marble halls.
You hadn’t noticed Ekko watching you until you caught his reflection in the metal plating of a nearby railing. He was perched on a ledge, his goggles pushed up onto his forehead, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
“You’re staring again,” you said, your tone teasing as you turned to face him fully.
Ekko smirked, hopping down from the ledge with practiced ease. “Just making sure you’re not overdoing it,” he shot back. “You’ve got a habit of biting off more than you can chew.”
You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms despite the ache in your shoulders. “I’m fine, Ekko. I’ve been fine. You don’t have to keep hovering.”
His expression softened, but he didn’t back down. “Someone has to. If it weren’t for me, you’d probably still be lying in the street.” The reminder stung, not because it wasn’t true, but because it forced you to confront just how fragile your position had become. You looked away, scanning the hideout below where Firelights bustled about their tasks. The children’s laughter floated up, a soothing balm to the tension that threatened to settle between you and Ekko.
“I’ve been trying to help,” you murmured. “I don’t want to be a burden. It’s just that…” You trailed off, unsure of how to put the conflict in your heart into words.
Ekko stepped closer, his voice low and steady. “You’re not a burden,” he said firmly. “But you’re not invincible either. And if you keep throwing yourself into danger like this, someone’s going to take advantage of it.” His words hit harder than you cared to admit, but before you could respond, a group of children came running up, dragging you into their latest adventure A game that involved climbing ropes strung between the platforms. You gave Ekko a grateful smile, silently promising him you’d be careful, even if you weren’t entirely sure how.
That night, as the Firelights settled into the quiet hum of evening, Ekko pulled you aside. His chambers felt more like a refuge now than a room, its warmth amplified by the soft glow of firelight reflecting off polished metal and glass.
“You’ve been doing good here,” he began, leaning against his workbench. “The kids adore you, and even the older crew is starting to come around. But it’s not just about fitting in, you know?”
You tilted your head, unsure where he was going with this. “What do you mean?”
He hesitated, his fingers drumming against the table. “The Chem Barons,” he said finally, his tone heavy. “They’ve got their eyes on you now. Your family’s deals with them? Those don’t go unnoticed. And with the Council already hunting you, you’re stuck between two very dangerous sides.”
The weight of his words settled over you like a shroud. “So what do I do?” you asked, your voice quieter than you intended.
Ekko stepped closer, his gaze meeting yours. “Like i said earlier, you stay here. The Firelights are your best chance now. We’ll protect you, but you’ve got to let us.”
You swallowed hard, nodding despite the fear gnawing at your resolve. “And my family?”
“Well they already made their choice,” he said, his tone softening. “Now you’ve got to make yours.”
For a moment, neither of you spoke. The firelight flickered, casting long shadows on the walls. Ekko’s steady presence was a comfort, a reminder that you weren’t as alone as you felt.
You have spent the last few weeks peacefully managing your new life in zaun. As for today, it was surely a day to remember. It had been long but rewarding. You’d spent most of it helping around the hideout, patching up clothes, organizing supplies, and entertaining the children with small stories and makeshift games. Their laughter had been infectious, warming a part of you that you didn’t even realize had grown cold. But now, as the sun set and the last streaks of orange faded from the sky, exhaustion crept over you like a heavy blanket.
Returning to Ekko’s chambers felt like stepping into a sanctuary. The room was quiet, the gentle hum of activity outside muffled by the thick wood and steel walls. The soft glow of a makeshift lamp illuminated the space, casting warm shadows across the worn furniture. The room smelled faintly of oil and smoke, mixed with something earthy. You didn’t even bother taking off your boots, flopping onto the bed with a sigh and burying your face in the worn but surprisingly soft blankets.
Minutes passed, or maybe it was hours. You weren’t sure. You only stirred when you heard the sound of the door opening and closing quietly. Lifting your head, you spotted Ekko standing near the entrance, his figure backlit by the dim lights outside. His jacket was off, his sleeveless shirt revealing the lean muscle of his arms. His hair was tied back tonight, though a few strands had fallen loose, framing his face in a way that made your chest tighten.
“You look dead,” he teased, though there was no humor in his voice. His eyes swept over you, his usual sharpness softened by concern.
“I feel dead,” you replied, your voice muffled by the pillow.
Ekko crossed the room in a few long strides, pulling a chair closer to sit by the bedside. “Long day?”
You nodded, not bothering to sit up. “Rewarding, though. The kids are exhausting, but in a good way. I think I’m finally starting to feel like I’m… I don’t know, contributing?”
He leaned back slightly, his arms crossing over his chest as he watched you. “You’ve done more than enough already. They’re warming up to you faster than I thought they would. Guess you’ve got a knack for making people feel safe.”
His words brought a faint smile to your lips, but your body felt too heavy to do much more than that. “Maybe. Or maybe they just like the shiny Piltover noble playing dress-up as a Firelight.”
“You’re more than that,” he said softly, almost too softly for you to hear. The weight of his gaze drew your attention. Turning your head, you found his eyes fixed on you, dark and intense in a way that made your stomach twist. There was something unspoken in his expression, something raw and magnetic.
“Ekko,” you said, his name slipping from your lips like a warning. He didn’t answer. Instead, he leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees as he brought himself closer to your level. The air between you grew thick, charged with an unspoken tension that neither of you seemed willing to break.
Your breath hitched as his hand moved, not to touch you, but to hover near your face, as if he wasn’t sure he had the right. “You should rest,” he said finally, though his voice was strained, as though it was the last thing he wanted to say.
“I’m fine,” you murmured, though your voice betrayed you. There was a nervous tremor there, one that you couldn’t quite suppress.
“You’re not,” he replied, his tone sharper this time, though the edge was softened by the way his hand dropped to his lap, curling into a fist. “And you shouldn’t have to keep pretending you are.”
You swallowed hard, your heart racing in your chest. He was too close, his presence overwhelming in a way that left you both yearning and terrified. For a moment, you thought he might lean in, that he might close the unbearable distance between you. And part of you wanted him to. But you couldn’t.
As if sensing your hesitation, Ekko pulled back, though his expression betrayed the conflict raging inside him. He rose from the chair abruptly, turning his back to you as he ran a hand over his face. “I need to check on something,” he said, his voice tight.
You sat up slightly, confusion and guilt warring within you. “Ekko, wait—”
“There’s food on the table,” he interrupted, not turning to face you. “You should eat. And…” He hesitated, his hand resting on the doorknob. “I left something for you. Thought you might like it.”
Before you could respond, he was gone, the door clicking shut behind him. You stared at the space he’d just vacated, the room suddenly feeling much larger and lonelier than it had before.
Rising from the bed, you made your way to the small table in the corner. A covered plate of food sat there, still warm, alongside a neatly wrapped package. Your fingers trembled as you opened it, revealing a small, intricately carved pendant in the shape of a firefly. The sight of it brought a lump to your throat. You clutched the pendant tightly, sinking back into the chair as a wave of emotions threatened to overwhelm you. Ekko had left, but his presence lingered in every corner of the room, in the care he’d shown you, in the gift he’d left behind.
You closed your eyes, the weight of the hectic day and the unresolved tension between you pressing down like a heavy blanket. But even as exhaustion pulled you under, you couldn’t shake the memory of his eyes. The way they had looked at you, filled with longing and restraint.
Hours ticked by like an endless parade of thoughts that refused to settle. You sat in Ekko’s chair, knees drawn up slightly as your elbows resting on them. cradling your head in your hands. A sigh escaped your lips, heavy and full of frustration, as your thoughts spiraled into overthinking once again. Why hadn’t he kissed you earlier?
At first, you tried to dismiss it as if it was nothing, just a fleeting moment, something that could be easily explained away by the heat of the moment. But deep down, you knew better. The way he had looked at you wasn’t casual or friendly. It was something more, something intense and unspoken.
Still, you couldn’t help but doubt. Maybe he had been teasing, the way friends sometimes did to lighten the mood. Maybe he didn’t feel the same, and you’d simply read too much into it. But then your mind wandered back to that day in your bedroom. The memory of his closeness as the tension that sparked between you like lightning in a thunderstorm.
Friends don’t act like that.
But then again, why had he ignored you for weeks after that moment? Why hadn’t he said anything or even done anything, to give you some clarity? The questions swirled in your head, each one feeding into the next, until your chest felt tight and your breathing shallow.
You let out another sigh, leaning forward until your forehead almost touched your knees. “What are you doing to me, Ekko?” you murmured to yourself, the words barely audible in the quiet room.
You glanced at the door for the hundredth time, wondering where he’d gone. What was keeping him out so late or rather so early, given the faint light of sun beginning to creep into the room. Would he even come back tonight? Or was this going to be like before, where he disappeared for days, leaving you to piece together the fragments of what you thought you understood about him?
The thought of being ignored again made your chest ache in a way you weren’t prepared to admit. You leaned back in the chair, closing your eyes against the onslaught of emotions. Sleep pulled at you, but you resisted, stubbornly staying awake as if you could somehow summon him back to you. Eventually, though, your exhaustion won. Your head lolled against the back of the chair, your breathing evening out as sleep claimed you.
Ekko slipped into the room quietly, his footsteps barely making a sound against the wooden floor. The sight of you hit him like a punch to the chest. There you were, curled up in his chair, fast asleep. Your face was soft in slumber, but there was a faint crease between your brows. Almost as if even your dreams couldn’t fully erase the tension you’d been feeling. His gaze softened as he took you in, a pang of guilt threading through his chest.
He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Jeez…” he muttered under his breath, shaking his head. Carefully, he crossed the room and crouched beside you. You stirred slightly at his presence, murmuring something incoherent. Without thinking, he slid one arm under your knees and the other around your back, lifting you effortlessly into his strong arms.
You mumbled something again, your head lolling against his shoulder. Which caused him to freeze for a moment, waiting to see if you’d wake up. But you didn’t. He carried you to the bed and laid you down gently, pulling the blanket over you.
As he turned to step away, he felt your hand grab weakly at his shirt. “Don’t go,” you murmured, your voice thick with sleep. He froze in place, his heart pounding in his chest. He looked down at you, your eyes half-open and drowsy but locked onto his.
“You shouldn’t sleep in a chair,” you continued, your words slightly slurred. “And you… shouldn’t leave me like that.”
His breath caught. “I wasn’t going to leave,” he said softly.
You tugged at his shirt again, pulling him closer. He sank down onto the edge of the bed, his face hovering close to yours. “Why didn’t you kiss me earlier?” you whispered, your voice barely audible.
The question hung in the air, heavy and electrified. Ekko’s eyes widened, his cheeks flushing a deep red. “What?”
“When you had the chance,” you mumbled, your voice fading as sleep pulled at you again. “You looked like you wanted to, but you didn’t. Why?”
He swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry. The proximity, the softness of your voice and the vulnerability in your question. It was almost too much to handle. He didn’t know how to answer. Hell, he didn’t even know if he could answer it.
“You were exhausted,” he said finally, his voice hoarse. “I didn’t think it was the right time.”
You hummed softly, a small smile tugging at your lips. “You’re so stubborn,” you whispered, your eyes drifting shut.
He exhaled shakily, his heart continued its rapid pace as he watched you fall back into sleep. For a moment, he just sat there, his gaze tracing the outline of your beautiful face. He wanted to kiss you. God, he wanted to kiss you so badly it hurt. But he wouldn’t. Not yet. Not like this.
Instead, he stood and grabbed the chair, dragging it closer to the bed. He sat down and rested his head in his hands, trying to steady his breathing, to calm the storm of emotions swirling inside him. He stayed there until the drowsiness claimed him too.
You woke to the warmth of sunlight streaming through the cracks in the wooden walls, a golden glow bathing the room. It was already late, half the day gone, by the looks of it. You woke up to the warmth of the sun shining through the cracks on the wooden walls. It bathed the room. You stretched lazily under the blanket, the aches in your body from the past few days reduced to a dull throb. Turning your head, you saw Ekko. Who was still slumped in the chair beside the bed, asleep.
Your brow furrowed as you watched him. His head rested awkwardly on one hand, his legs stretched out, his shoulders slightly hunched. How could he sleep like that? He must’ve spent the entire night sitting there just to keep an eye on you.
How can he sacrifice his comfort like this?
You studied him, taking in the faint lines of exhaustion etched into his features. He looked so tired, so worn down. Ekko carried so much on his shoulders. The Firelights, the fight for Zaun’s freedom, the safety of the kids who looked up to him. And not to mention you as well. It wasn’t fair, you thought. He gave so much of himself and rarely took a moment for his own peace.
You slid out of bed quietly, wincing at the soreness in your muscles, and approached him. Gently, you placed a hand on his shoulder and shook him awake. “Ekko,” you said softly.
He stirred slightly, his eyelids fluttering open, and then he bolted upright, instinctively swatting your hand away. His palm struck yours with more force than he intended, making you hiss at the sting.
“Shit,” he muttered, sitting up fully now, his face a mixture of alarm and regret. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
“It’s okay,” you interrupted, shaking your hand out with a small wince. “It happens.”
He ran a hand over his face, sighing heavily. “I shouldn’t have—”
“You shouldn’t have spent the whole night sleeping in a chair,” you cut in, your tone playful but firm. “Are you crazy? You’ll wreck your back.”
He shrugged, his lips twitching into a faint, sheepish smile. “It’s not the first time.”
“That doesn’t make it better,” you said, crossing your arms.
He gave you a tired chuckle, leaning back in the chair. “I’ll survive. I’ve been through worse.”
But that wasn’t enough for you. Watching him now, the weariness in his eyes even as he tried to act like everything was fine. An idea sparked in your mind, one that you knew he’d hate at first. But it was for his own good.
You grinned, your excitement bubbling over as you clapped your hands together. “I have a surprise for you!”
Ekko raised an eyebrow, intrigued but skeptical. “A surprise?”
“Yep!” you said, bouncing on your heels, your eyes alight with mischief. “But I’m not telling you what it is. You’ll just have to trust me.”
His skepticism deepened. “That sounds like a bad idea.”
“Oh, come on,” you teased, leaning down slightly to meet his gaze. “Where’s your sense of adventure?”
He gave you a flat look. “I think I left it behind when I became the leader of the Firelights.”
You pouted dramatically, placing a hand over your heart. “That’s tragic. Guess I’ll have to help you find it again.”
Ekko shook his head, laughing softly despite himself. “You sure are something alright”
“Yep!” you chirped, grabbing his hand and tugging him to his feet. “Now, come on.”
He resisted, planting his feet firmly. “Wait. I have things to do. The kids—”
“They’ll survive without you for a few hours,” you said, cutting him off with a pointed look. “You need this, Ekko. Trust me.” He opened his mouth to argue, but the determination in your eyes stopped him. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Fine. But you’d better not get me killed.”
You grinned triumphantly, grabbing a scarf from the nearby table. “Oh, and one more thing.”
His eyes narrowed suspiciously. “What?”
You stepped closer, holding up the scarf. “You’re getting blindfolded.”
“Nope,” he said immediately, crossing his arms.
“Yep,” you countered, your grin widening. “It’s part of the surprise.”
“I’m not letting you blindfold me,” he said firmly.
“Aw, are you scared?” you teased, leaning in closer.
His jaw tightened, and you could tell he was trying not to rise to the bait. “I’m not scared. I just don’t like surprises.”
“Well, too bad,” you said, wrapping the scarf around his eyes before he could stop you. He grumbled under his breath, but you could see the faint hint of a smile tugging at his lips.
“You’re lucky I’m weak for you,” he muttered, his voice low and resigned. Your heart skipped a beat at his words, but you quickly brushed it off, tightening the knot of the blindfold. “You won’t regret this. Promise.”
He sighed dramatically. “I already regret it.”
You laughed, grabbing his hand and leading him toward the door. “Come on, leader of the Firelights. Let me lead you away to freedom.”
He followed reluctantly, grumbling the whole way, but you could feel the tension in his hand slowly easing as he let himself trust you. And deep down, you knew that despite his protests, he didn’t truly mind.
Ekko groaned softly as you guided him along yet another bend in the trail. The blindfold tied snugly around his head meant he couldn’t see where he was stepping, which made the journey feel even longer. His feet ached from the uneven terrain, and he couldn’t tell how far you’d dragged him from the hideout. “How much longer?” he asked, a playful but weary edge in his voice. “I’m pretty sure I’ve walked enough to circle Zaun twice by now.”
You laughed softly, your tone teasing. “Not much farther. I promise it’ll be worth it.”
He scoffed but didn’t pull away from your guiding hand. “You said that an hour ago.”
“Well, this time, I mean it!” you chirped, your excitement palpable. “And quit complaining. You’re a leader, remember? A little hike shouldn’t break you.”
Ekko grumbled under his breath but didn’t argue. He trusted you, blindfold and all. Still, his curiosity was killing him. The journey had been filled with faint sounds of nature, quite the opposite to the chaos of Zaun. The air was fresher here, the scent of greenery blending with faintly damp earth. Birds chirped somewhere above, and there was an unfamiliar stillness that made him uneasy in its serenity.
Finally, the sound of running water reached his ears. It was gentle but distinct, the rhythmic splash growing louder as you led him forward.
“Is that a waterfall?” Ekko questioned as he looked around blindfolded, listening with his ears.
“Nope,” you said cheekily, your grin audible in your tone.
“Uh-huh. Sure.”
The moment his boots scuffed against flat, smooth rock, you stopped. You squeezed his hand and stepped in front of him, your fingers brushing against the scarf as you untied the blindfold. “Okay, are you ready?” you asked, your voice playful.
“Depends,” he shot back. “Am I about to fall into a pit of snakes or something?”
You rolled your eyes. “Just hold still.” With a dramatic flourish, you pulled the blindfold away. “Ta-da!”
Ekko blinked a few times, his eyes adjusting to the light. The sight before him was breathtaking. The waterfall cascaded gently down smooth stone, its waters pooling into a crystal-clear basin surrounded by moss-covered rocks. The greenery around it was lush, vibrant, and untouched, with delicate vines draping over the edges of the falls like curtains. Shafts of sunlight streamed through gaps in the canopy, casting a golden glow over the scene. It felt like another world. Like something out of a dream. For a moment, he didn’t say anything, just taking it all in.
“Well?” you asked, bouncing slightly on your heels. “Do you like it?”
“It’s… something,” he admitted, his voice softer than usual. His gaze lingered on the water, the way it shimmered in the sunlight. “I didn’t know there were places like this between Piltover and Zaun.”
You smiled, feeling proud of yourself. “Told you it’d be worth it.”
He turned to look at you, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “I’ll give you that. But…” His expression shifted, concern creeping in. “Should I really be out here? The hideout—”
You cut him off, your tone firm but not unkind. “Ekko.”
He paused, his brow furrowing slightly.
“I’m serious,” you continued, your voice softening. “If you really feel like you need to go back, you can. I won’t stop you.” You hesitated, your hands fidgeting at your sides. “I mean… I’ll understand.”
He studied your face, noticing the way your eyes darted away as if you were trying to hide how much the thought bothered you. You were giving him a choice, but it was clear how much you didn’t want him to leave.
Ekko let out a small sigh, running a hand through his hair. “You’re really bad at hiding what you’re feeling, you know that?”
You glanced up at him, startled. “Who, me?”
“Yes you. But relax,” he said, his tone gentle. “I’ll stay.”
Your eyes lit up, and before he could say anything else, you were practically jumping in place, your joy spilling over. “Really?”
“Yeah,” he said with a small chuckle, watching you with amusement. “Don’t make me regret it.”
You grinned, grabbing his hand and tugging him toward the water. “You won’t. I promise.”
For the next two hours, the two of you wandered the area, exploring the hidden beauty of the place. The tension from earlier melted away, replaced by a comfortable ease as you talked and laughed together.
Ekko, ever curious, peppered you with questions about your life topside. “So, what’s it like being a noble?” he asked, kicking a stray pebble along the path. “I’m guessing it’s all fancy parties and expensive clothes?”
You snorted, shaking your head. “Not quite. Sure, there’s all the glamour, but it’s not as fun as it sounds.”
“Oh?” he said, raising an eyebrow. “Do tell.”
You sighed, nudging a rock with the tip of your boot. “My parents had this… idea of what the perfect daughter should be. Polished, obedient, always smiling. I never really fit the mold.”
Ekko tilted his head, studying you. “Doesn’t sound like you.”
“Exactly,” you said with a wry smile. “I was always too stubborn, too opinionated. They wanted me to follow their rules, and I wanted to make my own.”
“Sounds familiar,” he said, a hint of understanding in his voice.
You glanced at him, curiosity sparking. “What about you? Ever feel like people expect too much from you?”
He let out a short laugh, shoving his hands into his pockets. “All the time. Being the leader, people look to me for answers. For direction. It’s… a lot.”
You nodded, your heart aching for him. “And yet you never take a break.”
“Someone has to keep things running,” he said simply.
You stopped walking, turning to face him. “And what happens when you burn out? What then?”
He opened his mouth to respond but closed it again, your words sinking in.
“See that’s what this is about,” you said gently. “You need to take care of yourself, too, Ekko. Not just everyone else.”
He looked away, his jaw tightening, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he gave a small nod, the vulnerability in his expression making your chest tighten.
Soon the peace of the waterfall was shattered by the faint sound of voices approaching. Ekko froze, his head snapping toward the direction of the noise. You followed his gaze, your heart sinking as the muffled conversation grew clearer. It wasn’t just random passersby. The tone was too low and suspicious.
“Get down,” Ekko whispered urgently, grabbing your arm and pulling you toward the water.
“Ow, hey-!” you hissed back, but before you could argue, he tugged you forward.
The two of you splashed quietly into the cool water, wading toward a large rock near the waterfall’s edge. Its size provided enough cover to hide you both, but your movements felt clumsy and loud in the stillness of the moment. Every splash made your heart race, and every breath felt too loud.
You crouched low, gripping the edge of the rock as you peered out cautiously. The voices were clearer now, distinctly rough and laced with malice.
“… shipments are in place. Should be an easy job if everyone keeps quiet,” one of the men said, his voice gruff.
“Easy? You think dealing with Piltover’s dogs is ever easy?” another sneered.
“Relax. It’s all set up. By the time they realize what’s happening, we’ll already be gone,” the first man replied with a dismissive chuckle.
Your ears were ringing, the adrenaline coursing through your veins making it hard to focus. Your breathing quickened, and the world around you felt distant, the voices blending into an indistinct hum. “Hey,” Ekko spoke quietly beside you, nudging your arm. But you didn’t respond, your mind spinning.
“Hey!” he whispered again, more insistent this time. He leaned in closer, his face only inches from yours. Finally, his voice broke through the fog in your mind. You turned your head slightly, meeting his sharp gaze. Before you could say anything, his hand clamped over your mouth, silencing you.
“Don’t-” he mouthed, his tone firm but his touch surprisingly gentle. His eyes were steady, reassuring, even as they flicked toward the Chem-Barons’ direction.
You nodded, your breathing still uneven but quieter now. His hand lingered for a second longer before he slowly pulled it away, his fingers brushing against your skin. The tension between you was palpable. The closeness and adrenaline, it all made the space between you feel charged with something. You were about to whisper something when the sound of boots crunching against the rocky terrain snapped your focus back.
“Keep it moving,” one of the voices barked. “We’re wasting time.”
The group of men moved on, their voices fading into the distance. Only when the silence stretched did Ekko exhale, his shoulders finally relaxing. He peeked cautiously around the rock, ensuring they were truly gone before turning back to you.
“We’re clear,” he whispered, though his voice carried an edge of lingering tension.
You nodded, still crouched behind the rock, your limbs stiff from staying still for so long. Ekko moved toward the water’s edge and helped you climb back onto the bank. You followed his lead, water dripping from your clothes and pooling at your feet as you tried to steady your racing heart.
“Chem-Barons,” he muttered, more to himself than you. He looked toward the direction the men had gone, his expression hardening. “They’re up to something. And if they’re this close, it’s bad news.”
You wrung out your sleeves, watching him warily. “Do you think they saw us?”
“No,” he said firmly, but there was a flicker of doubt in his eyes. “Still… we need to get back.”The urgency in his voice left no room for argument, and you agreed without hesitation.
The journey back to the hideout was tense. Ekko moved swiftly, his steps purposeful and his gaze darting toward every sound in the dense trees. You struggled to keep up, your thoughts spiraling as your footsteps lagged behind his.
What if the Chem-Barons had seen you? What if they followed you back? Your chest tightened as the weight of your continuous overthinking pressed down on you. You replayed the encounter in your mind, picking apart every detail. Had you been too loud? Too slow? What if something went wrong because of you?
“Keep up,” Ekko called over his shoulder, his voice low but urgent.
You blinked, realizing how far behind you’d fallen. Quickening your pace, you forced yourself to focus on his figure ahead of you, his steady movements grounding you in the moment.
When you finally reached the hideout, the familiar sounds of laughter and the hum of activity greeted you. The Firelights’ sanctuary seemed untouched, the chaos of the outside world unable to penetrate its walls. Relief washed over you, but it was short-lived. Ekko headed straight for Scar, who was leaning against a rusty table, tinkering with a small device.
“Everything okay?” Ekko asked, his tone sharp.
Scar glanced up, his brow furrowing slightly. “Yeah. Quiet as usual. Why?”
Ekko hesitated, his jaw tightening as he glanced over his shoulder at you.
“Oh nothing, just checking.” he said finally, though the tension in his posture remained. Scar gave him a curious look but shrugged, returning to his work.
You lingered near the entrance, your damp clothes clinging to your skin as you scanned the area. Everything seemed normal, the kids laughing, people working on repairs, the occasional drone zipping by. But you couldn’t shake the unease that had settled in your chest.
Later that evening, you sat by yourself in one of the quieter corners of the hideout, staring blankly at the firelight lamp in front of you. Your mind was still spinning, your earlier overthinking creeping back in.
“You okay?” Ekko’s voice broke through your thoughts, and you looked up to find him standing nearby, his expression softer now.
“Yeah,” you said quickly, though the tightness in your voice betrayed you.
He frowned, stepping closer and crouching down so he was at eye level with you. “You’ve been quiet since we got back. What’s going on?”
You hesitated, unsure how to put your thoughts into words. “I just… I can’t stop thinking about what happened earlier. What if we were seen? What if they followed us? What if—”
“Hey,” he interrupted, his voice firm but kind. “Nothing happened. Everything is fine. The hideout is fine.” You nodded, but your shoulders remained tense.
Ekko sighed, running a hand through his damp hair. “Worrying until you exhaust yourself i see.”
“I just can’t help it,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.
He sat down beside you, close enough that his knee brushed against yours. “Look, I get it. It’s a lot to deal with. But we can’t let them get in our heads. That’s what they want—to make us paranoid, to make us slip up.”
You looked at him, his calm determination grounding you once more. “I just don’t want to fuck things over for the millionth time.”
“You won’t,” he said simply, his confidence in you unwavering. For a moment, the tension between you eased, and you allowed yourself to breathe.
The night stretched on, the two of you sitting in comfortable silence. When Ekko finally stood, he stretched and yawned, his usual energy dimmed by the day’s events.
“Well, I’m gonna check on a few things,” he said, though his tone lacked its usual conviction.
You joking said, raised an eyebrow. “Here you go again, always busy.”
He smirked, his usual charm peeking through. “Says the person who can’t stop worrying.” You rolled your eyes but smiled. As he walked away, you found yourself watching him, your chest tightening with admiration. You couldn’t quite name why. The hideout was quiet now, most of its inhabitants having turned in for the night. You eventually made your way to your small corner of the space, lying down on your bed and staring up at the ceiling.
But sleep didn’t come easily. Your mind kept drifting back to Ekko. The way he had looked at you by the waterfall, the way his hand had lingered on your arm when he pulled you out of the water, the way he had stayed by your side despite everything. Ekko, it’s always him. He always even if you tried to deny it, has an affect on you. You sighed, closing your eyes and willing your racing thoughts to quiet.
A wind of cool night air hit you as you slipped out of the hideout. The faint scent of distant rain mixing with the scent of metal and smoke that always lingered in the air of Zaun. Ekko had been out helping with a situation that had gotten out of hand. It had something to do with one of the Firelights getting into trouble, as usual. He hadn’t been there to protest when you quietly slipped out of the hideout, and part of you was relieved. You needed to clear your head, to have a moment of peace where you didn’t have to think about the danger you constantly felt closing in around you. It slowly suffocating you. Unbearable.
You had heard rumors, of course. Whispers and murmurs of people coming after you because of who you were, because of your connection to the topside. They had no idea who you were, only what they thought you were. You couldn’t allow them to find out. But tonight, you weren’t thinking about that. You were thinking about how to live in the moment, even if it was fleeting.
The Last Drop was not your first choice, but it was the closest. The faint buzz of people laughing, drinking, and shouting hit your ears as you stepped inside. Your heart raced slightly, but you pushed it down. You’d taken precautions, after all. The cloak you wore concealed the colors of your family, the opulence that could mark you a target from a mile away. With your hood low, you blended in with the crowd, keeping your gaze focused on the bar, where the noise was loud enough to drown out any attention.
“Drink?” the barkeep asked, raising an eyebrow at you, the flickering light of the bar casting long shadows across his face.
“Something strong,” you replied, trying to sound casual, though your nerves were anything but.
A quick, hard drink was what you needed. You knew the risks of coming here. This wasn’t the safest place in Zaun, but it was the only place that wouldn’t ask questions about who you were. The clinking of glass and the murmur of conversation surrounded you, a blend of voices that blurred into one singular buzz in your head.
You let your gaze wander as you took your first sip. The bitter warmth of the alcohol spread through your throat, giving you a momentary sense of relief, but it didn’t last. Your eyes flicked to the edges of the bar, noticing the way people moved. There was a tension in the air, something off, but you couldn’t quite pinpoint it. Your fingers tightened around the glass as the sensation of being watched crept down your spine.
Before you could dismiss the feeling, something sharp pricked your neck. You froze, the sensation like a needle pushing into your skin. A wave of dizziness hit you instantly, disorienting and deep. You jerked your hand to your neck, but there was nothing to see. No blood, no sign of injury. Just a strange, heavy heat creeping through your veins, seeping into your bloodstream, clouding your thoughts.
The world around you tilted. It was a slow shift at first, just a sense of things being slightly off, but soon it became overwhelming. The air felt thicker, the sounds louder, as though the entire bar was buzzing, vibrating against the space between you and them. Your chest tightened, and a cold sweat broke out across your skin. ‘No. No, this couldn’t be happening. Not here. Not now.
Shimmer. You realized it too late. The telltale signs were unmistakable. That feeling where your body was being pulled apart, your thoughts slowly being smothered by a fog. You clenched your teeth, trying to fight it, trying to keep yourself from losing control.
“Hey, you okay?” a voice broke through the chaos in your mind. One of the patrons had noticed, a man with wild eyes and a drink in his hand. He was staring at you with concern, but you barely registered his words.
“I’m fine,” you said, though it came out more like a growl. You stood up quickly, the motion far too fast for your brain to follow. The room spun around you, the floor swaying beneath your feet like the deck of a ship caught in a storm. Your hands shot out to steady yourself against the bar, but it felt like everything was slipping away.
The bartender moved closer, his voice urgent. “You need to sit down. You’re not looking good.”
But you couldn’t. You couldn’t let them see you like this. You tried to move toward the door, but your legs wouldn’t obey. Each step was like wading through thick tar, the world warping around you. Your vision blurred, and before you knew it, you were on the floor, struggling to push yourself up, your limbs stiff and heavy.
“Help!” someone shouted, but the word sounded distant, muffled, as if coming from underwater.
You didn’t know what was happening to you anymore. The pain in your head started to intensify. No. Don’t lose control. But it was too late. The shimmer was already twisting your mind, and it wasn’t long before the voices began. They started quiet, like whispers in the back of your head, but soon they became clear.
Someone spoke your name. Your father’s voice.
“You never lived up to my expectations, did you?” The accusation burned in your ears. “Always the disappointment.”
You wanted to scream at the voice to shut up, to make it go away, but all you could do was stand there, shaking, your hands gripping the counter as you tried to steady yourself.
“You think you can escape me? No one escapes me,” your father’s voice mocked. “No one escapes their blood.”
The voices overlapped. Shut up. You couldn’t make out the words. You only felt the anger, regret, and shame. You felt like you were drowning in it. The voices kept yelling, taunting you, until you couldn’t tell what was real anymore. You swung at the air, trying to bat them away, but there was nothing there.
Why don’t you listen? You never do what I ask, do you?
Another voice, it was your mother now, cold and distant. “You’re useless to me. Always have been.”
The pain was unbearable. Your head throbbed as you sank to your knees, clutching at your skull, your fingers digging into your scalp in a futile attempt to stop the onslaught of voices. Get out of my head!
You screamed, but it was a scream that only echoed inside your mind. Your body trembled, and you stumbled backward, falling into the chaos that surrounded you.
“Someone get them out of here!” someone shouted, but it was like the words couldn’t break through the fog that had settled over your mind. You could hear them, feel them moving around you, but they were all far away. Then, another voice. This one was different. It was familiar.
“Hey, listen to me.” Ekko. His voice, clear and strong, cut through the chaos. You tried to focus on it, on him, but it was so hard. Your mind was a warzone. You gasped for air, your hands pressed against your chest, your body still trembling from the aftershocks of the shimmer. You looked around, and for a brief moment, you thought you saw him standing there, reaching out for you, but when you blinked, he was gone.
Your vision darkened, the last remnants of the shimmer clouding everything. You couldn’t stand anymore. You collapsed against the ground, your breath ragged as the world spun out of control.
“Ekko…” you whispered, but you weren’t sure if you said it out loud or if it was just another hallucination. The voices faded as everything went black.
part two soon!
taglist: @diffusebread @xxblairslairxx @thesevi0lentdelights @chic-beyond-the-wall-oc-acct @celineandtulips @stuckinaoaktree @fxxvz @jadziulaa @luclue @1intrustivethoughts @finnsky666 @blkmystery @serena6728 @mvistl @kaedeprinz @alientee @ametheslime @turquoizxe @emforjin
banner: @anitalenia
#arcane#arcane masterlist#ekko x reader#ekko arcane#arcane fanfic#arcane fluff#ekko fics#arcane x reader#arcane fic#arcane spoilers#arcane fandom#arcane firelights#arcane ekko#ekko
3K notes
·
View notes
Text
Wishing your child was medicated younger than recommended is disgusting I hope these people die horrible horrible deaths.
I ended up on r/ADHDparenting (a subreddit about parenting kids with ADHD, not about being a parent with ADHD) and Jesus fuck.
11K notes
·
View notes
Text
Overc*mming Writer's Block 3
𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈, 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈𝐈, 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈𝐈𝐈, 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈𝐕
♱⋅── zayne x reader
♱⋅── about: Between being in the midst of your medical residency and being an up-and-coming author, it’s safe to say your personal life has been placed on stand-still. That is, until your editor decided that your next novel needed explicit smut scenes. That is, until your mentor and boss ends up striking a deal for you to help with “inspiration” for said novel. That is, until you fuck Zayne four times and your life changes forever. Partially inspired by manga of the same name by Nae Awaji
♱⋅── word count: 10.8k holy
♱⋅── warnings: mdni, smut, bondage, oral, pussydrunk zayne, PRAISE kink, breeding kink, actual sex this time, no more blue balling, nightly rendezvous card
art credit to @/chimmyming on X
“So, you and Dr. Zayne?”
You damn near choke on your salad. Coughing, you place your fork down before turning to glare at Anvi. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
She smiles, as if that was confirmation enough. “I’ve heard a thing or two from hospital gossips—“
“Vi, you are the hospital gossip.”
“—that the cold, yet steaming hot doctor was finally seen accepting the company of someone else. Not to mention at the gala last weekend he was by your side all night long. Or so I was told.”
Anvi leans in, smiling wide enough to burst her pretty face as you scowl down at your lunch, unable to meet her eyes. Fighting to keep your voice even, you nudge her off, stabbing a carrot. “You’re ridiculous. I’m not involved with Dr. Zayne, he’s too—“ Attentive? Intelligent? God don’t think of him eating you out right now. “He’s not my type.”
You feel your ears burn, but by the grace of some god Anvi doesn’t seem to notice. Pouting she sighs and sinks back into the cafeteria booth. “Aww man, I was really rooting for you, too.”
“Rooting for a nonexistent relationship?”
Anvi’s about to say something, big doe eyes almost frantically darting between yours before she huffs and shakes her head, something akin to pity tightening her smile.
You raise a brow but she only shrugs, going back to picking at her lunch. “Just as well, a relationship between a resident and her boss would be quite the juicy scandal. Something straight out of a romcom, no?”
Laughter rips from your chest, the sheer irony of both her words and your reality too much to bear. Anvi’s windshield wiper giggles join your own, and soon the two of you are wheezing under your breath as you get side-eyed by the other surgeons trying to enjoy their lunch.
Really, whoever your author was had a fucked up sense of humor.
But the moment is ruined by the buzz of your pager, and you barely say bye to Anvi before you’re rushed to the operating bay.
As of today, you have two days to finish your manuscript.
Today's shift was exhausting, but you’ve learned early into your career that writing is a discipline, and as fickle of a muse as inspiration is, a writer cannot simply wait for her to grace you with her presence. Whether you feel like it or not, this book has to get done.
Besides, what better mindset was there to churn out unhinged shenanigans than when you’re delirious and half-asleep, tucked away in the on-call room?
Okay, so perhaps not the best place to be, but logically if your shift finished only minutes ago and you had to page in at five AM yet again, you’re better off just staying here rather than driving back to your apartment and all the way back to the hospital again.
Opening your personal laptop, you tab onto your novel's draft, the flashing cursor taunting you as your editor’s comments blur into an overwhelming mess of red. While you’ve worked your way through just about half of her six-thousand comments, that still leaves far too many, especially on your novel’s villain slash love interest as the trope always goes.
You’re halfway through cutting cringey dialogue on a specific scene, but your thoughts keep drifting. Your conversation with Anvi keeps playing in your mind— romcom, dating, scandal, boss. You suppress the heat rising in your chest, trying to ignore the reality you really don't want to face.
Zayne is… too much. Too intelligent, too caring, too perfect at catching you off guard.
Shaking your head, you try re-focusing, but between sleep deprivation and the realization that you haven’t actually done anything physical with Zayne for nearly a week, you get far too distracted.
It’s not that you haven’t seen him since the gala. Far from it, really. Nearly every night if your shifts happen to end around the same time, he offers to drive you home. And when your shifts don’t align, you always make the effort to cook something together, breakfast or dinner, at ungodly hours of the morning or evening. And if neither of those happened, you would watch a movie, at least for a few minutes till one or both of you fell asleep on your ratty couch.
God, you’re a fool. You can’t help but want him by your side even now, loving the way he reacts to your inappropriate comments, loving the way he scoffs at your jokes, loving the way he notices even the most minute things about you. And yet there’s a distance you can’t explain, a growing space you’re both too afraid to fill.
You close your laptop with a soft sigh, rubbing your eyes as you lay back on the small cot, trying to block out the nagging ache in your chest.
Your phone buzzes from under the cot, and you glance at it absently. You nearly jump at Zayne’s icon flashing on your screen.
grumpy snowman: Under recent developments I’d like to inform you of two things. One, you are banned from the hospital all of tomorrow under strict orders by me. Two, I currently have Mr. Whiskers held hostage, and should you fail to return home by 02:59 I will be forced to perform pulmonary bypass puncture and stop his heart.
Dumbfounded, you stare at Zayne’s text, blinking in confusion. Did your sleep deprivation just hallucinate a text? Violently shaking your head, you look back at your phone with slightly spinning vision just to confirm that no, this was very much real and Zayne has very much lost it.
ms. author: Is this a threat?
Another text follows immediately after.
grumpy snowman: Consider it your last chance. Come back and save him, or else... this may as well be his final night.
An image sends then, your favorite calico cat plushy all tied up with what appears to be Zayne’s tie, dangling the poor thing as though being held hostage. Your gaze lingers for longer than it should on how Zayne’s hands look in the dim lighting of the photo, so busy trailing up the veins on his lithe fingers that you nearly miss his next text.
grumpy snowman: I’ve already called an Uber. It’s waiting outside.
You snort into the empty room, rolling to sit up straight.He’s the last person you’d expect to pull this sort of thing. It’s nothing short of ridiculous, but truly you don’t know the last time you’ve smiled this wide, and it’s precisely the distraction you need right now, especially if he’s already gone through the trouble of organizing it all himself. But like you’d go down without a fight.
ms. author: You’re being ridiculous, you’d never hurt Mr. Whiskers you devil. You don’t have the guts.
His reply is swift, almost immediate.
grumpy snowman: Do I now? Care to test that theory?
You can practically hear the smugness in his text, the playful challenge laced with a quiet but unmistakable sincerity. Your heart gives an unexpected flutter, the weight in your chest easing, if only slightly. Quite a villain, indeed.
You know what Zayne’s doing. He’s not just playing around; he’s pulling you out of your head, out of the self-imposed spiral you’ve yet again been retreating into. You’ve spent the better half of the week in it.
You bite your lip, considering your options. On one hand, you could brush him off—continue working, ignore the text, but something inside of you craves this attention. Craves his uncharacteristic ridiculousness. Craves the break from your mind that he’s offering.
ms. author: If you harm a single fur on my son’s head I’ll put an end to your tyranny myself.
Zayne doesn’t waste a second, sending only a single warning: Hurry.
You stand, grabbing your jacket and keys, and only then do you second guess this. The easy, safe choice would be to stay buried in your work, it would be to politely decline and place must-needed distance and formality back.
But for the first time in a while there’s something you want more than work, and as you slip out of the on-call room, the image of Mr. Whiskers hanging helplessly from Zayne’s tie is enough to pull you out of the hospital.
You push your front door open, the silence of your apartment making the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. The lights are off— odd, considering you could have sworn you left a lamp on. You always do, a force of habit since you live in a slightly less safe area of Linkon. Oh, the things you do for cheaper rent.
Pausing, your eyes scan the deceptively empty hallway and kitchen. Everything feels still, almost eerie, and your pulse quickens as you take your shoes off, right beside Zayne’s much larger dress shoes, to venture further into your apartment.
The faintest creak of floorboards makes you freeze. Your heart stutters slightly, the scare making you grip your chest as you whirl around, cursing out your cowardice. You’ve seen worse things wheeled into the ER. Please, get a grip.
You shake off the nerves just as your phone buzzes in your pocket, breaking the silence once more.
grumpy snowman: You’re cutting it close. Five minutes before Mr. Whiskers meets an untimely demise.
You can't help the amused snort that escapes you, the tension in your body breaking.
ms. author: You really went this far? What now, villain?
The response is almost immediate.
grumpy snowman: It’s a matter of life or death. I hope you're prepared.
Another photo attachment follows—your favorite Christmas blanket thrown over the couch cushions in disarray, the faintest corner of Mr. Whiskers peeking out beneath it. The living room. You shake your head, muttering under your breath about the audacity of smug geniuses with far too much time on their hands.
You make your way to the living room in the dark, you flick on a lamp as you approach the couch. Lifting the blanket to find… nothing but a sticky note.
It reads, in painfully pretty cursive: Nice try, but you’ll have to be quicker.
Another buzz.
grumpy snowman: You fell for that as well? I expected better. Already 02:56, time’s running out.
You scoff, unable to stop yourself from laughing despite the absurdity.
ms. author: Do you even have anything better to do?
grumpy snowman: Not lately. Someone’s been too busy to properly entertain me.
You read it once, twice, and still something in your chest squeezes painfully at that.
Folding up the note, you stare at the text a moment longer before you hear the echoing click of a door. It’s coming from upstairs.
Another buzz.
grumpy snowman: While you’re lost in thought again, care to explain why you’ve been running yourself into the ground?
You pause, stalling as you make your way to your stairs.
ms. author: I am writing.
grumpy snowman: Poorly, if you’re overworking. Can’t imagine the tension’s working out if it’s still stuck in your head.
ms. author: Gasp. Excuse you—
Another buzz interrupts, just as you make it to your bedroom door, old wood announcing your arrival with a groan. The culprit has to be just behind it.
grumpy snowman: 3 minutes remaining. Mr. Whiskers won’t be around much longer.
You can practically feel Zayne’s grin through the phone, and for a brief moment, you’re glad he’s here, even if it’s all in jest. He’s right although you might never admit it; this whole absurd situation—your plushie, the stupid texts, the teasing—has done what no amount of coffee or sleepless daydreaming could.
ms. author: If you harm a single fur on my son’s head, I swear I’ll come for you.
Your hand latches onto your bedroom handle, biting your lip as you pause to type one last jab.
ms. author: I don’t know why I’m indulging you.
grumpy snowman: Because you love it when I win.
A laugh bursts from your lips before you can stop it. Shaking your head, you push the door open.
Your bedroom is dim, the curtains drawn, but moonlight spills through the dusky purple veils, illuminating the bed.
Perched atop lies Mr. Whiskers, your darling calico plushie sitting in the center, fully unharmed even though his crystalline eyes speak of unimaginable horrors at the hands of his captor.
Before you can grab him, movement from the corner of the room nearly startles you into jumping halfway across the room. Zayne, leaning against the wall, arms crossed, watches you with a slight upturned grin that makes your stomach twist.
“You’re a horrible villain.” You huff, all but lunging on your bed to hug Mr. Whiskers to your chest like a shield.
His lips twitch into a smile, the bastard, and you can't help but notice how handsome he looks with his hair a little mussed and his glasses slipping down his nose. He doesn’t have his coat or suit jacket on, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up, a sight you haven’t grown tired of.
God, you really have a thing for forearms. Or maybe it’s just a thing for Zayne.
“Since we’re critiquing each other, you’re not much of a hero. Hiding behind a plushie doesn’t exactly inspire confidence.”
“Confidence isn’t my priority right now.” You clutch Mr. Whiskers tighter, narrowing your eyes. He’s not here to talk about morals and heroism, though. “I’ve been fine. Nothing more than proofreading left… that and a few problem-children scenes.”
“Then consider this me fulfilling my half of the contract,” Zayne says, effortlessly seeing past your usual bullshit. “For someone who claims they’re adequately inspired, you’ve been more distant than usual.”
“I don’t need a lecture.”
“No lecture.” He steps closer, “I just missed you.”
Again, Zayne's words catch you off guard, so blunt they make your chest ache. No empty flattery, no pretty words, simply stated as though they were facts.
He takes another step forward, and you have to lean back on your elbows— nearly lying back on the bed— to maintain eye contact as he looms above you.
And then, Zayne drops to his knees before you.
It’s a far more graceful movement than it has any right to be, all six foot something of him kneeling against the foot of your bed as you instinctively make room for him there. Slowly, his hands come up to your thighs, the two of you slotting together with ease.
“Admit it,” Zayne whispers, the sweet, minty heat of his breath caressing your lips as you shiver, leaning closer despite yourself. “This helped.” A wry smile, “and that I make a convincing villain.”
“What’s this, is the doctor Zayne fishing for compliments?”
“I don’t need compliments. I just want you to stop pretending in front of me– no more performances.”
Heat rises to your face, and your stomach twists. He's too close, he's always too close, but god, why has this domesticity become so natural around him?
Despite yourself, you look down at his hands again, taking in how easily his scarred palms cup your thighs, the pale contrast of his skin against yours. Lithe, long fingers, and the memory of how well they’ve treated you. You swear he must feel your heart pound where his thumbs brush circles against your inner thighs, your body nothing but responsive for him.
But if he does, he spares you the embarrassment. Zayne only continues to look up into your face, and just as you begin thinking of equally inappropriate jokes or fun facts to break the silence, Zayne moves closer, his knee pressing between your thighs as the mattress dips to accommodate his weight.
“Perhaps there is a performance you could help me with, since you’re clearly the expert here.”
You blink, one step behind Zayne’s master plan yet again. “What- help you?”
“Yes. See, I’ve been thinking about my next move as a villain, and…” Before you can even follow Zayne’s words, Mr. Whiskers is yanked from your grasp once more. One hand raises him into the air and the other lunges for your outstretched arms, pinning them to the bed as it creaks and groans under the sudden assault. “I think I’ll take Mr. Whiskers as my captive once again.”
A soft gasp leaves your lips as Zayne shifts above you, his knee grinding up just enough to have you aching between your legs. Everything spins, torn between the desire to rescue Mr. Whiskers and the overwhelming urge to give in, to pull Zayne closer, to finally, finally fuck him yourself.
But before you can decide, the hand pinning your wrists tightens, his thumb rubbing circles as he effortlessly restrains you.
“You’re ridiculous,” you curse, though the tremor in your voice betrays your excitement.
“Ridiculous?” Zayne repeats, arching a brow. “Perhaps you should start taking this seriously, my dear protagonist.” He drops his voice into something rich, dark, and deliciously villainous. The hand that pins you down holds firm, the other dangles your plushie overhead with mocking menace.
You scoff, though it comes out shakier than intended. “I could write circles around your attempts at being evil.”
“Could you?” Unbuttoning his shirt, Zayne gets only halfway before abandoning it entirely, letting the buttons skew across his chest. He watches with a growing smile as your eyes flutter downward against your better judgment. “Then why don’t you show me.”
Zayne nods to your phone, eyes narrowed from behind his glasses. “Open the doc, show me the scene. Any attempts to rescue the captive will be met with appropriate punishment.”
The way Zayne looks down at you, waiting—daring— to see if you would make him stop, sends a sinful flutter through your core, ricocheting up your spine. No longer trusting your voice, you nod and feel the pressure loosen ever so slightly on your wrists.
You only have time to pull your phone out from your scrub’s back pocket before Zayne captures your wrists again, the tie once used on Mr. Whiskers now knotted efficiently right above your wrists. It should be frightening, how easy it is for him to manhandle you, but you feel nothing but painful arousal at that fact.
You’re still growling out faux protests when Zayne plucks the phone from your hands, his knee keeping your hips firmly pinned against the mattress.
“Ah,” Zayne murmurs, scrolling casually through your doc. “A scene involving betrayal, a chase, and…” He raises a brow. “Passionate accusations of treachery.”
You thrash beneath him, trying to buck off his weight as your face burns in embarrassment. “Enough! You’re supposed to help, not—”
“Not what?” He glances at you briefly, lips pursed in a halfhearted attempt to mask his amusement. “Not put your villain to the test? I’ll admit I might have ulterior motives, but you’ll have to try harder than that.”
Zayne then waves the plushie just out of reach before dangling him on the windowsill for dramatic emphasis.
“I swear to god, if you harm Mr. Whiskers!”
He cuts you off with a chuckle. “Hush. You’ll want to hear this.”
Zayne clears his throat, the smirk on his lips unmistakable as he picks up where you left off in editing your manuscript. His voice drops into a faux-sinister drawl as he begins to narrate. “‘You can hate me all you want,’ the villain growled, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. ‘But that fire in your eyes only makes me want to break you more.’”
It's horrible, the way he reads the words, the tone and cadence he gives the prose, and worst of all, the way his unblinking gaze remains completely, utterly, fixed on you as he speaks.
“Zayne, please, don’t- this is embarrassing,” you beg to appeal to reason, still writhing against his tie, when you realize his grip against your hips has loosened.
Zayne’s attention is momentarily diverted as he scrolls through the doc, looking for another section to read, and you kick your knee up with a shout, jabbing it into his side as the two of you tumble across the bed.
Lunging, you manage to grab Mr. Whiskers for all of two seconds before Zayne hauls you up by your bound wrists, forcing you arms above your head as you are pulled back against him. He’s rough, forcing your spine to arch against his chest as you hiss on impact, head thrown back against Zayne’s shoulder. “Ah-ah. What did I say about attempts to rescue the captive?”
His tone is all mockery, grip iron against your waist even though you can tell he’s still holding himself back. Feeling each hot, ragged breath against the back of your neck, the smell of ambroxan and sandalwood surrounding you. You breathe in deeper, shaking despite yourself.
“Let go of me!”
‘’Close. I believe the actual line was ‘unhand me.’”
Zayne hauls you further up the mattress, hooking your bound wrists onto the post of your bedframe as this new position forces you to face the wall, all while his free hand adjusts his glasses, scanning the next few lines. “‘I’d rather die than let you win!’ she spat, her chest heaving with defiance—” He glances at you with deadpan incredulity. “Why is everyone always heaving in these scenes? Do they all have asthma?”
“You’re the worst,” you hiss, breathless from the struggle. See? Heaving, no asthma involved, just foreplay.
“And yet…” Zayne’s voice comes closer, and you feel his bare chest once again at your back, “you’re the one who wrote it. I’m simply giving you an immersive experience.”
“Can’t be fully immersive if I have yet to believe you, villain.” Scoffing, you turn around, craning your neck just to glare him in the eyes. “You don’t have what it takes.”
Zayne chuckles, then silence. Forcing your head towards the wall again, you feel him lean down, still out of sight despite the heat radiating off his body, his nose brushing down your bare throat as he spits out the next line.
“Brat.”
You hate how immediately your body responds to that. How you shiver and lean back despite the restraints, how a part of you wants to fight, to keep the act going, because god, the idea of letting Zayne do anything he wants to you is enough to make your head spin.
Zayne’s teeth press against your neck, just below your ear, and you whine, the sound so small and deprived that you instantly bite your tongue and curse yourself for reacting like this.
So then he does it again.
A pitched gasp.
A broken moan.
Each noise he elicits from you is another cruel victory, and when you grind your ass back against Zayne’s increasingly obvious erection, he all but tears your scrubs down your thighs, the cotton of your panties not standing a chance against his desperation.
In truth, Zayne had never been harder in his life. Did he intentionally pick the most on-the-nose dialogue just to watch you squirm? Perhaps. But he’d be lying if he said seeing you battle against primal desire beneath him, feeling your half-hearted attempts to fight him, accidentally grinding your ass against him with every squirm didn’t make him want to push you even further.
Every breath came out heavy, chest heaving as he continued his performative reading, large palms alternating between slapping and gently squeezing your ass.
“You’re greedy,” a kiss against your shoulder, shucking your scrubs down your knees. “Impatient,” another kiss, this time down your spine, throwing your pants across the bedroom. “And utterly disobedient.”
You’re already stripped bare from the chest down.
He can't deny the sight of you in such a compromising position is a sight to behold, and the urge to keep reading just to see how far he can push you is intoxicating. Panting, he pauses only to readjust his glasses, foggy and slipping down his nose.
You, however, are too impatient.
"Zayne, please, you got your point across. You win. Just— ah, just fuck me already."
It's the first time in nearly a week that Zayne gets to hear you ask for him, beg for him, and it's all the reminder he needs for his body to fail him, shuttering against you with a moan of his own. How did he survive so long without this? Without you?
Your voice rings against his skull, and it’s all he ever wants to hear. Moan his name, beg for him, scream it, call it out, anything. He needs you, irreversibly.
And not just for this.
So instead, Zayne looks back at your doc one last time, reading, “To think this is the city’s great hero. How I’ll enjoy breaking you.”
With a click, your phone turns off, tossed carelessly to the floor with a heavy thud that would have sent you into a panic had Zayne not chosen that exact moment to bite into the soft flesh behind your neck, thumb instantly finding your clit.
The sensation alone is enough to make you cry, arching further up against the bindings. His hand snakes back around your hip, grounding, just barely brushing against the heat of your cunt, and the way he breathes out a low, half-delirious chuckle at the sound of you panting his name has your core fluttering for more.
"Please, Zayne, please," you whine, and the second the pleas leave your mouth, his thumb presses delicious circles into your neglected bundle of nerves. You whine, loud and needy, the second his fingers sink inside, held up only by Zayne’s arm wrapped around your waist and the tie pinning you against the bed frame.
“Already begging? I wonder how much more obedient you’ll be after I fuck it all out of you.” And god, Zayne wanted to mock such an obscenely written line just to watch you blush all over, because what sort of villain would actually say such a thing?
But when he sees you whimper at his words, when you arch so willingly into his punishment, when he feels your heartbeat quicken under his fingertips, he suddenly can’t say he faults any of these romance writers, for he now knows he’d do far worse than any of their cardboard villains.
Zayne doesn’t even need to read the next line in the doc to know exactly what he’d do next.
All but falling to the mattress, Zayne pulls your hips up, up until you’re atop his face, sinking his tongue between your folds before dragging all the way up to your clit, sucking with enough tension to make you scream.
Your hands burn from where they chafe and fight against the tie, bucking violently against Zayne’s face, the cold kiss of his glasses frames making you jolt as he pulls your hips toward him like it’s the last thing keeping him sane.
“No,” Zayne groans between breaths, unable to part with you as he messily kisses your inner thigh before coaxing two fingers inside you with a thrust. “Don’t run. Do not run from me.”
Every scissor of his fingers forces obscene sounds from your cunt, silenced only by Zayne’s mouth and his own muffled praises. Granted, it didn’t matter how loud he was being, not with all of your delirious moans, completely unsuppressed as Zayne’s calculated ministrations took you apart thrust by thrust.
At least you can remember being thankful that your apartment walls were sound-proofed. Breath ragged, mind spinning, only mindlessly fighting back as you babble, “Wait, you’re so- ah- fuck. Zayne!”
Quite canonically to your villain, Zayne’s hips buck into empty air in time to every thrust of his fingers, imagining it was his cock fucking deep into you instead. It’s a line he’s fantasized about crossing time and time again.
But that’s where it stops. Fantasy. Because just the thought of it has Zayne groaning into your cunt, the taste and feel of you alone driving him insane, a point of obsession where he cannot allow himself to go any further. He can’t. He can’t, he really shouldn’t.
He’d never recover, he’d never stop wanting— needing you. He’s addicted enough as is.
Zayne’s shirt had almost fully unbuttoned but his trousers remained, bulging as his cock wept from its prison against his thigh, fabric dark and painfully restraining. The mere friction was too little and overstimulating all at once. Even so, he can’t help but chase the phantom feeling, grinding against nothing as you fall apart above him.
When your shaking thighs finally begin to lock around his jaw, he welcomes the cage, burrowing his face deeper as the strong arch of his nose presses against your throbbing clit. Zayne’s slick fingers are delegated to merely keeping your hips still, his tongue fucking you through your orgasm as his hips follow your same rhythm.
One touch, one touch is all he needs to cum with you, but Zayne refuses to do anything but work you through your high. He swallows the taste of you, open-mouthed and needy, a moan rumbling deep in his chest as you feel it hum through you.
Gasping, you look down, and immediately you feel your core flutter— the sight enough to have you wishing he was back in between your thighs already.
Zayne’s entire body shakes beneath you, dark hair mused and hands digging into your hips in ways you know will leave half-moon marks. But what has you trembling is the sight of his hazel eyes eclipsed to near black, completely blown out and teary as they try and fail to focus on anything other than your pussy still fluttering above him. Something you can barely see at all, not with the amount of cum that squirted across his glasses, foggy and skewed across his nose as it too glistens with your release.
It’s an obscene picture you only get for a moment before Zayne chucks his glasses off just to place a closer, deeper set of kisses on your cunt. Practically chasing every buck of your hips, he happily lets you ride his face until your room begins to blur yet again, weightless and utterly fucked.
You’re panting, vision still coming back in waves as you register Zayne untying your hands, all the while kissing the light bruises that remain.
And yet you can hardly think of anything other than the fact that he still hasn’t properly fucked you.
“Zayne,” you call, and god, something in your chest squeezes at just how fast he whips his head around, already ducking to meet your eyes as he scans down your face. There’s worry etched into his features, his eyes scanning yours like he’s already bracing for whatever you’ll say next.
“I’m sorry, I knew I should have taken better precautions. If your hands hurt I can get a salve from—”
“Fuck me.”
Silence.
Zayne blinks, his mouth parting and eyes squinting as though he misheard– or somehow misread– you.
“What?” he manages, his voice barely above a whisper.
You sit up on your knees, pulling off your shirt one swift movement so you’re completely naked, then lean forward until your noses nearly touch, his eyes dropping to your breasts. The boldness only shakes him further. “I’m sorry, I can’t let you run away this time. I want—” Reaching your hand out, your fingers trail down Zayne’s bare chest, hardly even pushing for him to fall backward. And for you to follow on top. “I want to do this for you. I want you.”
Zayne’s breath is deceptively steady, and if you couldn't feel the ragged rhythm of his chest, rising and falling as it burns against your palm, you wouldn’t have believed he was affected at all.
“You don’t-wait- have to—” he starts, but his voice breaks when your fingers trace the curve of his ribs, lips following suit as you place gentle kisses down his sternum, his slender abs, dangerously close to the v-line dipping into his pants that you can’t help but lick, smiling in delight as his words finally fail him.
“Neither did you. You’re rather stubborn, doctor,” you insist, soft but unwavering. Resting your head against his thigh, you coax his jaw down to look at you, the palm still resting against his chest finding the erratic thrum of his heartbeat beneath your touch. “Let me take care of you for once. Don’t you know good patients listen?”
Zayne huffs a quiet laugh, the sound strained as he looks down at you, right side of his lips curving into a faint smirk despite the way his body seems to ignite at your touch. “Bringing in our professional titles seems a little underhanded, don’t you think?”
“Ah, but it got your attention, didn’t it?” You don’t let him stall anyone— already he’s managed to keep this from you for weeks, really it’s a shame you haven’t stripped him earlier— letting your tongue trace the dip of his hip once more, humming as his muscles tense under the sudden attention.
Greedy, your lips continue to worship every sharp edge and curve of Zayne’s abdomen, hands busy with his buckle until you manage to find a particularly sensitive spot just above his right hip bone.
All his composure, all his calculated confidence, you want to break it apart until there’s nothing left but Zayne. Just Zayne.
Zayne inhales sharply, eyes screwing shut as his mouth falls open in a picture of perfect debauchery you want etched into your mind forever. One hand fists into the sheets beside him, the other flying to your hair as your kisses turn to a dizzying mix of licks and nips. Hard enough to mark, you bite into skin, tongue flicking between your teeth, echoing across the room alongside the wet sounds of your mouth at work.
“Ah, fuck.”
Cursing already? Perhaps this would be easier than you thought, but where’s the fun in that?
You pull back, watching Zayne blink in confusion as his hips twitch up toward your mouth, and you have to force back a laugh as he stares, bewildered, like he can hardly believe the sight in front of him.
His voice comes out huskier than before, low and coated with desire. "Why did you stop?"
You pull back just enough to look up at him, cheek resting on his thigh as you play with his zipper, never looking away from Zayne’s eyes even as they flutter closed in frustration, desperate for more. Tension practically radiates off of him, but you only smile, taking your time as you trail your fingers away from his zipper and bulge, teasing the sensitive edges of his hip and the skin peaking just over the edge of his trousers.
“Don’t worry, doctor,” you murmur, your voice low and teasing. “I’ll be sure to complete your procedure just as thoroughly as you did on me.”
Oh, and Zayne must realize how utterly fucked he is, for you won’t be letting him go not until you’ve adequately paid him back for all the times he’s deliberately edged you to the point of tears, all the times he’s reprimanded your attitude, all the sweet punishments you’ve ensured that you’re going to give back to him tenfold.
But before he can try and sweet-talk his way into mercy, your teeth catch on his zipper, dragging it down as your free hand unlaces his belt, tossing it across the room by the time his bulge presses out from between the metal teeth all on its own.
Achingly hard already, and you haven't even begun.
The fact that you know he’s this hard just from eating you out certainly doesn’t help.
His boxers are soaking, the obvious bulge only emphasized by the way the damp cotton seems to stick to him, and god does the size of him make your core flutter.
Maybe next time you’ll get him to come just by eating you out.
Next time, though.
Without warning, your fingers wrap around his cock, freeing it from the confines of his boxers. A hiss grits out through Zayne’s teeth as his jaw clicks and a vein thrums against his neck from the pressure.
You're so used to having Zayne above you, between your legs, teasing you senseless as his fingers or tongue bring you to the edge over and over again. And now, here he is. Spread out, and all yours to ravage.
The realization alone has you throbbing, prior orgasm all but forgotten as you feel the want burn between your thighs again.
If only he could see how wet you were already.
How could he not, with the way your hips were rocking against his still-clothed thigh, searching for the friction he wouldn’t give?
And yet, despite your impatience, your eyes never leave Zayne, watching the way his muscles flex as he resists the urge to move, ever obedient for you.
"Good boy," you purr, meaning only to tease him further, but instead of the faux glare or inscrutable comment you were expecting, Zayne tenses beneath you, his cock jumping against your palm. Your eyebrows raise, a breathless giggle betraying your intentions as you lean in closer.
"Oh? Do you like that, baby? Being told just how perfect you are for me?”
You're not sure what's more arousing, the fact that Zayne is practically coming undone at your words, or the fact that he hasn't denied a thing.
God, his body feels hot. The mere praise has a dusky blush racing down his gorgeously sculpted chest all the way to the tips of his ears, his bottom lip tucked between his teeth as he looks down between the two of you, to where you’re still teasing the weeping slit of his dick. He moans before he could even stop himself. Fuck.
Shivering, Zayne reaches out to grasp your wrist, and for a moment you think he's going to put a stop to your little power trip. But his hand only comes up to guide yours, urging you to pump his cock a bit faster, stopping to put more pressure against the base, and you can't help but smirk knowing he must be truly desperate if he's already rushing you to jerk him off properly.
"My, my, doctor. I suppose I’m not the only one who’s been holding back.” You click your tongue, a teasing edge to your voice. "Were you really so desperate to feel me around your cock, hmm?"
Hazel eyes narrow at the pure filth behind your words, but you see the furrow between his brows, the way Zayne’s throat bobs as he throws his head back with a choked groan. If he looks so damn pretty now, you wonder what kind of faces he’ll make when he cums.
“You truly are horrible,” He groans, hesitating, hands clenching into the sheets before they fly up to your waist, gently bucking his hips into your awaiting palm. “Mhm- please.”
You hum, lazily sinking to your stomach so your bare chest presses against his still-clothed thighs. With each stroke you can feel his muscles twitch beneath you, see the way his jaw clenches and unclenches, the way his hand guides yours, tightening and loosening, urging you to go faster, harder.
Your mouth waters, and the urge to taste him is far too tempting to resist.
Plus, you’ve had enough with denying yourself, and more than enough of Zayne denying himself as well.
So right as Zayne’s head rolls back against the pillows you rock forward, licking a slow stripe up his dick, up between the gap of your fingers where they grip his base.
Zayne chokes on his breath, hand immediately tangling in your hair, rough enough that it has you wrenched away with a breathless whine. He groans, words shaking out in breathless huffs, “You, hah- this isn’t, fuck—”
"Ah, ah, pretty boy, let me take care of you, yeah?" You fight to come back to him, smiling as Zayne’s grip immediately loosened, and you kiss his tip in thanks.
Rubbing teasing circles into his thighs, your thumbs then move up, tracing his v-line, addicted to the way his muscles tense under your nails and to the red lines that follow. It makes you want to mark him up more. So you do, with your nails again, then with your teeth and tongue.
“Look at how- shit- how excited you are for me. So pretty.” You lean forward, pressing wet, messy kisses just below his navel and all around his already sticky thighs, heady and coated in pre-cum.
Another bite, and you squeeze his balls with just enough pressure as you watch his eyes roll back in time. "I'm going to make this so, so good for you, baby.”
Zayne all but sobs at that.
Every carefully restrained thought breaks completely at the praise, a raspy moan grinding through his teeth before his jaw falls open with every ragged huff of breath.
“Mhm that’s it, you’re doing so well,” you say, smiling at the way his cock twitches, violently leaking, pre-cum pooling into your palm and dripping down your wrist. “So pretty, so perfect just for me.”
With one last kiss on Zayne’s tip, your hands steadies itself against his abdomen before you kitten-lick around the tip of his cock, and then greedily shove as much of his throbbing erection as you can down your throat.
Zayne tenses, gasping, and the sound sends a thrill down your spine. You press further, tongue flattening along the underside of his shaft, and fuck he’s so thick you nearly choke, forgetting to breathe in through your nose as the lack of oxygen gets to you embarrassingly fast.
If only you had some more time to properly adjust, you'd force him to the hilt without a doubt. But patience has never been your virtue.
You’re already edging yourself with every slow grind of your clit against Zayne’s thigh, and you can feel his desperation in every throb along the underside of his cock in your mouth, letting his tip hit the back of your throat, breaching as deep as you could allow.
Zayne begins to buck forward only to freeze halfway, a low hiss leaving him as his hand twitches against the sheets, knuckles turning white as he fights his own self-restraint as you urge him deeper into your hot mouth. Trying to pull you off him, Zayne’s hand laces through your hair as a warning, large enough to cup the back of your neck entirely, but the action only lets you take him further.
Then he makes the fatal mistake of looking down at you, locking eyes with your teary gaze as you maintain eye contact before licking up his length, and then swallowing him back down, crying as mascara and drool runs down your chin. His hips stutter upwards, and then he catches the shallow bulge now pressing against the base of your throat. Up and down and back again.
The sight breaks him.
He throws his head back with a whine, and fuck, his sounds thrums against your skull, reverberating through your very being as he snaps, hips bucking wildly into your mouth, his powerful thighs trembling around your head. You’re being used as nothing more than a fucktoy now, hands scrambling for purchase against his abdomen for a semblance of control as you take it.
Fuck, maybe it’s the praise, because you make Zayne want to be greedy with the way you were gagging and choking around him.
The mere feeling of you drooling around his length, the way your moans come out muffled and wet with drool and his slick, like a messy kiss to his cock, has his hips stuttering deeper, arching up into your body until Zayne can practically feel the spark of his orgasm behind his eyes.
But no, that won't do.
After all, you won’t be satisfied until he’s finally fucking himself inside you tonight. He can’t cum anywhere else. You won’t let him.
And right when you feel his cock go rigid, you tighten your hand around the base, and pull off.
Heaving, you shakily prop yourself back onto your elbows, Zayne's length glistening with saliva between your bodies, twitching violently and leaking all across his abdomen and your chest from its angry red tip.
“S’pretty, Zayne.”
Zayne moans, hips chasing after the heat of your mouth, hissing when all he feels is the cold air. He wants to protest, wants to ask for more, but you shush him with a kiss.
Your tongue laps across his skin, tracing the ridges of his abs, lapping the pre-cum and sweat that gathers there. You lick a trail, following the sharp cut of his hips.
"What, is that all you can take?" you ask, a teasing smirk on your face.
Zayne curses, a frown tugging at the corner of his lips. “Depends.” His voice is fucked rough, raw, and you never want him to stop talking. ”Was that the full treatment?”
You hum, biting the inside of his thigh. He gasps, and it turns into a deep groan when you press an open-mouthed kiss over the forming mark.
“No,” you admit, “You’re not escaping until I get to watch you come undone.”
You smile at the shudder both your words and actions draw, the way his fingers tighten in your hair. “Ah, but not here. In me. I want you to fill me up, baby, make a mess of me. I can take it, I promise. And when you're done, I'm going to ride you until you come again. Sound good, my pretty boy?"
Zayne throws his head back with a moan, eyes squeezed painfully shut as though he can’t decide if this really is real or if a succubus was haunting his dreams to every sinful memory he has of you.
Zayne leans into your touch, following your palm as he nuzzles into you with a huff of hot breath. A little like a kitten in a man's body— a sexy body no doubt— but you wonder, not for the first time, if the reason he always holds back is simply because he was afraid. As you were. Until Zayne came to you, until he showed you what pleasure felt like.
So you take his face in your hands, forcing him to look at you, and then kiss him.
He lunges up to meet you halfway, licking into your mouth, fisting into your hair, breathing in every moan and whimper of his name as he hums it right back. Needy, so damn needy for it.
You smile through the kiss, grinding up and down his muscular thigh alongside the desperate smashing of mouths. Tongue-heavy, teeth scraping, sucking at the corner of your lips. So fucking hungry for you that he’s practically lifting you right off the mattress with just one arm.
His mouth distractedly chases down your throat leaving opened-mouth kisses before slotting back against your lips, hot and demanding and urgent.
“Zayne, ah—” you’re cut off with another kiss, “Mhm, please, need you,” another, Zayne looping two arms around your thighs, hiking your knees up to his shoulders, the stretch burning. “Need you in me, now.”
He moans into your open mouth at those words, eager enough that he chases you up, nearly pinning you beneath him until you break the kiss with a gasp, shoving him back down. Zayne whines at the break of your lips, brows furrowed as his back hits the mattress, trapped under you once again, panting.
"Need you, pretty boy." You whisper against his lips, and it sounds just like a promise. "Please, let me take care of you.”
Zayne takes a shaky breath, nodding, drunk on the praise and readjusts himself against the pillows. He watches, eyes half-lidded, as you straddle his waist. Rough hands find your hips and hold them steady as you settle climbing atop him, the head of his cock rubbing between the folds of your soaked cunt.
It isn’t lost on you how Zayne can barely stop staring at the slick that trails down your thighs, all of it coating his shaft in slick as your pussy hovers over him, connecting the two of you in wet, sticky strands.
"Like what you see, doctor?"
You lick down the milky column of his neck and Zayne groans, leaning back to grant you access. "You and your smart-ass mouth."
“You love it.”
Ya, he does. He could probably cum just from watching you like this.
Leaning forward, you line his cock up with your entrance, smirking at the way his eyes narrow, heart racing beneath your palms as you balance yourself on his pecks, shamelessly groping them.
"Do you have any idea how many times I've thought about this? How many times I've imagined riding your cock, hearing the sweet noises you make as I make a mess of you?"
Zayne opens his mouth, as if to say something, but whatever it is doesn't matter, not as you guide the swollen red tip of his cock through your folds, thick tip pushing and sliding past your entrance, unable to fit even with your combined slick. Teasing, swollen pussy lips drooling right down onto his leaky head when just a simple nudge of Zayne’s squirming hips would end this torment and have you fucked flush against him— raw.
"Please," he groans, his voice raspy and hoarse, eyes fluttering closed, glassy with lust, "I can't- I can't take this. Please,” a low moan of your name has you delirious, and god, you’d give him anything he’d ask for. “I admit it, I need you. So please.”
Were you more than happy to oblige.
Lifting yourself all the way up on your knees, you steadily apply more pressure to your entrance, working yourself further and further until you could feel your slick drip down your thighs and his cock, each movement now accompanied by an unholy squelch. You slide his cock over your cunt—back, then forward—stimulating your clit with the head each time he fucks it through your folds, desperate as your movements become rougher and more forced.
Zayne’s cock catches against your entrance once again, and a low, breathy moan escapes his lips. He could feel your cunt finally yield to the pressure of his large, overbearing cock, could feel the way your legs trembled, threatening to give way, and he can't help but wonder if this is how you would look, how you would sound and feel, when he fucked you.
As soon as he feels the flutter of your core against his tip, he knows he’s lost, the head of Zayne’s cock sliding into you with a lewd pop as you both moan.
"Mhm, yes," you moan, voice a high-pitched keen. "Just- ah, like that."
Zayne bites his lip, fingers digging into your hips, and fuck, after being edged not once but twice today he already feels deliciously overstimulated and close, too close.
So it certainly doesn't help when you rock yourself up onto your knees, then drop yourself all the way back down his shaft, taking him all the way in until his balls slap against your ass.
You even don't wait for either of you to adjust before doing it again, and the velvety hot squeeze of your cunt has Zayne seeing stars.
“Ah, f-fuck, oh, shit. S’good Zayne,“ you coo, "Feels so good, fuck."
You’re dripping down your thighs, gushing around him like a vice as he watches his cock disappear into your cunt with a creamy white ring already at his base.
It’s all turning Zayne delirious with the way you continue to feed him compliment after compliment. It’s all so much, too much, and a low moan is forced out of Zayne’s chest as he begins rocking his hips up to meet yours, hardly even letting you pull out before bullying his way back into you.
Fuck, you can feel him everywhere, his cock hitting your cervix, your walls stretched tight around him, a mixture of his and your slick pooling onto his abdomen as you chase your way up and down his length.
But god, what you feel is nothing compared to how absolutely wrecked Zayne looks.
His eyes are screwed shut, chest rising and falling rapidly, the flush from his ears having spread to his gorgeously marked-up chest, his neck, the angry red tip of his cock. His brows are drawn together, jaw clenched, the muscles in his neck and shoulders strained as he holds himself back, every part of him curling up to meet yours and press you down, closer.
But then he turns away, eyes screwed shut as you feel his tip jerk against your cervix once more.
No. No, no, no that won’t do.
Zayne has watched you come undone countless times. He’s been a worshiper and witness to pleasures you didn’t think you could feel, and this time, you want him to be the subject of all your adoration. To finally give him back all the love he’s taught you to feel and more.
So you lean down, cupping Zayne’s cheek with one hand as you continue to ride him. “Look at me, baby. Y-you're so, fuck, so big, Zayne, fuck—” You gasp a sharp breath as he twitches violently inside you at the praise, slurring your words. “Mhm, love your cock so much."
But you doubted he could hear you— fuck, you wouldn’t even be able to tell if Zayne was breathing at this point if it wasn’t for the throbbing of his cock against your walls in time to his erratic heartbeat— because his eyes rolled back into his skull, jaw slack as a silent moan rips from his chest, shuddering down his spine right before his hips snap up into yours, throwing you off balance, pinpointing your g-spot with cruel accuracy as you scream.
Your sounds and babble of praises have him dizzy, eyes half-lidded and hazy as he struggles to focus on your face. It almost looks like he’s about to cry, dark lashes wet with unshed tears. You’d tease him for it, had you the capacity to think at all. But no, each thrust continues to bully into that sweet, spongy spot inside you as you moan, and Zayne’s mouth falls open with a cry of his own.
You chase into it with a kiss, clashing your teeth as you feel his tongue lap against yours, sucking hard. You feel the wrecked, blissed-out smile on your face, breaking away from him just long enough for Zayne to see how ruined and turned on he’s making you.
"Y-you're close, aren't you, my sweet boy?" You ask, the words coming out strained as Zayne fucks up into you. Pumping upwards, it’s like he wasn’t even trying every time his weeping head rams your sensitive spots. Just stuffing you full of his cock he denied you for so long, furious enough to mold you to his very shape. "C'mon, cum for me, Zayne. In me, please–ah."
You pull away even as his lips chase yours, arching your back so that your full weight grinds back on his hips. Zayne all but whimpers at the change in angle, his hands gripping the bed sheets as he tries not to starve off his orgasm.
"Please, please," he groans, his jaw clenching.
"Look at me, Zayne."
He does, and his pupils are so blown, his eyes nearly black.
"Cum for me, baby," you beg again, grinding down against him as his hand comes up to grope your chest the same moment your palm leaves to cup his balls, and that's all it takes.
Zayne comes, a cry ripped from his throat, his cock throbbing inside of you. You can feel the sheer warmth filling you, his seed spilling out and leaking onto the sheets, and god, there’s so much of it that cum squirts out from between the two of you, splattering up his abs and your thighs.
He’s trembling, head falling back as his hips jolt and stutter, still fucking up into you as though it can’t bear to part. You’re probably not helping with the way you still rocking on his length, your cunt milking his orgasm, and he can't take it, it's too much, too fucking good, he can't stop, never wants to.
But, fuck, one look at his face, and you already want him to cum again.
Zayne looks like sin, sweat slicking his hair to his forehead, his body writhing and straining as he gasps for breath, his skin shining in the afterglow of his release. The muscles of his neck are taut, veins pulsing and straining, his lips bitten red. He is fucking gorgeous, and the thought that he has done this for you, to you, has another wave of arousal shooting up your spine.
“You…” Zayne’s brows pinch together, but his voice is low, dangerous. Unyielding. “You didn’t cum.”
“I already did, besides I-I ah, Zayne—!”
You’re cut off by your own pussy, lewd squelching accompanying every brutal thrust Zayne overstimulates the both of you with, bullying his own cum out of you with each rhythmless thrust back in. He plants his feet into the mattress, thrusting his hips up as you claw at his shoulders, chest, the slap of skin on skin ringing in your ears.
“No, that isn’t-” Zayne’s words slur, feverish and mindless as his gaze zero’s in to where the two of you meet, the sound of every wet, messy thrust and the slight bulge he now sees in time to his thrusts. “Not enough. With me. Please, hah, cum with me, love.”
Transfixed, one hand drifts to the bulge at your navel, and before he can stop himself, he grinds the heel of his palm against it. Immediately, overbearing pressure shoots up your spine, a broken scream leaving you as you tremble above him, arching violently forward.
You try and speak, protests leaving as nothing more than garbled whimpers as you claw at Zayne’s wrist, trying and failing to pry his punishing grip off you.
He doesn’t relent.
How could he, when you’ve finally given him yourself? When this was everything he’s denied himself and more?
Fuck control, fuck discipline, fuck holding himself back. Zayne wants you.
Vision blurry, drool dribbling down the corner of your mouth, your combined cum gushes out of your overfilled pussy and spreads in a lewd little pool beneath you. It’s all you can do to take it, Zayne overstimulating the both of you to insanity, but his hips keep the same punishing rhythm. Two slow, deep thrusts before something snaps and he hammers into you twice. Thrice. Then begins all over.
It’s effortless, the way he bounces your body up and down with one hand, the other remaining pressed against your abdomen, massaging the outline of his dick showing through with every grind forward, rolling your clit between his forefinger and thumb.
Large hands splay your thighs wider, closer, impossibly stretching you out until all you can feel is Zayne, Zayne, Zayne. You don’t realize you’re chanting his name out loud too. And you never felt more gloriously out of control than when he abruptly jerks his thigh upwards– driving you right along with it– hitting your cervix all at once.
There’s no rhythm. Not anymore. You’re hardly lucid, dropping your full weight down just to meet Zayne’s cock as he pulls you down prone atop of him to catch your mouth in an open kiss as he hits your g-spot again. And again. And again and again and—
“Love,” he all but moans it into your lips, low and broken and oh so addicting. “My love, please.” God, he’s still so painfully hard but the feeling of you fluttering around him, getting tighter each time he calls you love, must be a sort of heaven. “Please– hah, fuck– cum. Cum all over my cock.”
You whine, surging forward to kiss him again, and he feels it, couldn’t do or think of anything but it as you cum around his cock for the first time.
Zayne’s eyes open even as you continue to suck and lick into his mouth, brows furrowed and vision blurring, lost in every hot pulse of your walls as they coaxed him further and further in, your release squirting against him as you struggle to drag your hips off him again, pussy sucking his cock in deeper, unwilling to let him go.
Shaking, his hands find their way back to your hips, settling over the light bruises as he guides you up and down again, startling you as you moan into his lips.
“Zayne,” you whine his name between kisses, strings of spit snapping between you, Zayne chasing hazily after your mouth before you cup his face in your hands.
God, the sound of his name on your lips is enough to have him keening, pressing his forehead to yours as his entire body trembles.
You’re coming again before you even realize it, vision spinning in and out as Zayne continues to fuck you through it. Zayne makes a noise, something between a moan and a whimper, his hips slowing despite himself.
You're gorgeous, the sight of you atop him, still slurring out compliments, and it's too much, fuck, too fucking much, too fucking perfect, his perfect woman.
With a final snap of his hips, Zayne comes alongside you.
His orgasm has him gasping and his entire body bows forward, arms wrapping around your middle as he buries his face in your shoulder, kissing into the tender flesh as he just keeps cumming.
He can't find the need to hold back this time. Not when the pleasure is so intense that his vision is turning white, not when your cunt is hot and pulsing and clenching around him, not when the praise and encouragement keep pouring out of your lips, whispering into the crook of his neck, "good job, Zayne, such a good boy for me, you did so well, my sweet boy, my love, hah, I love you."
When you finally come down from your high your body is sore and aching, the feeling of his hot cum deep inside making you whine, the sensation so much better than his fingers or toys, so much more warm and full.
Zayne’s arms are wrapped protectively across you, hugging you down atop of him even as his cock remains motionless within you, not an inch of skin untouched as his hands rub careful circles down your spine and thighs.
You nuzzle closer, whispering more nonsensical praises into Zayne’s hair, raising a shaking arm to comb through it as he still keeps his face tucks into your shoulder, hidden and shaking softly still.
A shift, and you feel his hot breath on your neck, a sudden drop of wetness against your skin, and you realize with a start that Zayne is crying.
He’s crying. Soft, unrestrained sobs muffle into your shoulder as he tucks you close, burrowing his face into the crook of your neck between breaths. You let him. You curl up as close as you can get onto his lap and then closer still, one hand raking through his hair in gentle reverence as you let him cry.
It is silent, save for the sound of his sobs and his labored breaths.
"I love you, Zayne," you say, as if it was the easiest thing in the world. "You really are perfect, thank you, thank you."
You kiss his forehead, then down his cheek and jaw until he finally relaxes under you. Tracing lazy patterns up and down his chest, you coax him down until he finally raises his eyes to meet yours with a flutter of tear-stained kisses to your palm.
The first thing you notice is the way his cheeks are flushed, his eyes wavering and hazy. The second is the way his lips are swollen, the marks on his neck and chest blooming darker with each passing minute. The third is how the sweat on his skin is beginning to dry, making his hair stick up in all sorts of directions.
The fourth is the look on his face.
The look on his face is soft, tender, and unsure. Nothing like the infallible surgeon the whole city reveres, or the smart-mouthed mentor you’ve grown to admire and respect. Just Zayne.
You brush the damp locks away from his eyes, pressing a chaste kiss to his forehead, the tip of his nose, and finally his lips, and he melts, his body falling forward onto you as he curls you into his side, tucking you down onto the bed alongside him.
“Stay with me?” He asks, his voice low, as though afraid to ask. Afraid to know.
Always.
“You can’t get rid of me that easily.”
#𝖕𝖔𝖎𝖘𝖔𝖓 writes#lnd zayne#lads zayne#zayne x you#zayne x reader#zayne love and deepspace#lnds smut#l&ds smut#love and deepspace smut#lads x reader#love and deepspace zayne#poisonwrites#zayne smut#lnds zayne#l&ds zayne#zayne lads#love and deepspace#nightly rendezvous
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
Colonel's Girl
You’re the young army nurse on base and König decides to keep a protective eye on you. You don’t mind at all, the Colonel is sweet and safe - until he isn’t.
masterlist 🩷 ao3
tags: military inaccuracies, blood and injury, angst, smut, oral sex, vaginal sex
This was your first time on a real military base. You’d done field medic training of course, but this was the first time in your career as an army nurse that you’d been shipped out to base, far from home, calling a tiny bunk room your own in a building full of rowdy young recruits.
Their daily training brought them to you constantly with scrapes and bruises and concussions. They were feisty, adrenaline-fuelled young men, and you were one of the few women on base. The catcalling and the leering didn’t surprise you, even if it was unwelcome.
“What time do you get off, darlin’?” Private Turner drawled in a cockney accent as you applied butterfly stitches to a bleeding split across his eyebrow. “Maybe I can come to your room and we can keep each other company-”
“Turner!” It was barked, a stern command from an accented voice. The private paled as Colonel König stomped into your clinic, and you blushed. König was a very imposing man. He was at least 6”9 by your reckoning, and just as broad, in his late 30s or early 40s with a thick Austrian accent. His years of military training had given him a thick, muscular frame, with his broad thighs barely contained in cargo trousers and steel-capped boots on his feet, a black tee stretched over his chest and biceps the size of your torso. You knew what he looked like under that hood, square jawed and piercing blue eyes, but today he’d kept it on, his eyes framed and dark. It was no surprise you blushed whenever you saw him.
“Colonel?” He stood and turned. His voice held none of its previous bravado. Next to König, he looked like a mere boy.
“Two weeks of toilet cleaning duty.” König said gruffly, “and if I catch you using that kind of language again, it will be a month. Understood?”
Turner slumped. “Yes, sir.”
“Get out of my sight.”
Turner, chastised, scampered out of your clinic without looking at you.
König turned his hulking form towards you and actually had to look down to greet you.
“Pardon, ma’am. He won’t step out of line again.”
Ma’am . Your blush deepened. You gave him a small, nervous smile.
“Thank you, Colonel, that’s very kind of you.”
“These boys don’t know yet how to respect a lady, but they will.”
“Once you’re done with them?” You smiled playfully.
“If I have done my job correctly.” He said kindly, before turning on his heel and leaving swiftly. You giggled.
You didn’t see much of König at the start of training, his rank and his experience meant that he didn’t end up in your clinic as much as his recruits did, but when you did pass each other in the hall or by exchanging paperwork, he was nothing less than a courteous and charming gentleman. It seemed bizarre, considering you’d heard tell that he was a brawling killing machine out on the field, but he could switch from barking stiff orders to giving you a gentle smile that made you blush in the blink of an eye. You had to routinely remind yourself that this didn’t make you special, he was just being respectful, and you weren’t used to that. It didn’t matter that he was a soldier, or nearly twice your age, it didn’t take you long to develop a crush on the handsome and mysterious Austrian.
A few days later and you were stood in line to the mess hall. It was breakfast, and you’d seen the black pudding in the warming trays as soon as you’d stepped in. You were practically salivating as you waited, it wasn’t often you got a creature comfort like this - something that reminded you of home - on base.
“Not often we get this kind of luxury, eh, miss?” You recognised the coarse accent before you turned. Lieutenant Riley had joined you in the line, a balaclava covering his face. You knew him a little, the infamous Ghost. You’d crossed paths with the 141 on occasion, and you knew Riley, sometimes even Captain Price, dropped into the base to provide training or engage your services. It wasn’t out of the ordinary for him to make polite conversation with you. In fact, it seemed the norm here. The high rankers felt a bit sorry for you, while the recruits made you feel like a piece of meat or an object of ridicule.
You didn’t mind much, you were here to do a job, and you kept to yourself mostly anyway, but the offer of friendship was much appreciated.
You smiled a little shyly in return. “I know, right? I hope the black pudding doesn’t go too quickly. I’ve been thinking about it all morning.”
“A girl after my own heart.” The lieutenant chuckled. In front of you, two privates who had been turning around to eavesdrop on the conversation - more to get a look at Ghost, than you, you understood - burst into laughing at your admission. Your ears turned red and you wished you’d never opened your mouth.
Riley didn’t seem to notice, he was holding his gloved hand out to König, who had somehow appeared next to him in the line since you’d looked away. You actually had to do a double take. For a near seven foot slab of muscle, he was stealthy when he wanted to be.
The two of them talked among themselves in low voices and you left them to it, knowing you didn’t particularly want to hear the contents of whatever they needed to discuss.
You reached the front of the line and the private in front of you - the one who had laughed - piled his tray high with black pudding until the warming tray was empty. He turned and smirked mockingly at you.
“You can have my sausage, darlin’, if you ask nicely.” At least three recruits laughed. You wanted to shrink down so small you stopped existing altogether.
König’s brick hand clamped around the private’s tray and wrenched it easily from his grip.
“Sir-my breakfast…”
“Get out of the line, or I will feed you my fist.” König didn’t even raise his voice, the cold delivery had the private skulking off empty handed. König placed the tray back onto the counter and then he turned to you.
“Help yourself, ma’am.”
“Oh.” Your cheeks were crimson. He cocked his head, his eyes, the only part of his face visible through his black hood, looked amused. It wasn’t unkind. “T-thank you.”
König tipped his hood towards you before turning his attention back to Riley, and the pair of them moved off to a separate table. You sat by yourself, chewing your black pudding, and smiling like an idiot.
You glanced over to König a few times more than you would like to admit. He put you at ease, that’s what it came down to, it gave you a confidence you didn’t usually have around military men.
It was that very ease that left you wholly unprepared for the following week.
It was ballistics training out on the grounds, and you caught wind of an accident halfway through your sandwich.
“Come quick!’ An officer skidded into your office, “there’s been an accident - potential fatality.”
You cursed, and gathered your supplies, before following him out of your clinic and out onto the training ground. Recruits stood nervously holding rifles, their half-shot targets abandoned. A young recruit was wailing on the ground, another kneeling beside him and pressing against his belly with a jacket, there was blood on the sand.
König was towering over a young private - the same young man who had laughed at you in the mess hall, you briefly noted - and barking bloody murder in his terrified face. It took you more than a moment to realise that König wasn’t actually speaking German, you could just barely make a word out in his fury.
It was easy to tune out, you’d been out in the field before, and turn your attention to your patient. You knelt beside the terrified looking private stemming the bleeding, and carefully lifted his jacket to look at his wound while the young man screamed.
“You’re going to be okay.” You said confidently, calmly. “It’s nothing we can’t stitch up. Private, keep putting pressure on the wound, just like this, you’re doing a good job.” Just this once, you were obeyed without question.
“I will have you court-martialed, dummkopf, you could have killed him. You come onto my base, you do not listen to a word I say, and now you attack my men? You sorry piece of -”
“König,” you cut through the accented remonstration, pulling bandages from your bag, “I need your men to carry him to my clinic immediately, then you have to-”
König turned swiftly to you, those bright blue eyes visibly narrowed in the slits of his hood. “Do not fucking give me orders, nurse.” He seethed, voice ice cold with rage, fists clenched and towering over you. “You address me as Colonel, you little girl.” The white hot fury in his eyes matched the venom in his voice. You baulked, in fear, in surprise, horrified to realise tears were gathering in your eyes. You looked back down on the man in your arms and forced yourself to regain your composure.
“I need to get him to my clinic, I can’t lift him myself.” Your voice was steady, if muted, throwing your gaze over your shoulder at König and the recruits staring at you. “Please, colonel .”
König turned from you and began barking your orders at his men and within moments, your patient was being carried between three recruits back to your clinic. You turned and rushed after them. You extracted the bullet from his ribs and sewed up the damage as numbly as you treated any one of your patients. You left your makeshift surgery room with bloody hands and sweat on your forehead, surprised to find König leaning against the wall in your waiting room. He’d stripped out of his uniform to a simple pair of combat trousers and a black shirt that looked like it was losing a fight with his bicep muscles. His hood was held lax in his hand, giving you a rare glimpse at his face. It was no surprise to you that he looked exhausted. He pushed himself from the wall when you entered. Like a gentleman , you thought bitterly.
“Will he live?” He asked you, his voice soft. It was just like every other interaction you’d had on base.
“It was a flesh wound. He’ll be fine, Colonel.” Your words were stiff, and you walked straight past him without even a glance, feeling like a complete idiot that you’d ever thought he might treat you with the slightest bit of respect. You were angry until the adrenaline wore off, then you cried in your bed.
The recruit, Jenkins, pulled through the night, and the next day he was airlifted to the nearest hospital. The accidental shooter was gone, and you didn’t care to ask what had happened. Training was halted for a few days as a result and you had a quiet week, but you weren’t complaining, as you now had a mountainous amount of paperwork to complete. You were grateful when you were able to file the heft of paper into your pigeon hole to be sent off, and rewarded yourself with a sit down in the breakroom to the main office.
You looked up on instinct more than anything when the door opened. König walked in, in combat boots and a military vest, his hood over his eyes and helmet strapped to his head, like he’d just come straight from deployment. He glanced at you with tired blue eyes, but all you could see was the fury in them when he’d scared you the week before. You felt stupid for thinking someone like König would ever be nice to you. You were just the idiot girl on base.
“Morning, ma’am.” He said pleasantly when he saw you, slipping one hand into his trouser pocket as he poured himself coffee from the pot on the table.
“Hey.” You replied, voice flat, suddenly finding your nails remarkably interesting.
“Is everything okay?”
“Fine.” Another one word answer. You still weren’t looking at him.
König shifted uneasily. The atmosphere in the room changed. Of course it did, he was used to you being a blushy, smiling, pathetic mess for him.
Concerned, König crossed the small space to you. He didn’t sit. From what you could see from your lowered head, his hand was no longer in his pocket.
“If this is about what happened…you did well, Jenkins will recover.”
“I know I did fine.” You genuinely didn’t mean to snap. “I don’t need you to tell me that.”
The conversation went dead, the atmosphere was palpable. You didn’t know whether it was his culture, or his military status, but König went right to the point.
“Have I offended you?”
Was he being willfully obstinate? You felt your humiliated aggravation grow. Well, you were in it now.
“Just leave me alone.”
There was a pause. And then another. Neither of you moved.
“As you wish.”
He left swiftly after that, and you finally looked up at the empty room. You felt relieved, but also hollow. It was almost like you’d done something wrong. But you hadn’t, had you? König’s coffee was abandoned on the table.
König left you alone, and that pissed you off even more. He walked past you in the mess hall, he didn’t glance down to smile at you anymore, he didn’t come into the clinic, even though you secretly hoped he would. Your self-esteem was pretty much on the floor after that, and the base got just that little bit lonelier.
Two recruits barrelled into your office a few days later, one had a busted lip and they both had black eyes. They'd clearly been in a fight, but whether that was with each other, or someone else, you didn’t care to ask. You stayed quiet as you applied butterfly stitches to their cuts, and they were happy enough to complain between themselves.
“You’re a dickhead, Williams, the Colonel’s gonna fucking kill us.”
“Relax, he’s not going to know.”
“He’s been such a dick lately. He put Taylor on shit detail for a fortnight for having his shoelace untied.”
“Probably because he has to look at your fucking ugly mug every day.”
“You’re done.” You cut across. “You can go.”
They thanked you and left, and you were grateful to get the foul mouthed privates out of your office.
It was getting dark outside and you were tired. You left your clinic and crossed the training ground to the mess hall. There were still soldiers out here, practising hand to hand combat under the floodlights. You gave them a wide berth.
You didn’t see the abandoned dummy grenade wedged in the sand until your foot hooked around it and you vaulted over with an unladylike grunt.
A large hand curled around your wrist and stilled you before you ate dirt. You cursed under your breath and turned inward. König was towering above you, your wrist positively dwarfed by his gloved hand. His hood obscured his face, shrouding him in the darkness behind him, all except those bright eyes looking down on you.
“You should be more careful.” He grunted, releasing your wrist.
Your eyes hit the ground and you mumbled a hasty ‘sorry’ before you scampered away to the mess hall. König watched your retreating back as you left.
The next few days passed uneventfully. You worked, you ate, you slept, you called home. The clinic was surprisingly empty. You wondered if the recruits were finally becoming competent enough that they didn’t need you every five seconds. You signed off your discharge sheets for the day and headed to the main office to dump them in the output box. You were surprised to find König in there, sans hood, rifling through a box of papers on the desk. He glanced up when he saw you and his expression wilted. He looked back into the box.
“I’ll be out of your hair in a second.” He said. “I just need to find the instruction manual for the - s cheiße .” The papers in his hand fluttered to the ground. He bent down to retrieve them and winced, arm circling his broad torso.
You frowned and took a step closer to him.
“What’s wrong?” You asked.
“Nothing.” He replied instantly as he straightened. His movements were slower than usual.
“It doesn’t look like nothing, König, it looks like cracked ribs.”
“It’s fine, really.”
You put your discharge forms on the desk and walked up to him. “Lift your shirt.”
König sighed but complied after a moment. He lifted his dark tee to his pectorals. His deep abdominal muscles rose and fell under his breathing and you found your cheeks reddening under the sight. A makeshift bandage was wrapped around his torso, and you reached out and lifted it. His skin was like lava against your fingers. He didn’t say a word as you lifted the bandage but he may have winced when your eyes widened. The right hand side of his ribcage was purple with deep bruising and lacerated with deep and shallow cuts alike, some were healing, and some were leaving blood stains on the inside of the bandage.
“Oh my god, what happened?”
“Nothing.” König grunted. “Machine gun training. One of the recruits lost control of the barrel and clocked me in the ribs. It is just a scratch.”
“This cut needs stitches.” You said automatically, tracing the underside of the welt with your fingertip. König jolted and you took your hand away. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you-”
“You didn’t.” He replied.
“I have cream that’ll reduce this bruising too-” König huffed and you looked up at him. You couldn’t quite decipher the expression on his face. He might as well have been wearing his hood.
“It is fine.” He said. “The bruising has disappeared a lot in the last few days…”
“ Days ?” You blinked. “Days, König? You can’t have been walking around like this for days. Why didn’t you come to me?”
There was a pause. He was trying to avoid your gaze.
“You told me to leave you alone.”
“König,” it was reprimanding, reproachful, your eyes slackened. “You always need to come to me when you’re hurt, even when I’m mad. I’m sorry.”
König’s eyes snapping to you made you regret the words as soon as they were out of your mouth. Your gaze dropped to the grazes on his ribs but your cheeks were already on fire.
“Are you ever going to tell me why you are mad at me?”
You didn’t meet his gaze. It seemed pathetic now. “You yelled at me.”
König didn’t respond straight away. When he did - “I yelled at you?”
You fought off the sudden urge to say sorry.
“When Jenkins was shot.” You explained. “I’m not one of your soldiers. I don’t like being screamed at, especially when I’m doing my job.” Your voice dropped a little. “And I’m not a little girl, I’m a nurse. You should respect that, just like the way you tell your troops to.”
You glanced up at König, he looked crestfallen. “I…” He frowned a little, as if giving up on any explanation he planned to give. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
You shook your head, embarrassed, and lowered his shirt.
“It’s not important now-”
“It is important. I don’t think you are a little girl. Sometimes in battle, things like this become heated. I do not even remember saying this to you, but I am sorry. I do not think that, I truly do not, I was…one of my men was dying, I was not myself. Please forgive me.”
Your eyes met. It felt like the first time you’d looked at each other in a long time. König’s blue eyes were soft and sad.
“Um, come to the clinic, this afternoon,” you rose, flustered, “I, uh, that cut needs looking at.”
You turned swiftly and left but not before you heard König utter a single ‘yes ma’am’ before you did.
You thought about what he said as you sterilised your clinic for his arrival. Maybe it was just the heat of the moment, but you managed to keep your cool? Why didn’t he? Because he’s a soldier, you reminded yourself. He kills easily and without thought, he’s not the sweet gentleman you want him to be. You shook your head to yourself, that wasn’t the issue and you knew it. You didn’t care that he was a killer, or that sometimes he scared you. You knew what his easy dismissal of you meant - and it hurt.
König reported promptly to your clinic at 1pm that afternoon. He stripped out of his shirt and sat patiently down on the end of your bed and you had to pretend like having a 7ft goliath of a man stripped down in front of you wasn’t making your heart race. He truly was extraordinary.
You stitched the large cut on his ribs that was worrying you the most and he didn’t make a sound. it didn’t much surprise you, you assumed he was accustomed to pain. It made your stomach flutter with something .
He was even more impressive undressed, his body heavy with swollen, toned muscle, faded scars criss-crossing over his flesh. You had to remind yourself that you were a trained nurse just to stop yourself from drooling.
König watched you work rather intently. “You have very small hands.” He remarked suddenly. You didn’t respond, unsure if it was a compliment or not. You both lapsed into silence for another long while. It was like a form of torture. You’d never been more embarrassed in your life. You felt like a foolish little girl, trying to play with a grizzly bear. It must have shown on your face.
You didn’t expect König to talk again. He must have thought that you were insane - pathetic, at the very least.
“May I ask you a question?”
Oh. “Of course.”
“Why did you join the military if you hate being yelled at?”
You sighed and finished off your final stitch. “You don’t have to mock me, you know, I already got the message.”
“I am not mocking you. I’m curious.”
Forthright . You forgot.
You took a moment to respond, busying yourself with packing away your equipment. “I didn’t join as a recruit, I joined as a nurse.” You didn’t tell him the real reason, that it was because it was him.
“Right.”
“It’s not your problem.”
König stood, and pulled his shirt back on. “It won't happen again.” He said. “You have my word.”
Your gaze flicked to his handsome face involuntarily. “Um, here’s the cream. Make sure to apply it twice a day, and try to take it easy for a few days.”
König grunted, a ghost of a smile on his face. You could tell he hadn’t taken it easy a day in his life.
“What message?” König asked suddenly.
“Sorry?” You froze, trying to backtrack to that particular exchange.
“You said you ‘got the message’.” He repeated. “What message?”
Oh.
“Um, did I say that?” Your voice was uncharacteristically high. König tilted his head.
“Schatz, my English isn’t that bad. We both heard what you said.”
You blushed and your head dipped. You didn’t know much German, but you knew what ‘schatz’ meant.
“Well, you know-” fuck, shit, fuck . “P-put in your place by the guy you have a crush on. I get it. I got it. I won’t go there again.”
“Crush?” König responded like a lightning strike, before he fell silent. His brain was calculating, before his expression turned to…well, there was no other way to put it, absolutely fucking floored. “You like me?”
Oh, this was very fucking bad.
“Well…yeah? I thought it was obvious-”
“Obvious? Schatz, I thought you hated me.”
You blinked.
“Wha- why would you think that?”
“You told me to leave you alone.”
“You called me a little girl! In front of everyone.”
When exactly had you both gotten so close to each other? It was close enough that König could look down on you, and your heart was skipping a beat.
“You can’t like me.” He said quietly.
You frowned. “Why not? Have you looked at yourself? Plus you’re…you know, nice, and the only person in this dump that doesn’t leer at me or treat me like a stupid little girl. When people aren’t dying, I mean.”
“I…” Was König hesitating? The man who had nothing to fear?
“It’s okay,” you murmured, embarrassed. “Like I said, I get the message. Why would you want a pathetic sap like me who can’t even hear a raised voice without crying?”
“Do not say that.” König looked uncertain, his eyebrows knitting together. “You are like a...a flower. Not meant for men like me.”
“A…” Your brain couldn’t quite compute what you’d just heard. “Men like you? What does that even mean?”
“You need someone younger, for a start.” He sighed. “Someone who has seen less death, verdammt, someone who has caused less death.”
“Men like your idiot recruits, then?”
König didn’t respond.
“I have to go.” He said instead. “Thank you for the…cream.”
“Anytime, Colonel.” It was softly spoken, you watched him freeze, then you watched him go. You smuggled a bottle of wine back to your room and drank until you fell asleep. This really was a new low.
…
The days passed slowly and without incident. On the face of it, there was no difference in you, except for a notably lacklustre delivery of your care.
You were making notes at your desk when Private Jackson and his buddy, Williams, appeared at your desk, complaining of a groin injury.
You rolled your eyes and returned to your paperwork. “I’m sure it’ll feel better tomorrow, private.”
“I’m sure it’ll feel better right now if you kiss it-”
“Shut up,” Williams chuckled, shoving him, “you wanna get a disciplinary? You know she’s the colonel’s girl.”
Your gaze snapped up. “What did you just say?”
Neither of them answered you, they just sniggered and slunk off. You watched the empty doorway with wide eyes. You tried not to ponder on it. You pondered on it for the rest of the day.
…
You signed the bottom of Williams’ sick leave and ticked off the various appropriate boxes, flipping the page and hoping that was all that was required until you froze. It needed the signature of the patient's C.O. König. Shit.
You hadn’t even seen König since he’d rejected you and every time you thought about that particular exchange, your ears went hot and you wanted the ground to swallow you whole.
You were too much of a pussy to talk to him, so instead you went to his office when you knew he was scheduled to be out at training, and scribbled ‘ sign me please :) ’ on a post it note, stuck it on the front page and left the form on his desk.
You turned for the door with a relieved sigh and accidently walked into König’s solid chest. He was standing in the open doorway, he was the size of the open doorway, wearing his combat gear although he was unarmed, his hood draped covering his face, even so, you could see he was looking down on you. It wasn’t until you glanced up that you realised he was ducking to fit in the doorway. That sent heat right to your cunt.
“Oh, hello.” You said stupidly, eyes hitting the carpeted floor.
“Hello.” He greeted you, accent gentle. “Can I help you?”
“Oh, right, I’m in your office.” You stumbled over your words. “Um, W-Williams needs sick leave approved, he needs gallbladder surgery off base, I need you to sign the form. I - I left it on your desk.”
König walked past you, he smelt of sweat and sand and some sort of hastily applied deodorant. He seemed unfazed that you were in his office, he certainly didn’t seem to be trying to avoid you as ardently as you were avoiding him. You cursed yourself for being so childish.
He removed his hood and draped it over the back of his chair as he picked up the form. His eyes were darkened with war paint, fresh stubble on his jaw.
“A smiling face.” He remarked as he read your post it note, voice muted. “The way yours used to be.”
You blinked. “Is that meant to be some kind of joke?” You asked hotly.
“Not at all.” He replied, not looking up from the form. “It used to brighten my days.” He signed the form and held it out to you before you could really process what he’d said. “Let us hope Williams makes a swift recovery, he is one of my best.”
You tentatively took the form, mind drawn back to the last encounter you’d had with the young private.
“He called me…” You bit back your sentence before you had a chance to finish it. But the damage was done.
König’s back straightened, his fists clenched. “Something inappropriate?”
“No.” Your shoulders hunched. Why did you even bring it up? “He said I was…they’re calling me…you know…the colonel’s girl.”
You glanced up at König shyly, to see if there was any truth in it. His back had relaxed, but his stance was still guarded.
“What?” You asked.
“I told the recruits to leave you alone.” He admitted. “Or there would be consequences.”
“Oh.” You blushed. “But, that’s not a bad thing, is it?”
“No, it’s not…some of the men have interpreted the order to mean I am keeping you for myself.”
You took a bold step forward.
“And are you?”
König looked at the floor. You sighed and turned for the door.
König’s large hand curled around the front of your throat before you could turn and drew you back, right to his mouth. You whimpered into the kiss. You were forced onto your tiptoes to meet him, feeling his fingers against your oesophagus with every exhale. His lips eased wetly and insistently against yours until you were dizzy, gripping his arms and pressing yourself closer.
As soon as it started, it was over. König released your throat and took a step back. You had to blink a few times to regain just a few of your senses. You were still on your tiptoes, and you could still taste him on your mouth. Gunpower, and mint.
“I’m sorry.” He said. “I shouldn’t have done that.” His voice was ragged, his accent even thicker than usual. Fuck, it was hot.
He turned and left before you could even articulate a response, but you were sure you saw his back muscles twitching as he went.
…
The deployment for the first active mission came about quicker than anyone had been expecting. It was practically a dummy mission, you’d been told, leading a team of recruits on a sweep near cartel lands for stray activity or potential landmines. Still, the atmosphere was palpable in the base, the recruits were scared, you could tell.
You watched from the doorway of your clinic as the men stood by the jeeps, ready to roll out. Riley had returned, and he stood next to König as the latter zipped up his kevlar and clipped on his helmet over his hood. You wanted to wish him luck, even though you knew everything was going to be fine. It was a routine sweep, and he was König, he wasn’t in any danger. Still, your stomach pulled. Fate was cruel. What if this was the last time you ever saw him?
You scrunched your eyes shut, called yourself an idiot, and jogged across the sand of the training field.
Riley saw you first, he knocked König on the chest to alert him - you tried not to read into that - König turned, face obscured, body heavy with kevlar and weaponry. He had to lower his head to look at you.
“Schatz?”
Your insides ached at the familiar term of endearment that you didn’t deserve. Your mouth was as dry as the sand you were stood on, and you suddenly didn’t know what to say. Don’t go? Come back? How could you say any of those things to the man who didn’t want you.
König solved your problem for you. His fingers closed around your tricep, and his thumb stroked just once.
“Look after yourself.” You said quietly.
He nodded before he dropped your arm. Then you watched as they got into the jeeps and drove away.
…
The recruits were returned to you on a daily basis. Apparently, the drop point of the sweep was particularly hot for cartel soldiers, ready and willing to engage in battle. The wounds you were treating now were not the cuts and scrapes of training, it was cracked skulls and broken bones and lacerated flesh. And the men, Turner, Williams, Jackson, they weren’t the scrappy, joking lads they’d once been, they were crying and they were scared.
You slept when you could but you were always exhausted. You were waiting for the first time one of them died on you.
You were awoken that night by a loud, insistent banging on your door. You jumped out of bed and tied your robe around yourself, already gathering your hair up to tie it back.
“What’s happened?” You called, opening the door, “who is it…oh.”
It took a moment for you to realise that you weren’t staring at the pitch black of night, but rather directly at König’s chest. He stood in a dark shirt, helmet removed, hood covering his face, head disappearing behind your doorway, but his blue eyes were bright and wild and looking down at you.
“König! You scared me half to death. Get in here.”
You stood aside and König ducked his head and walked, actually stomped, his way into your room. You prayed you didn’t have any stray underwear on the floor. His shirt sleeves were short and you could actually see his arm muscles thrumming.
“What’s happened?” You frowned. “What’s wrong, König? Talk to me, please.”
“There was an I.E.D.” He replied, accent thick. You couldn’t imagine what his expression looked like. “Ghost saw it before I did. He pulled me out of the pathway. The fucking thing exploded five feet in front of my face. I could have died. I am a fucking idiot.”
“Oh, König, you…you didn’t die, and you’re not an idiot, okay? Every soldier misses…”
“No, schatz.” He walked forward, backing you against the wall. You swallowed when his large hand came up, pressing your collarbone back against the wall. “I’m a fucking idiot because I could have died without doing this.”
One hand curled around your hip and lifted you effortlessly, and you gasped as you had no choice but to wrap your legs around his waist - it was a stretch, he was so broad. König wasted no time slamming you into the wall next to your bed with enough force to rattle your bones. You squeaked, but that was all you managed to do. He pushed his hood up to his nose and captured your lips with his.
Your eyes crossed and closed as you groaned, wrapping your arms around his neck as your lips slid against his. This was nothing like the first kiss - that was chaste, hurried, this was luxurious, long, wet and slow, the whole world went quiet as König pressed his tongue between your lips and lapped at yours with sure strokes that had you whimpering. Your fingers tangled in his hood as he kissed you like that, and you forgot everything else.
He hitched your legs around his waist and you whined, muffled, as you felt a solid lump pressing up against your clothed crotch. You didn’t care – you ground down on him as you met his tongue with yours. He growled into your mouth and it reverberated through you, before he was pulling back, kissing along your jaw and grinding his cock against your heat harder than before.
Then his eyes were on you, piercing and bright through the dark hood, the fabric sat askew on his top lip, his lips pink and swollen with your spit.
“I want you, schatz.” He said bluntly.
“I - I want you, too.”
Your consent was all he needed. Suddenly you were airborne again, and you clung onto him as he lowered you onto the belt and knelt between your legs. The bed actually dipped under his weight and you blushed.
“K-König,” you murmured quietly.
“No,” it was short, and stiff, as he yanked your night shirt down by your collar hard enough to rip. You yelped as the sound of fabric tearing filled the room and suddenly your tits were exposed. You whimpered in embarrassment but he’d already grabbed them in his rough, gloved hands, squeezing and rubbing, flicking and pinching your nipples between his fingers.
“Hhhh, fuck.” You blushed, biting your lip as your underwear moistened at the rough treatment.
“Fuck, do not tell me they are sensitive.” König’s voice sounded wrecked.
“Please,” it was a whisper, “please be gentle.”
“Wanted to get my hands on you for too long.” Was all his reply was as he squeezed your breast again and leant down, using his hand to guide your nipple into his exposed mouth. He sucked so hard that you thought he was trying to drink your soul out from you. Your head fell back and you gasped, grinding your wet, needy cunt as best you could on the side of his thigh. König took pity on you, lapping at your nipples until they were shining nubs screaming in oversensitivity, while his brick hand - when had he taken his glove off? - cupped your pussy through your underwear. His thumb was jammed right up against your clit. You didn’t know if he’d meant to do that, or if it was coincidental, but either way you ground up onto the solid digit until your eyes were unfocused.
“So wet for me, liebling,” he murmured breathlessly, between your nipples, “you are fucking soaked for me.” He stroked you with his thumb once and your eyes slackened and you came with a shudder, stiffening beneath him as stars danced above your head.
He let your nipple slide wetly from his mouth and suddenly those bright eyes were on you.
“Did you just have an orgasm?”
“Mmm.” You buried your head into his neck shyly, thighs shuddering as the waves of pleasure rolled through you. Your clit twitched against his hand.
“Oh, sweet liebling.” He murmured, rubbing wet circles over the sodden fabric of your underwear. You shuddered as your thighs tried to close away from the intense pleasure, until one strong hand was on your thigh and pushing it wide.
“König!” You gasped. He was watching you intently as he pushed your underwear to the side with his fingers and pressed the thick digits through your sopping folds.
“Such a pretty little cunt.” He murmured, stroking his fingertips over your slit. It opened with every heavy breath you took, dribbles of desire wetting his fingers.
“König, please,” you whined, “need you in me. Please -”
“Oh yes? Is that so?” The side of his mouth twitched up, then his finger was sinking inside you.
“Shit, fuck! K-König, you’re so big…” You felt your cunt stretching around his finger, clenching involuntarily down around it as your thighs tried to close but couldn’t, pinned open by his solid hand.
“I know, schatz.” He replied calmly. “You can take it.” He slid a second finger in without warning and grunted at how tight and wet you were, just imagining how your cunt would feel around his cock. You whined and threw your head back, the stretch aching after months of nothing, thighs shaking. You were so fucking wet that his fingers practically glided in, his knuckles against your soft pink entrance. “I want you to come for me, to loosen you up for my cock.”
“König, fuck, I…” Your cheeks were rosy. “My god, please...please move, I need-”
“Shhh, little one, I know.” He wasted no time shoving his fingers deeper in your aching cunt, and you yelped and lifted off of the bed entirely. König growled in disapproval and used the hand on your thigh to pin you down to the bed, keeping you still as he ploughed his fingers in and out of you. You moaned deliriously at the sudden intense, rough pressure to your sweet spot, watching the way König’s large hand was like a blur between your legs.
“I’m-” You couldn’t even say it before you were coming with a wet moan, your release splashing against his wrist and dripping all over the bed.
“Scheiße, liebling, making such a mess for me.” His fingers were still hard and circling your engorged sweet spot. Your body seized in panic as you gripped his wrist with all your might to try and still him. All you achieved was watching your own arms shake as he fingered you mercilessly. The noise was obscene, soaking wet come and slick filthy between your legs and soaking his hand as you squirted again, streaming down his arm with a mix of clear and white desire. You moaned and gasped and sobbed, the pleasure intense and spiralling, your pussy already felt worn out from the rough treatment.
“König, please,” you begged, “it’s too much-”
“Again.” He commanded, hand leaving your thigh and curling around your throat. “Want all of that squirt out of you.” he pinned you to the bed by your neck, using the change in position to drive his fingers roughly home deep in your aching, spent cunt. He didn’t stop when you came, and he didn’t stop when you came again - your eyes in the back of your head, body on fire with ceaseless pleasure, the bed beneath you soaked with your own humiliation. All you could do was take it, and shudder violently.
Finally, König pulled his fingers from your gaping hole and slapped your cheek lightly, it was a wet noise and you blinked.
“Come on, little girl, do not give up on me.”
“König,” you slurred, heaving. “I…fuck, so good, never…I can’t…”
“Oh sweet one,” he cooed, crowding between your legs, pulling your thighs over his hips. “Fucked you stupid and I haven’t even put my cock in you yet.”
You managed a tired smile as you traced your fingers down the front of his stab vest. You watched him drag the zip of his trousers down, rubbing just the once over the lump there before dipping in and pulling his cock free. It took him three tries - to extract the full, erect length of himself from the tight compression of his protective cup, before he was letting it hang heavy between his legs.
“Fuck, König- you’re so big.”
“I know, baby,” he stroked the length of his long, engorged cock from length to tip and your eyes widened, cunt throbbing between your legs in your desperation to feel it deep in you.
“König, please,” you begged, digging your heels into the small of his back, your wet cunt pressed up against his balls, inviting, begging him in, “my pussy - please -”
He chuckled before pressing the head of his foreboding cock against your clit and you trembled and cursed. He lent over you, hand squeezing your breast, the ends of his dark hood tickling your neck as you felt the hot, solid crown of his cock pressing against your entrance. Your eyes were wide, nervous, feeling the pressure, the give, then the hot length sliding home inside of you.
You gasped and arched, clenching around him and his biceps shook where he held you.
“Fuck, schatz, fuck, not so hard, you will make me come.”
“C-can’t help it.” It was a whine, rolling your hips and digging your heels in harder, trying to pull him deeper. “Feels so good.”
“Yeah?” He panted, regaining some of his composure and locking his hand around your neck once more. His hips began to piston and you weren’t prepared for it, the shift of his massive cock in your tight walls making you moan and clench and writhe. Your cunt was obscenely wet, and every noise was a squelch that made you blush, until he was pounding into your sweet spot and you forgot everything.
“Fuck, König, fuck-” it was breathless, eyelids fluttering as you clenched and groaned and sprayed his cock, his balls, with your release. “I can’t - can’t stop, fuck,”
“Guh, fuck.” He grunted, lips ghosting over yours. His cock not slowing, pounding you like he was trying to nail the mattress beneath you. “So tight, liebling, your pussy is drawing me in. I’ve waited so long for this.”
You couldn’t ask him to explain, you were too busy coming, your world zeroed down to the tip of König’s dick abusing your swollen sweet spot. He curled his fingers under your knee and held your thigh up by your collarbone, exposing more of your vulnerable cunt to him as he thrust hard into your aching walls.
Your moans were broken and never ending, blushing and squirming in delirious agony as you gushed and creamed on his cock, feeling your hot release on the backs of your thighs.
“Look at you,” König didn’t even have the decency to sound exerted as he took you apart. “You can’t stop coming, can you, schatz?”
“No.” There were tears in your eyes, your fingernails digging into his arms, holding on for dear life. “You need, please -” Your mouth fell open as you came again, the splash of your squirt explosive and filthy, “you need to come, please, I can’t, can’t come again, please, König, please.”
König framed your jaw with his hand, stroking along the bone as he slammed his hips into yours, forcing more of your come straight from you with a grunt.
“Nearly there, schatz.” He said into your mouth. “Just a little bit longer.”
“Fuck, please,” your walls clenched and contracted again, vaulted over the edge and nearly losing consciousness, clenching your fucked out cunt tight if only to help him get there. “Please, come, come in me, fuck.”
“Scheiße,” he groaned, cock jamming in your tight cunt as you came so hard you nearly pushed him out. He shoved his way back in and you wailed. “You want me to come inside? I’m not wearing…”
“König, please,” it was pathetic, and he couldn’t deny you, watching your sobbing eyes with his piercing blues as he slammed into your weeping cunt for a few more torturous minutes, then his forehead was pressed to yours and he groaned as he spilled inside you. He was so deep you couldn’t feel it, but you could feel his cock twitching, and you could feel yourself clenching and coming so hard you forced dribbles of his white come straight back out of your slit and dribbling down between your cheeks.
König was breathing heavily against you as he held himself, forehead against yours, body framing yours, and you watched him as you shuddered and tried in vain to relax. He was…there were no words for it.
You let your hands trail down his clothed back, feeling the solid and bunching muscles there, feeling his cock heavy in your squirting pussy and wondering how the hell this had happened.
“König,” you had a warm, dizzying smile on your face. “You came back.”
He nodded mutedly, face partially obscured by his hood, as he stroked along your jaw, then your lips, and let his hulking body fall and rest beside yours. “Thought you might not want me.”
You shook your head, curling into his chest the best you could. He was still inside you.
“Want you, always. Don’t-'' He'd already curled his bear arms around you, drawing you into his warm chest and cutting you off. You were suddenly so overhot you couldn’t remember what you were going to say.
“I’m sorry I upset you, liebling,” he stroked along your back, his blue eyes slack. “I have always wanted you to be mine. From the moment I saw you.”
This felt like a fever dream. It couldn’t possibly be real. You couldn’t possibly be this happy.
“I’ve always been yours, König, I still am. If you still want me.”
He tilted his head as he watched you, lips pulling up, and you blushed.
“What?” You asked.
“You,” he said simply, voice warm like honey, “are smiling again.”
12K notes
·
View notes
Text
things people should know:
do not mess with your cat.
do not mess with your sukuna.
you thought this was common sense. apparently, it wasn’t.
it started when you left sukuna in the waiting area of the vet clinic, because you needed to pick up some medication for your cat—bless his furry little soul, the bravest warrior you know, who had just survived a vet visit with minimal casualties. sukuna, being the grumpy menace he is, had grumbled about waiting but ultimately sat down with your cat carrier beside him, arms crossed, looking like a bouncer for a very exclusive club. and that’s when they appeared.
the poodle posse.
a group of women with perfectly manicured nails, dressed like they were about to star in a reality tv show called luxury lives of lapdog owners. their poodles were equally pampered—fluffy, primped, wearing tiny designer jackets that probably cost more than your rent. you weren’t there to witness it, but based on sukuna’s expression when you came back, things had escalated.
“oh, wow, such a strong, brooding man,” one of them had probably purred, leaning into sukuna’s personal space. “is this your cat? he’s so cute!”
bad move.
your cat is not "cute"—your cat is a warrior. a veteran of the battlefield (otherwise known as your apartment). he has fought many enemies (the vacuum, a particularly aggressive curtain, and one unfortunate houseplant that did not survive). and most importantly, he is loyal to you. so, when a stranger’s hand reached out to pet him?
he hissed. and not just any hiss—this was a legendary hiss. a hiss that spoke of betrayal, of fury, of how dare you touch me, peasant. and sukuna? sukuna looked at them like they were the scum of the earth.
"ya deaf?" he had grunted, because subtlety has never been his strong suit. "he doesn’t like strangers."
but did that stop them? oh no. if anything, it made them more interested.
“aww, he’s just shy! maybe he just needs to warm up to us!”
and that’s when your cat, your beautiful, petty little creature, smacked their poodle in the face.
gasp. horror. scandal.
the poodle recoiled like it had just been personally insulted. its owner gasped, clutching her dog like a victorian maiden about to faint. "your cat just hit my precious baby!" she shrieked.
sukuna? sukuna had the audacity to laugh. “good. he had it coming.”
the poodle posse was outraged. they tried to guilt-trip sukuna, fluttering their lashes, attempting to appeal to his (nonexistent) softer side.
“you know, a guy like you shouldn’t be wasting time with a cat person. dog lovers are way more fun.”
mistake.
because that’s when sukuna turned to them, his usual mean grin stretching across his face, and said, “you think i like cats? nah. i like my girl. the cat’s just part of the package.”
devastation. utter defeat.
when you finally came back, you were greeted with the sight of the poodle posse storming out, their spoiled dogs in tow, throwing death glares at sukuna—who looked smug as hell. you raised a brow at him. "what did you do?"
"nothin'," he said, draping an arm over your shoulders. "your little monster defended his honor. i just enjoyed the show." meanwhile, your cat, still sitting in his carrier like a king on his throne, looked very pleased with himself.
moral of the story?
don’t mess with your cat. don’t mess with your sukuna. and definitely don’t mess with both at the same time.
#@sukuna#jjk headcanons#jjk x gender neutral reader#jjk x reader#jjk x y/n#jjk x you#jujutsu kaisen headcanons#jujutsu kaisen x gender neutral reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen x you#sukuna headcanons#sukuna x reader#sukuna x you#ryomen x reader#ryomen x y/n#ryomen x you#ryomen sukuna x reader#ryomen sukuna x you#jjk fluff#jjk drabbles#jujutsu kaisen fluff#sukuna fluff
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
LITTLE LOOSE TO SAVE THOUSAND, g. suguru
☆ sum. your roommate ’bout to show you have to make easy-money and become rich in one night, wonder how? no? have no idea? probably not. but geto has lots of lamps hanging around his head and he’s about to show you how easy it is to make money, psst. . . you may not be able to walk after— but you don’t know, yet.
warning. non-sorcerer au, roomate-geto, sqūirting, exhibitionism, anāl, spanking, praises, dirty talk, pet-names, fingēring, dōuble-penetration, degrāding, name-calling, geto is dirty mannnn.
sitting in the kitchen, a bowl of chicken noodle soup in front of you, you held chopsticks in one hand and your phone in the other, scrolling endlessly through job listings, searching for another side gig to earn extra money. apparently, everything seems to revolve around money these days.
you sighed, setting your phone down on the table—not too roughly, though; you couldn’t afford a replacement if it broke, especially with your student loans hanging over you.
a chuckle made you look up, and there stood your roommate, suguru geto— a medical student at your university, clearly amused by the frustrated look on your face.
you frowned as geto walked over to the fridge, bending down to grab a bottle of water. only then did you really take in his appearance—he was wearing nothing but a pair of snug, black calvin klein boxers that hugged his muscular, toned body— toned cock, a fucking huge one.
you shifted your gaze to the window to avoid staring, but when he moved closer and took a seat across from you at the small, round dining table, it was impossible to ignore his presence. scowling, you poked at your now almost-cold chicken noodle soup with your chopsticks and muttered, “you’re not funny, you know that, right?”
geto just smirked, unbothered by your irritation. he was well-known around campus for his striking looks, his intelligence, and his impressive physique. everyone knew him not only for his kindness and calm nature but also because he was best friends with another popular figure, gojo satoru. yet, there was another side to geto that added to his reputation—he was a live streamer, and not just any streamer, he is a fucking porn star.
geto ran a successful channel that catered to an adult audience, where he would occasionally show off that sculpted body and let people get a taste of his rich, honeyed voice. he had a loyal fanbase willing to pay for the privilege of watching him, and his popularity only seemed to grow each day.
people paid good money to watch him become a whimpering, trembling mess, undone by pleasure until he was left breathless. they’d pay to see him moan and shiver, eyes rolling back as choked sounds escaped his throat, his adam’s apple bobbing as he struggled for air.
to see his, massive, veiny cock; how it’s twitching and throbbing around another veiny, muscle hand of his. geto is sooo beautiful when he drowns in pleasure, you almost want to see it to yourself.
they paid to see him in that state—to see sweat and tears glisten on his flushed cheeks, his face turning that deep, crushed-cherry red. his toned chest would rise and fall in desperate gasps, every inhale and exhale a battle to steady himself. it was intoxicating for his viewers to witness the way he fell apart on camera, giving them every last bit of him.
and you? you were one of the few who could hear it all through the thin walls you shared, every broken sound slipping through. he never even bothered with soundproofing his studio, claiming he just wanted to “help you out a little,” in case you ever wanted to listen in.
he was utterly shameless.
you were pulled out of your thoughts by the sound of geto's smooth, velvet voice. a chuckle escaped his lips, a teasing smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. he took a sip from the bottle of water he was holding in his hand, and you couldn’t help but notice the way his jaw flexed with each swallow, only adding to the smugness in his expression.
“what’s with the attitude?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at you. you knew he was enjoying this; he liked it when you were riled up. it was a game to him, a way to get under your skin, maybe under you.
you scoffed, crossing your arms as you shot him a glare. “i don’t have an attitude,” you bit back, though your narrowed eyes and scowl made it clear you weren’t exactly in a friendly mood. even though you denied it, your glare only seemed to fuel his amusement, his smirk growing wider as he watched you struggle not to react.
there was a brief moment of silence, the only sound filling the air was the gentle bubbling of your chicken noodle soup and the soft slurping coming from geto as he took another sip of his water. his eyes never left your face, a playful glint in his violet irises as he studied you, taking in your every move.
“you’re really grumpy when you’re looking for a new job, you know that?” he said, his words were casual, as if he was commenting on the weather.
you rolled your eyes, letting out an exasperated huff. “well, not everyone can make money as easily as you,” you muttered, your tone dripping with sarcasm.
his words were so casual, so nonchalant, as if he were pointing out the color of the sky, and that only irked you more, like you want nothing but slap his beautiful face, thinking maybe, just maybe. . . he will let out a pleasure moan like you after heard. meanwhile, he kept studying you with that amused, knowing look in his violet eyes, as though your frustration was his favorite form of entertainment.
geto’s smirk widened, clearly finding your reaction amusing. he took another sip of his water before responding, his voice low and smooth.
“hmm,” he hum, eyes glinting with mischief. he leaned back in his chair, casually draping his toned arms over the back of it, completely at ease in his near-naked state. his muscles flexed subtly with each movement, drawing your gaze no matter how hard you tried to resist.
“i could help you, you know?” he said, his tone almost sweet. he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table as he looked at you with a deceptively innocent expression, batting his lashes at you.
“that is, if you’re interested in making some easy money. there is a catch, though.”
you scowled, trying to focus on your soup instead of his physique— his chest, his glisten abs, the growing bulge underneath the black, stretch fabric, in general, just him. but it was difficult to ignore the way the muscles in his arms and chest flexed with even the slightest movement.
it was infuriating how effortlessly attractive he was, and how nonchalantly he seemed to show it off. he knew the effect he had on people, and he was clearly enjoying the reaction it drew out of you.
geto leaned back in his chair again, looking at you with a knowing smile. his arms were still raised, showing off his well-defined biceps and triceps, like a lion flaunting its strength.
“the catch is,” he said, pausing for a moment as he took a sip of his water, “it’s a little bit more. . . hands-on, shall we say?”
his words left a lot up to interpretation, and he was clearly enjoying how you were trying to decipher what he was suggesting. his expression was a mixture of mischief and amusement, as if he was watching an interesting social experiment unfold before him.
“but, if you're interested,” he added, his tone turning almost suggestive, “i could introduce you to my side gig.” he licked his lips, tongue darting across his lower lip in an almost sensual way, before taking another sip of his water.
and for a moment, just a beat, you wonder how his tongue feels licking your dripping cunt.
you raised an eyebrow, fighting to keep your expression as indifferent as possible, even though his suggestive tone and the lewd imagination was starting to get to you. humming softly, you leaned back a bit, feigning complete nonchalance.
“yeah? who, yourself?” you replied, voice smooth and dismissive, as if his little game had no effect on you. but the way he licked his lips—slow, deliberate—had your heartbeat picking up and your thighs flushing against one another, no matter how hard you tried to ignore it.
geto’s violet eyes narrowed, a sly smile playing on his lips. he leaned forward, his chair scraping slightly against the ground as he moved closer to you. the distance between you two felt like it had suddenly shrunk, and you caught a whiff of his cologne—spicy, musky, and distinctly masculine.
“oh sweetheart,” he purred, his voice dripping with honey-sweet condescension, “it’s a bit more involved than that.” he paused again, savoring the moment, his eyes locked on yours. he lifted his hand and ran his fingers down his neck, tracing the lines of his defined collarbone, before resting his hand lightly on his chest.
geto leaned back once more, his casual smirk widening as he took another sip of his water. his eyes never left your face, though, and you could see the challenge in them. he was trying to test you, to see if he could break you, to see if you were as indifferent as you were trying to appear.
he licked his lips once more, his tongue tracing a slow, deliberate path across his lower lip. his gaze dropped to your neck for a moment, taking in your visible gulp before his eyes flicked down to your breast, a little nipples peeking through your baby tee. cute.
“but if you’re up for it,” he continued, his tone teasing, “i could show you just how hands-on it can be.”
and in a beat. . .
geto had you naked, looking all pretty and flustered on his lap, fingers slowly teasing your little bud with precise strokes— thighs spread wide open for the world to see with your back kissing his broad chest, intertwine with his soft skin.
you freeze up momentarily, taken aback by the sudden intimacy and exposure. your heart races as you glance around the room, hoping no one outside these walls might stumble upon this bizarre situation. the warmth of geto’s body against yours and the gentle pressure of his fingers make it hard to think straight.
“uh, hi... everyone,” you manage to stammer out, trying to sound casual despite the awkwardness. “i guess i’m here now.”
your gaze flickers between the camera lens and geto’s face, searching for any sign of mockery or exploitation. but all you see is his usual calm demeanor, albeit with a hint of excitement. it’s disconcerting yet strangely reassuring.
as he mentions donations influencing their actions, a mix of trepidation and curiosity swirls inside you. what exactly does he have planned? and should you care, given the financial benefits?
“there there, relax,” geto murmurs into your ear, his warm breath tickling your skin as he pulls you closer against his bare chest. “it’s just us and our lovely audience. nothing to worry about,” he chuckles softly, clearly amused by your nervousness.
his fingers continue their slow, teasing dance across your slick folds, sending shivers through your body despite the growing unease. “you’re doing great, by the way. sooo natural in front of the camera already,” he praises, his voice dripping with playful sarcasm.
“our viewers are going to love you.”
on the screen, the donation counter begins to climb rapidly as curious minds tune in, eager to witness this unexpected twist of the new star. geto grins wickedly, relishing the attention.
the live chat starts to fill with messages, some requesting specific acts, others simply expressing their enthusiasm for the new addition to geto’s streams. the atmosphere in the room shifts, becoming more electric and charged with anticipation.
“looks like we’ve got some early requests coming in, let’s see...” geto purrs, scrolling through the increasingly lewd suggestions flooding the chat. “it seems our viewers have quite the imagination.”
he selects a particularly generous donation from someone requesting a deep kiss, smirking as he turns his attention back to you through the screen in front. “well, looks like we have our first task. shall we oblige?”
without waiting for a response, geto leans in close— drawing his fingers from your dripping cunt, mindlessly smearing your juice on your cheek the way he pushes your head to the side, lips brushing against yours in a feather-light caress before capturing them fully. his tongue teases the seam of your mouth, coaxing you to part your lips and grant him entry.
his other hand makes a home on your stomach to keep you pressed over his chest— fingertips leaving trails of fire on your sensitive skin, and the kiss deepens, becoming more heated and passionate as geto pours all his focus into this intimate act.
the initial shock fades into a strange sort of numbness as geto’s lips claim yours, his skilled tongue exploring the depths of your mouth. it’s both thrilling and terrifying, the intensity of the kiss overwhelming your senses.
despite the chaos swirling in your mind, you find yourself responding instinctively, meeting his passion with a tentative eagerness of your own. your hands come up to grip the muscles of his arm on your stomach, fingers barely curling into the soft flesh as if anchoring yourself to reality.
when geto finally breaks the kiss, leaving you panting and dazed, you notice the audience eagerly devouring every second of this private display. a wave of self-consciousness washes over you, but it’s quickly overshadowed by the lingering heat of his touch and the intoxicating scent of his cologne.
“mmm,” you hum, satisfied— eyes down to his glistening lips before meeting his hungry irises.
geto is a veryyyy good kisser.
“my my,” geto purrs, a low, sultry tone rumbling through his chest and into your body pressed so intimately against his. “color me impressed,” geto praises lowly once he pulled away from your messy kiss, his fingers lightly brushing across your jawline, smearing your juices over the path.
the contrast between that innocent gesture versus how your slick fluids shone across your cheek has him chuckling under his breath. geto was tempted to lick it clean but held himself back for later.
“the chat loves you already, don’t they?” geto points out playfully as he turned the angle to show off you completely sprawled across his lap in nothing. the circles around your nipples was evident and the sheer number of requests wanting to watch him toy with them, pinch and pull only added to his perverse glee.
“ah, yes,” geto says with a smirk, noticing your gaze drifting down to his hand still resting on your stomach. “’m quite fond of touching you myself, these little beauties need some attention,” he remarks, his voice laced with amusement and arousal. geto’s fingers drift lower, tracing the curves of your breasts before pinching and rolling your hardened nipples between thumb and forefinger. he tugs gently, watching with a smirk as you gasp and arch into his touch.
his thumb grazes over the swell of your breast, circling the hardened nipple before giving it a light pinch. “mmm, you’re so responsive.”
he leans in to whisper huskily in your ear, “our viewers seem to agree. they’re begging for more.” geto glances at the screen, where the donation counter continues to rise and the chat fills with pleas for him to explore your body further.
with a wicked grin, he slides his hand lower, fingers trailing down your quivering belly and dipping into your wet slit for the second time. “shall we give them a show?” he asks, stroking your sensitive folds with deliberate slowness, building the tension within you.
a soft whimper escapes your parted lips as geto’s fingers tease your most intimate area, the each delicate strokes igniting sparks of pleasure throughout your cunt. your hips buck involuntarily, seeking more friction, more contact with his skilled digits.
the combination of his skilled touch and the voyeuristic thrill of performing for an unseen audience sends waves of heat coursing through your veins.
the sensation of his calloused palm cupping your breast, the subtle pinch and tug on your nipple, sends jolts of electricity coursing through your veins. your back arches, pressing your chest further into his touch as you let out a breathy moan.
when geto whispers in your ear, promising to give the audience a show, a flush spreads across your cheeks and down your neck. the thought of performing for strangers, of letting them bear witness to your most private moments, is both mortifying and exhilarating.
geto’s knowing smile and the way his eyes gleam with mischief only fuel the desire burning within you. you feel powerless yet exhilarated, surrendering to the moment and the talented hands guiding you towards ecstasy.
“yes,” you manage to whimper, the word barely audible over the pounding of your heart— heavy with desire. “show ‘em. . .”
along the way geto continues to tease your most sensitive areas, you can’t help but imagine the faces behind those screens, the fantasies they must be conjuring based on the live spectacle unfolding before them. the thought adds a layer of eroticism to the experience, making you acutely aware of your naked vulnerability.
geto lets out a pleased hum at your eager affirmation, fingers continuing their sensual exploration of your wet folds. he rubs slow, firm circles over your clit, applying just the right amount of pressure to make your legs tremble and your hips jerk reflexively against his hand.
“that’s it, baby,” he coos, voice dripping with seduction as he watches your reactions closely. “let them see how much you enjoy this.”
as if to prove his point, geto slides two fingers inside your clenching heat, pumping them slowly while his thumb keeps up its relentless stimulation of your swollen nub. he curls his fingers, searching for that spot deep within that always seemed to send you over the edge.
at the same time, geto captures your lips in another searing kiss, swallowing your mewls of pleasure as he tastes the sweetness of your arousal.
your head falls back against geto’s shoulder as he claims your mouth, the dual sensations of his fingers plunging deep within your core and his thumb rubbing insistently over your clit becoming almost too much to bear. you moan into the kiss, the vibrations echoing through your chest as your inner walls begin to flutter and clench around his invading digits.
geto’s words of encouragement only add to the intensity, the knowledge that you’re putting on a show for an unseen audience heightening the thrill. you can’t help but imagine the lewd thoughts racing through their minds as they watch you lose control, the filthy fantasies they must be conjuring based on the live feed.
as geto hits that sweet spot inside you, your entire body seizes up, back arching sharply as a powerful orgasm rips through you. “mmm— sugu, fuck.”
geto grins wickedly as he feels your pussy clamping down on his fingers, your cries of ecstasy filling the air. he doesn’t let up, continuing to pump and twist his digits within your spasming channel, drawing out your little climax for the viewing audience.
“look at her, she’s cumming all over my fingers,” he announces, voice rough with arousal as he brings the slick digits to his mouth, sucking them clean. “she tastes divine.”
he turns his focus back to you, purple eyes blazing with hunger as he takes in your flushed face and heaving chest. geto slides one hand up to cup your chin, tilting your head back as he leans in for another dominating kiss, tongue delving deep to claim every inch of your mouth.
“my, aren’t you just the prettiest thing when you’re all worked up?” geto purrs, breaking the kiss to trail his lips along your jawline and down the column of your throat. he nuzzles into the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply as if savoring your scent.
“and you smell incredible,” he murmurs, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine. geto’s hands roam over your body, mapping out every curve and dip, leaving trails of fire in their wake.
“but i think our audience wants more,” he reminds you, pulling back slightly to meet your gaze through the screen. you gasp as geto pulls away from your neck, his husky praise and the lingering heat of his lips making you ache for more. the sight of him licking his fingers clean, savoring the evidence of your pleasure, sends a fresh wave of desire crashing through you.
there’s a mischievous glint in his amber eyes, a promise of debauchery to come. “she’s such a slut, eh? already cum a minute after i finger fuck her,” he talks to the audience, pretty little smug covering his face.
his words, spoken directly to the camera, make your cheeks burn with embarrassment and arousal. the idea of being reduced to nothing more than a sexual object for these strangers’ entertainment is both humiliating and intensely erotic.
you squirm under geto’s roaming touch, skin prickling with goosebumps as he explores every inch of you. his teasing comments and the predatory gleam in his eyes leave no doubt about what he intends to do next.
geto smirks at the viewer's reaction to calling you a ‘slut’, clearly enjoying the power dynamic between you two and the effect it has on the audience.
“looks like someone likes watching me defile you,” he taunts, trailing a finger down your chest to circle your pert nipple, giving it a playful tweak. “shall i keep going, or have we got a winner for who blows their load first?”
his words are provocative, aimed directly at the camera, as if daring anyone to challenge him or try to outdo him in this twisted game of sexual tit-for-tat. the cocky confidence in his tone is intoxicating, making you feel small and vulnerable beneath his dominant gaze.
as he speaks, geto’s other hand roams lower, fingertips dancing across your belly before slipping between your thighs once more.
his fingers dance over your slick folds once more, gathering more of your essence before trailing upwards to circle your puckered rosebud. “and then, maybe, i’ll take this tight little hole next,” he teases, applying gentle pressure, “just to show everyone how versatile you are.”
geto’s words are laced with lust, and the thought of submitting to such intense degradation in front of a live audience has you panting and squirming in anticipation. the notion that these strangers are witnessing your utter submission, your complete loss of control, only heightens the eroticism of the situation.
“oh— suguru,” a choked moan escapes your lips as geto’s fingers tease your sensitive flesh, the prospect of being taken in such a filthy way sending jolts of electricity straight to your core. you can feel your own arousal coating his digits, easing the path as he circles your virgin entrance.
the humiliation of being spoken about so crudely, of having your most intimate acts broadcast for the world to see, is almost too much to bear. yet there’s something undeniably thrilling about surrendering to geto completely, letting him use your body however he sees fit while an audience looks on.
your nipples harden into stiff peaks, aching for his touch as you writhe helplessly against him. you know he can feel how wet you are— practically dripping down to his thighs— how desperately your body craves more of his ministrations.
geto chuckles darkly at your helpless moans, clearly relishing the power he holds over you in this moment. he continues to torment your rosebud, pressing and circling the sensitive bud until you’re writhing and mewling like a needy kitten.
“such a good girl, getting so excited over the idea of taking my cock in your tight ass,” he praises, his voice low and seductive. “i wonder... should i give the folks at home a preview?”
without waiting for a response, geto guides the tip of his middle finger past your resistant ring muscle, sinking slowly into your clenching heat. he pauses for a moment, allowing you to adjust to the intrusion, before beginning to push in deeper.
“shit, feels so good wrapped around me,” geto groans softly as he sinks his finger deeper into your tight rear passage, relishing the way your muscles grip him like a vice. he starts to thrust in and out, gradually increasing the pace as he works you open.
“watch her stretch around my finger,” he instructs the camera, his voice thick with lust. “she’s so fucking tight, but i bet she’d take my cock even better.”
geto’s free hand reaches up to fondle your breast, pinching and rolling your nipple between his fingers as he continues to finger-fuck your ass. the dual sensations of his probing digit and the stimulation to your sensitive nipple send sparks of pleasure shooting through your nerves.
a high-pitched whine tears from your throat as geto’s finger pushes deeper, stretching your anal walls to accommodate the intrusion. the burning sensation is intense, but not unpleasant, and you find yourself arching back against him, seeking more of that delicious friction.
“ahh, s-suguru! not there, fuck—” you cry out, your voice trembling with a mix of pain and pleasure. the feeling of being so thoroughly penetrated, of having your most private area exposed and used for the amusement of others, is overwhelming.
geto’s filthy talk only adds to your arousal, the knowledge that he’s watching you suffer (or enjoy) this degrading act for the benefit of his online fans making you feel like a cheap whore. and yet, you can’t deny the thrill that courses through you at the thought of being seen in such a compromising position.
geto’s eyes gleam with sadistic glee as he watches you squirm and whimper under his touch. he loves seeing you brought to the brink of discomfort, knowing that it’s all part of the twisted game he’s playing with you.
“shhh, don't worry, baby,” he coos, his voice dripping with false concern. “i’m just getting you ready for my big cock. you’ll love every inch of it buried deep inside you.”
with that promise, geto begins to pump his finger faster, driving it in and out of your stretched asshole with ruthless efficiency. the sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, mingling with your breathless cries and the hum of the webcam.
“look at her, guys,” he addresses the camera, his gaze never leaving your flushed face through the screen of his computer.
geto’s free hand snakes around to the front of your body, seeking out your throbbing clit. he finds the swollen nub easily, rubbing firm circles around it as he continues to finger your ass.
“doesn’t she look pretty like this?” he asks the audience, his voice a low purr. “all spread out and filled, taking everything i give her like a good slut.”
he presses a second finger alongside the first, scissoring them apart to stretch you further. the burn intensifies, but so does the pleasure, and you find yourself rocking back onto his hand, chasing both.
“fuck, watch her beg for it,” geto growls, his thumb now rubbing rough circles over your clit. “she’s loving this, aren’t you, whore? loving being used for everyone to see?”
your mind reels as geto’s fingers plunge deeper, the double penetration sending waves of intense pleasure crashing through your body. you can feel yourself teetering on the edge of climax, your inner walls clenching rhythmically around his invading digits.
“fuck, fuckkk,” you wail, no longer caring about the lewdness of your words, head thrown back to his shoulder blade. “deeper. . . please.”
the admission slips out before you can stop it, and you flush with shame, realizing the whole world must have heard your desperate plea. but the humiliation only fuels your desire, making you grind back against geto’s hand with renewed urgency.
“fuck, just like that,” he encourages, his fingers curling to hit that sweet spot inside you. “ride my hand, slut. show these perverts what a greedy little cumslut you are. let ’em watch as i prepare your sweet little ass for my cock, yeah?”
geto smirks wickedly at your submission, pleased by how easily you succumb to his dominance. he picks up the pace, fingering you harder and faster as he watches you lose control.
“that’s it, come undone for me,” he urges, his voice husky with lust. “let go, you dirty little cumwhore. i want to see you squirt all over my hand while you plead for my cock. are you a squirter, baby?”
his fingers move in tandem with his thumb, stroking your clit and prodding, pumping his fingers at your g-spot relentlessly. the combination proves too much, and with a keening wail, your orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave of ecstasy coursing through your veins, threatening to overwhelm you entirely.
spasms rip through your sex, your juices gushing out to soak geto’s fingers and palm.
your entire body seizes up as the intense climax rips through you, every nerve ending alight with electric pleasure. you thrash wildly, unable to contain the convulsions that wrack your frame as wave after wave of euphoria washes over you.
“ah, fuuck!” you scream, the sound torn from your throat by the sheer force of your release.
your hips buck erratically, grinding your soaked pussy against geto’s hands as if trying to milk every last drop of pleasure from the intense orgasm. your inner walls clamp down hard on his fingers, milking them for all they’re worth as you ride out the aftershocks.
“ah, there there, we’ve got a squirter, everyone,” geto grin to the camera, slapping your cunt while you lean against his chest, panting heavily, body quivering with residual pleasure.
geto chuckles darkly, clearly enjoying the sight of you coming undone so spectacularly. he keeps his fingers buried deep inside you, letting you grind against them as you float down from your high.
“now that’s what i call a money shot,” he remarks to the camera, holding up his drenched hand for all to see. “this slut really knows how to make a mess, doesn’t she?”
withdrawing his fingers slowly, he brings them to his mouth, making a show of licking your essence off each digit. “mmm, delicious. but i think our viewers deserve a real treat.”
in one smooth motion, geto stand and spins you around and bends you over the desk, kicking your legs apart. the cold surface against your heated skin makes you gasp. “arch your back, baby.”
your breath hitches as geto positions you over the desk, the cool wood a stark contrast to the heat radiating from your cunt. you instinctively arch your back, presenting yourself to him as instructed, your thighs trembling slightly from the aftermath of your intense orgasm.
your legs tremble, presenting your dripping cunt to geto. the cool wood of the desk and the ac feels stark against your sensitive flesh, heightening your awareness of your vulnerability.
“sugu,” you whimper, not even sure what you're begging for anymore— more humiliation, more pain, more pleasure? all you know is that you crave whatever geto has planned next.
behind you, you hear the rustle of fabric, followed by the unmistakable sound of geto freeing his erection. the anticipation is agonizing, your body aching with need even as fear coils in your stomach at the prospect of taking his massive cock.
geto is fucking huge.
“hurry,” you breathe, looking back at him over your shoulder with pleading eyes.
geto’s lips curve into a cruel smirk as he takes in the sight of you presented so wantonly before him. he runs a hand up your spine, nails digging in just enough to leave faint red marks on your skin.
his eyes darkened with lust the moment his big, veiny hand found a place on your ass, grasping the plushy meat eagerly before giving you a mean slap. slap, slap, slap, until it is angry in red. the sight of your splayed form, ass in the air with his hand visibly printed, dripping wet and ready for him.
his thick cock juts out proudly, the tip already glistening with pre-cum, bobbing menacingly between his thighs. he grips the base, giving himself a few slow strokes, coating his length in pre-cum.
“patience, darling,” he purrs, trailing a finger down your spine to rest between your shoulder blades. “we don’t want to rush this. not when the perverts are so eager to see me fuck you.”
with a firm grip on his cock, he notches the bulbous head at your entrance, applying just enough pressure to make you gasp. “sshh, breathe,” he commands softly, voice hush and the vibration of his chest when he leans down to give your shoulder a kiss making you softly groan. “you can take it. just relax and let me in.”
slowly, inexorably, he begins to push forward, stretching your opening wider than ever before. geto sheaths himself to the hilt, burying his length inside you with a low groan. the tight squeeze of your cunt envelops him, and for a moment, he simply savors the feeling, letting you adjust to his size; his head is thrown back, and eyes closed as he is too, adjusting to the feeling of your warm cunt around his cock. “fuckkk,” a low whisper could be heard.
geto is good at fucking, his cock has been through a bunch of cunt, but never quite like yours. god, you feel heaven.
the sensation of geto pushing into you is overwhelming, his thickness stretching your walls wide to accommodate him. you grit your teeth, biting back a moan as he buries himself fully within you, filling you completely.
each vein and ridge of his engorged shaft is a brand against your sensitive walls, marking you as his. the fullness is intoxicating, leaving you dizzy with pleasure and desire.
you know geto is big, but fuck.
“oh god... sugu...” you whimper, your body trembling under the weight of his domination. your hands curl into fists, knuckles white as you fight back the urge to push back against him.
but despite the discomfort, despite the pain, there’s no denying the pleasure that courses through you with him just treasure the feeling of your cunt hugging his cock. your cunt climates around him, gripping tightly as if trying to keep him inside you forever.
geto lets out a guttural groan as he bottoms out inside you, relishing the way your hot, slick walls clutch at his throbbing cock. he stays still for a moment, savoring the exquisite feeling of being buried to the hilt in your willing body.
with a satisfied grunt, geto starts moving, his hips rolling in a slow, deliberate rhythm designed to drag out both his pleasure and yours. each thrust is deep and measured, the heavy swing of his balls slapping lewdly against your clit.
he reaches around to grasp your throat with one hand, squeezing just hard enough to make you gasp and arch your back further, presenting yourself even more enticingly. his other hand finds your breast, roughly palming the soft mound before pinching your nipple between thumb and forefinger, tear a high-pitched squeal from you.
“that’s it, good, good,” he growls, his voice muffled slightly by his gritted teeth. “take my cock like a good little cumslut,” he added, drawing another softly gasp after gasp.
“fuck, pussy feels amazing wrapped around my cock like this,” geto grunts, picking up speed as he pounds into you relentlessly. the desk creaks beneath the force of his thrusts, and you can feel every inch of his massive cock dragging against your inner walls.
he releases your throat to slide a hand down your belly, fingers dipping into your dripping slit to circle your clit. “gonna make you cum on my cock, then fill this tight cunt with my seed,” he promises, his voice rough with lust.
geto’s grip move to your hip, tightens as he drives into you harder, the room filled with the sounds of flesh slapping against flesh and your needy whimpers. he leans over you, his chest pressing against your back as he captures your earlobe between his teeth, nibbling and sucking. “do you like that, baby?”
geto’s words send shivers down your spine, his filthy promises igniting a fire within you. each brutal thrust sends waves of pleasure crashing through your body, your cunt clenching greedily around his pistoning cock.
the dual sensations of his fingers teasing your clit and his teeth grazing your earlobe are almost too much to bear. you can’t help but buck wildly against him, desperate for more friction, more stimulation.
“uh, mmm,” you cry out, your voice low and breathless, barely a word as there your mind goes somewhere.
geto’s grip on your hip is bruising, his fingers digging into your flesh as he fucks you with reckless abandon. the desk rattles ominously beneath you, the wood creaking in protest at the force of his thrusts.
geto’s lips twist into a cruel smile at your inability to speak coherently, clearly enjoying the effect he's having on you. “cat got your tongue?” he taunts playfully, giving your clit a sharp pinch. “don’t worry, i’ll fuck some sense into you soon enough.”
he picks up the pace, hammering into you with ruthless intensity. the sound of skin slapping against skin echoes obscenely through the room, mixing with your garbled moans and pleas for more. sweat beads on his brow as he chases his own pleasure, lost in the primal act of claiming what’s his.
“look at you,” he pants, admiring how your body yields so perfectly to his desires. “taking my cock like you were made for it.”
“hng,” you let out a high-pitched wail as geto continues to pound mercilessly into you, each thrust sending jolts of electricity through your entire body. your mind is foggy, overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of the pleasure coursing through your veins.
all you can focus on is the feeling of geto’s thick cock splitting you open, the delicious stretch of your walls around his girthy length. your legs tremble uncontrollably, threatening to give out from under you as he relentlessly fucks you into the desk.
your fingers scrabble desperately at the surface, searching for purchase as geto’s powerful thrusts rock your entire frame. droplets of sweat trickle down your face, mingling with the tears that prick at the corners of your eyes from the overwhelming sensations.
“ahh, f-fuuck!”
geto’s eyes gleam with wicked delight as he pulls you upright, forcing you to face the camera head-on. he keeps a firm grip on your arms with one arm, holding you steady as he presses close behind you.
“there we go,” he murmurs, nuzzling into your neck possessively. “let them all see what a desperate little slut you are for me.” his free hand drifts down your body, fingers dancing teasingly across your slick folds.
you can feel the heat of his gaze on you through the screen, drinking in your debauched appearance— hair mussed, cheeks flushed, lips swollen from biting back your cries. he licks a slow stripe up the column of your neck, tasting the salt of your sweat.
“you look so beautiful like this,” he murmured only for you to hear.
he holds you firmly in place, your back pressed against his chest as he keeps you positioned in front of the camera. your face is flushed, eyes glazed over with lust, and mouth hanging open in a silent scream— the perfect picture of a woman thoroughly ravaged by her dominant roommate.
“everyone, doesn’t she look adorable when she’s stuffed full of cock?” geto purrs into your ear, loud enough for the audiences to hear, his warm breath making you shiver. his free hand reaches around to cup your breast, kneading the soft flesh as he continues to fondle you for the audience’s viewing pleasure.
“tell them how much you love taking my cock, baby,” he commands, his voice dripping with sadistic amusement. “be a good girl and tell those perverts.”
he applies pressure to your nipple, twisting and tugging on them mercilessly, forcing a strangled moan from your throat.
geto’s words send another wave of shame and arousal washing over you, your face burning hot as you realize just how exposed and vulnerable you are right now. the knowledge that hundreds, maybe thousands of people are watching you in this state— completely owned and used by your roommate— only heightens your desperation.
you whimper pathetically, unable to form coherent words as geto continues to torment your sensitive nipple. your whole body quakes with the effort of staying upright, your knees threatening to buckle at any moment.
“good. . . feel so good, your cock inside me,” you manage to stammer out, the word torn from your throat on a ragged breath. “i love... i love your cock...” tears spill down your cheeks as geto’s relentless stimulation pushes you closer and closer to the edge. the humiliation of being so exposed, so vulnerable, only serves to heighten your arousal.
“i... i l-love it,” you whimper, your voice trembling with need. “i love takin’ your cock, suguru. it feels so good inside me...”
as if to emphasize your point, your hips twitch involuntarily, seeking reconnection with the thick shaft still throbbing with need mere inches away. your hands come up to clutch at geto’s wrists, nails digging into his skin as you try to anchor yourself amidst the storm of sensation.
“p-please, sugu... i need... i need to cum...” you beg, your voice cracking with desperation.
geto chuckles darkly at your pitiful begging, clearly relishing the power he holds over you. “need to cum, huh? well, who am i to deny such a desperate plea from a dirty girl?”
he spins you around to face him, one hand gripping your chin as the other wraps around your waist, pulling you flush against his hard body. his amber eyes bore into yours, glinting with sadistic intent.
“but first, i think it’s time for a little show.“ with that, he lifts you effortlessly back to his chair, spreading your thighs wide apart after planting you in his lap once again with your back against his hard, sweaty chest. the camera zooms in, capturing every intimate detail of your soaked, swollen sex.
geto sinks to the chair, one arm around your waist while the other letting the fingers dancing around your trembling thigh before kissing your cunt, spread the lips open, a wicked grin playing on his lips. “let’s give these pervs something to really jerk off to, shall we?” and that, everyone can see your cunt clenches, unclenches around nothing.
geto smirks as he reads through the barrage of comments flooding in, many of them praising his rough treatment of you and demanding more. he clicks on a few particularly enthusiastic ones, letting the crude messages wash over you.
geto lets out a low, appreciative hum, clearly enjoying the attention and validation from his online fans. his fingers continue their maddening exploration of your most sensitive areas, dipping and circling around your entrance without ever quite breaching you.
“oh my, looks like the chat is absolutely ravenous for more,” geto says with a smirk, leaning in close to the screen to glance at the flood of comments scrolling past. “it seems a lot of our viewers have very... specific requests for our little live show.”
his eyes flicker over the text, a devious smile growing wider on his face. “well, well, well. looks like someone wants to see me fuck your ass next,” he teases, giving your cheek a playful pinch. “how about that, baby? ready to let me split you open from both ends?”
the suggestion sends a jolt of trepidation mixed with forbidden excitement through your body. the thought of geto’s massive cock invading your most private, taboo hole is undeniably filthy—and terrifyingly arousing.
your stomach churns with a mix of dread and anticipation at the idea of geto claiming your virgin asshole. the thought alone is enough to make your pussy clench and gush, soaking his fingers as they tease your entrance. despite the terror, there’s an undeniable thrill building within you, a dark desire to surrender to his dominance and submit to whatever depraved acts he might demand.
“but..” you whimper, barely audible over the pounding of your heart. “sugu. . . i- never,” the words taste bitter on your tongue, but you can’t deny the hunger driving them. your body is already preparing itself for the brutal invasion, muscles fluttering and relaxing in anticipation.
geto’s fingers press harder against your rim, probing gently at the tight ring of muscle. a pink color spread underneath your skin, a bashfulness kissing your face, and your gaze darted from the camera.
geto laughs cruelly at your shy admission, clearly delighted by the prospect of being the first to claim such a naughty part of you. “never been touched back here, huh?” he muses, rubbing teasing circles around your clenched pucker. “well, i guess it’s lucky you’ve got me to pop your anal cherry then.”
the crowd in the chat goes wild at this revelation, dozens upon dozens of users flooding the screen with lewd encouragement and explicit demands. geto grins as he reads through some of the top replies aloud:
“someone wants me to stretch out your slutty little ass real good,” he drawls, applying pressure until the tip of his finger breaches your resistant ring. “make you scream for my cock.”
he works the digit deeper, pushing past the initial resistance and sinking knuckle-deep into your tight heat. he presses two fingers against your puckered hole, applying gentle yet insistent pressure. “but don’t worry, baby,” he coos, his voice dripping with false reassurance. “i’ll take good care of your tight little ass. just relax and trust me.”
geto glances up at the camera, a wicked gleam in his eye as he addresses the audience. “seems our girl here is a total anal virgin. can you believe it? she’s never had anything inside her pretty little ass.”
he gives your cheek a patronizing pat. “but don’t worry dirty girl, i’ll make sure to break you in nice and slow.” his lips leave a gentle kiss on your bare shoulder despite his filthy words and mean ministrations.
the sensation of geto’s fingers penetrating your untouched hole is overwhelming, sending waves of intense pleasure-pain coursing through your body. you bite your lip to stifle a moan, not wanting to encourage him further, but it’s no use— a strangled gasp escapes your throat as he pushes deeper, stretching you open inch by excruciating inch.
despite the discomfort, there’s an undeniable thrill building within you, a dark satisfaction in knowing you’re experiencing something so taboo and forbidden for the first time. geto’s words only add fuel to the fire, his taunts and promises of breaking you in igniting a hunger deep within your core.
“u-no, mmm,” you manage to choke out, shaking your head frantically even as your hips instinctively buck against his probing fingers. “please, sugu... i don’t know if i can...”
the sensation of geto’s fingers violating your untouched hole sends waves of discomfort and arousal coursing through your veins. each gentle prod and push stretches the tight ring of muscle, making your breath hitch and your body tremble. despite the pain, there’s an undeniable thrill building within you, a dark pleasure in submitting to his control and surrendering your most private parts to his use.
“a-anal...” you whimper, the word feeling foreign and dirty on your tongue.
your cheeks burn with shame and embarrassment as you confess your inexperience to the world. the knowledge that hundreds of viewers are watching, vicariously experiencing your degradation, only heightens your mortification. and yet, there’s a twisted part of you that craves their approval, their lurid fascination with your defilement.
geto watches intently as you squirm and tremble beneath his touch, your reactions only spurring him on. he crooks his fingers slightly, searching for that sweet spot deep inside that will make you lose all control.
“shhh, it’s okay, baby,” he coos, his tone a soothing balm despite the brutality of his actions. “just breathe through it. you’re doing so well.”
as he speaks, geto begins to thrust his fingers in and out of your stretched hole, gradually picking up speed. the wet sounds of his penetration fill the room, mingling with your ragged breathing and the constant chatter of the live stream.
“look at that,” he purrs, addressing the camera once more. “our little anal virgin is taking it so well. she’s practically begging for more.”
geto’s fingers plunge deeper, curling to rub against that sensitive bundle of nerves inside you. your body responds instinctively, clenching and unclenching around the invading digits as pleasure starts to override the initial discomfort.
“see how she’s trembling?” he continues, his voice low and husky with lust. “her tight little ass is loving every second of this. and just listen to those sweet noises she’s making...”
he leans in closer, his hot breath tickling your ear as he whispers, “i think our girl is starting to enjoy being claimed, don’t you?”
the camera zooms in on your flushed face, capturing every twitch and shudder as geto’s fingers work their magic. the live chat erupts with lewd comments and cheering, urging him on as he takes you further into the depths of anal pleasure.
your mind reels as geto’s fingers continue their relentless assault on your virgin hole, the sound of your own desperate whimpers filling the air. the pleasure is intense, bordering on painful, but you can’t bring yourself to stop him. somehow, the depravity of it all only serves to heighten your arousal, your body craving more even as your brain screams in protest.
“sugu’, please...” you beg, but the words lack conviction. your hips roll involuntarily, meeting each thrust of his fingers as they plunder your depths. the sensation of being filled, of having something finally breach the last barrier of your innocence, is overwhelming.
geto’s praise only fuels the fire within you, his words painting a vivid picture of your submission and the twisted desires it satisfies.
“such a needy little thing,” geto praises, continuing his relentless pace. his thumb finds your swollen clit, rubbing tight circles around the sensitive bud as his fingers curl inside you. “begging for more, aren’t you? dirty girl.”
as if to emphasize his point, he slides a third finger into your clutching heat, stretching you even wider. the added girth has you crying out, your nails digging into his shoulders as you struggle to accommodate the intrusion.
“oh, look at that,” geto coos, his eyes locked on where your body meets his. “she’s trying so hard to take it all. such a good little anal slut for me.”
tears prick at the corners of your eyes as geto’s fingers stretch you to your limits, the burning ache in your rectum intensifying with each brutal thrust. your body feels like it’s being torn apart, the pleasure and pain blending into an all-consuming agony that leaves you breathless and helpless.
“oh, fuuck!” you sob, almost scream, your voice cracking with desperation. the humiliation of being called a ‘slut’ only adds to your shame, but the way geto says it, with such reverence and adoration, makes you feel powerful in a way you never have before.
your hips jerk wildly, trying to meet his punishing rhythm even as your muscles strain to contain the invasion. the pressure builds at the base of your spine, coiling tighter and tighter until you’re certain you’ll snap in two. your body is about to fall forward, overwhelmed with his fingers stuffed in your little hole, but geto quick enough to hug your body, enveloped in the warm and secure embrace of his.
“it’s okay, it’s okay. you are good, pretty, sooo good,” he whispered a mantra in your ear, your ear only— thumb circling your stomach.
the live stream captures your writhing form, the sight of you lost in ecstasy sending the chat into a frenzy. viewers lavish praise upon you, some even placing bets on how long it’ll take before you reach your climax under geto’s skilled ministrations. but the man pulled his fingers out, “take a deep breath and pray baby, you’ll need that,” he whispered, and without further ado, his angry tip kissing your anal sex.
geto pauses for a moment, allowing you to catch your breath and steel yourself for what comes next. he reaches over to the bedside table, retrieving a bottle of lube from the drawer. you watch wide-eyed as he coats his impressive length generously, the clear fluid glistening obscenely in the dim light.
“i know it hurts, babygirl, but i promise it’ll feel so much better soon,” geto reassures as he positions himself between your spread cheeks. the head of his cock nudges insistently at your fluttering entrance, slick with pre-cum and primed for penetration.
with agonizing slowness, he begins to push inside, the thick crown breaching your sphincter with a muffled groan from both parties involved. inch by excruciating inch, he sinks deeper into your resisting flesh, pausing occasionally to let you adjust to the enormous size stretching you open.
“fuck, you’re so tight,” geto groans, his grip on your hips tightening possessively. he holds still for a moment, allowing you to acclimate to the intrusion before slowly withdrawing until just the tip remains nestled between your cheeks. then, with a sharp snap of his hips, he plunges back in, setting a brutal pace that has you seeing stars.
the pain is indescribable, like nothing you’ve ever experienced before. it borders on unbearable, your body screaming in protest as it’s invaded so ruthlessly.
your vision blurs as the pain overwhelms you, tears streaming freely down your face. it feels like you’re being split in half, impaled on geto’s massive cock as he pounds into you mercilessly. your body is no longer your own, reduced to a vessel for his pleasure as he uses you like a cheap fleshlight.
and yet, beneath the agony, there’s a flicker of something else— a dark, twisted desire that thrills through your veins like poison. the degradation, the humiliation, the utter debasement of it all... it sets your soul ablaze with a perverse sense of euphoria.
“oh my-my god!” you hear yourself cry out, your voice ragged and desperate.
geto grunts in approval, his movements becoming even more forceful as he senses your reluctant surrender. he leans over you, his chest pressed against your back as he buries his face in the crook of your neck, panting heavily.
“that’s it, thereee, fucking good,” he growls, nipping at your skin. his hands roam your body, squeezing and kneading your breasts roughly before sliding down to grasp your thighs, pushing your legs flush to your side. he uses them to pull you onto his cock with each thrust, driving himself impossibly deep.
“look at this ass, stretched out so beautifully around my cock,” geto pants, his gaze fixated on where your body meets his. “what a-fuuck a beautiful girl.”
the sound of flesh smacking against flesh fills the room, punctuated by your choked moans and geto’s animalistic grunts. the chair creaks ominously beneath you, straining to contain the frenzied activity. through the screen, geto, perfectly clear can see your glistening cunt and his cock ball deep inside your anal, a white ring around the base. his fingers bent your skin, hands grasping the flesh underneath your knees.
overwhelmed by sensation, you can barely process the words spilling from geto’s lips. his praise, his hunger, his complete and utter domination of your body—it all swirls together into a dizzying cocktail of pleasure and pain that threatens to consume you whole.
your mind goes blank, focused solely on the relentless pounding of his cock and the searing heat of his breath on your skin. you’re nothing more than a receptacle for his lust now, a mere conduit for his pleasure as he fucks you with ruthless abandon.
“suguuuuu, harder,” you manage to gasp out, your voice barely coherent. the thought of getting caught, of being exposed to the world as geto’s willing plaything, only serves to heighten your arousal. your body starts to quake, the coil of tension within you winding tighter and tighter.
geto chuckles darkly, pleased by your desperate plea. he complies eagerly, slamming into you with renewed vigor. the chair scrapes loudly across the floor as he picks up speed, the wooden frame creaking ominously under the force of his thrusts.
“oh, you want it rough, huh?” geto sneers, his teeth grazing the shell of your ear. “you like being used like a dirty little slut, don’t you?”
he punctuates his words with particularly harsh jabs of his hips, the blunt head of his cock dragging mercilessly against your sensitive inner walls. you can feel every ridge and vein, every throbbing inch of him claiming you as his own.
“fucking hell, you’re so close, aren’t you?” geto growls, his hot breath fanning over your neck.
yes, yes! you wanted to cum. you wanted to lose yourself completely, to forget everything except the raw, unfiltered pleasure coursing through your veins. you wanted to be used, to be fucked hard and fast until you saw stars.
“fuckkk,” you whimper, your voice barely above a whisper. “wanna cum, gonna cum.”
your body writhes beneath geto, a silent plea for release. your mind is a whirlwind of sensations, each one sharper and more intense than the last. the pleasure is overwhelming, bordering on pain.
the sheer depravity of the situation sends you hurtling towards the brink of ecstasy. the knowledge that hundreds of strangers are watching you degrade yourself, submitting so shamelessly to geto’s sadistic whims, pushes you over the edge.
as he senses your impending climax, a triumphant smirk playing on his lips. he redoubles his efforts, pistoning into you with reckless abandon, chasing that sweet release.
geto’s grip on your under knees tightens, his fingers digging into your flesh as he senses your impending climax. he leans in closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, “cum for me, babygirl. let go and make a mess for all these perverts to enjoy.”
his words are the final trigger you need. with a keening wail, you shatter, your orgasm ripping through you with the force of a tsunami.
“do it, cum for me,” he commands, his voice low and gravelly with lust. “let go, babygirl. show these perverts how a real slut squirts.”
his filthy words send you careening over the precipice. your entire body seizes up, convulsing violently as a torrent of pleasure crashes over you. wave after wave of ecstasy rips through your core, your pussy clenching rhythmically around the thick shaft buried deep inside you.
geto groans in satisfaction, feeling your walls flutter and milk his cock. he continues to pound into you, riding out your orgasm with brutal intensity, prolonging your pleasure for his own twisted amusement.
your mind is a blank slate, consumed entirely by the overwhelming sensations coursing through your body. your orgasm seems to last an eternity, each pulse of pleasure more intense than the last.
“ahhh,” you moan helplessly, your voice a high-pitched whine of ecstasy. tears of bliss stream down your face as you tremble and shake, lost in the maelstrom of your own climax. a span of your juice spurting the air, wetting the screen and camera as you squirt.
geto’s filthy encouragement only adds fuel to the fire, his crude words igniting a dark, shameful thrill within you. the knowledge that you’re making a spectacle of yourself, that you’re performing for an audience of voyeurs, sends a fresh wave of arousal crashing over you.
your body is a live wire, every nerve ending singing with pleasure. you can feel geto’s cock throbbing inside you, his own release imminent.
the sight of you coming undone so spectacularly, the feel of your pussy clamping down on him like a vice—it’s too much for geto to resist. with a guttural groan, he buries himself to the hilt inside you and lets go.
“fuck, ’m cumming!“ he snarls, his hips stuttering erratically as he empties himself into your waiting hole. jet after jet of hot, thick seed floods your insides, painting your walls with his essence.
geto’s grip on your legs becomes almost bruising as he rides out his climax, his cock pulsing and twitching with each spurt. he grinds against you, ensuring every last drop is deposited deep within your battered ass.
geto stood tall, barely clothed, his still-hard cock in view, a smug sense of pride in his stance now that the camera was finally off. his gaze was fixed on his phone screen, scrolling through the latest comments from his audience with a small, satisfied smirk. a cigarette rested between his fingers, the faint glow casting shadows along his jawline.
meanwhile, you, now, lay sprawled out on his bed, a thin sheet draped over your still-trembling form as you tried to steady your breathing. the room was filled with the soft, lingering haze of smoke and the residual heat of the moment, your heart still racing as you attempted to regain your composure.
geto takes a long drag from his cigarette, exhaling slowly as he reads through the deluge of comments flooding in. the praise and adoration from his fans never fails to boost his ego, and tonight was no exception.
he glances over at you, noticing your disheveled state and the way the sheet clings to your sweat-dampened skin. a wicked grin spreads across his face as he imagines the scene playing out in the minds of his viewers—the powerful, dominant man taking what he wants from a willing, if not desperate, partner.
getting bored with simply looking, geto sets his phone aside and saunters over to the bed. he looms over you, the cigarette dangling from his lips as he trails a finger down your cheek.
“not bad for a first timer, eh?” he teases, his tone laced with now amusement.
you let out a soft, tired hum, a small, satisfied smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you looked up at him. “did i do a good job?” you asked, your voice barely more than a whisper, laced with a hint of playful innocence despite the exhaustion in your eyes.
geto chuckles softly, his eyes glinting with mischief as he takes another drag from his cigarette. he leans in closer, his breath ghosting over your skin as he speaks.
“oh, you did more than just a good job, sweetheart,” he purrs, his voice low and sultry. “you were absolutely exquisite. those moans, those screams... they’re going to haunt my dreams for weeks.”
he reaches out, tracing the curve of your jaw with his free hand before tilting your chin up to meet his gaze. there’s a hunger in his expression, a primal desire that sends a shiver down your spine.
“and the best part? knowing that all those perverts out there are jerking off to the memory of watching me claim you, watching you fall apart so beautifully for me.”
geto takes another deep drag from his cigarette, the tip glowing bright orange in the semi-darkness of the room. he flicks his ash into a nearby tray, his gaze never leaving yours as he studies your expression.
“you have no idea what you look like right now, do you?” he continues, his tone rough and husky, the tone that never fails to make chills race across your skin. “a flushed, messy, trembling mess, all because of me. and i love every bit of it.”
geto takes one last drag from his cigarette, the ember at the end burning brightly, before stubbing it out in the ashtray on the nightstand. he settles down beside you, his cock stand tall and his body radiating heat as he moves closer, draping one arm casually around your shoulders.
“speaking of those perverts out there,” he says, his tone still low and sultry, “they’re already begging for more.”
he picks up his phone back, scrolling through the latest comments from his fans, his smirk widening with each new lewd comment he reads.
geto scrolls through the endless comments on his phone, snickering at some of the dirtier ones. his eyes glance over at you as he reads, a smug, almost wicked grin on his face.
“wow, they really liked what they saw tonight, didn’t they?” he comments, his tone thick with amusement. he scrolls down a bit more, the screen casting a faint glow over his features, illuminating his perfect face in the shadows.
“they can’t get enough of you. they’re pleading for more, begging for a repeat performance. and how could they not?"
he leaned down to press a chaste kiss to your forehead, a rare moment of tenderness breaking through his usual dominance. the gentle press of his lips against your forehead felt like a reward, a sign of his approval that filled you with a sense of pride and contentment.
at his words, you managed to lift your head slightly to peek at the chat, taking in the sea of emojis and the occasional message praising your performance. a small, tired smile tugged at the corners of your mouth. despite the exhaustion weighing heavily on your limbs, you couldn’t help but feel a thrill of accomplishment. you had pleased geto, and by extension, his loyal fanbase.
“that was good” you murmured, your voice hoarse from screaming. geto chuckled darkly as he scrolled through the chat, picking out some of the juiciest comments to share with you. “well, for starters, @sexyslayer89 says, ‘best fuck session ever! that dirty talk had me rock hard.’ and @cumhungrycutie remarks, ‘i wish i could squirt that much. so damn sexy.’”
he paused to smirk at you, clearly enjoying your blush at the explicit praise. “oh, and @suguruslut wants to know when you’ll be available for a threesome. apparently, she and her girlfriend are huge fans of yours.”
geto’s eyes sparkled with mischief as he continued reading aloud. “and this one’s my personal favorite: ‘@dickdrain3000 claims you’re the best cocksleeve he’s ever seen. he’s already planning his next visit.’”
taking a moment to scroll through the endless messages, geto chuckled, finding the right ones to read aloud. “look at this one— ‚best camgirl debut ever! she’s a natural.’ and here, ‘she’s got talent!’ they’re loving this, aren’t they?” he teased, flashing you a smirk before turning his attention back to the device in his hand.
“wow, looks like everyone loved seeing you take my cock like a champ,” geto said with a smirk, scrolling through the chat. “one user says, ‘damn, she took that dick so well! can’t wait to see more of her.’ another one says, ‘best stream ever, suguru! please have her come back soon!’”
he glanced at you, his eyes glinting with mischief. “seems like you’ve got quite the fanbase now too. maybe we should make this a regular thing, hmm?”
geto set his phone aside and leaned in closer, his hand trailing teasingly along your side. “of course, we’d have to practice a lot more to keep our viewers satisfied. think you’re up for the challenge?”
you let out a soft moan as geto’s fingertips traced patterns along your sensitive skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake. the idea of becoming a regular feature in geto’s streams, of having an entire fanbase eagerly awaiting your next appearance, sent a thrill of excitement coursing through your veins.
“mmm, i think Iicould get used to this,” you purred, arching into his touch. “practicing with you doesn’t seem like a chore at all.”
your eyes fluttered closed as geto’s hand drifted lower, skimming over your hip and coming to rest possessively on your thigh. the heat of his palm seeped into your skin, reigniting the embers of desire that had been smoldering since your explosive climax.
you look at his eyes before chuckling, “but you wish,” you mutter, giving his lips a peck before standing up. you take the rob that pools on the floor before slipping through the silk material.
geto watched you with darkened eyes as you stood up, the silk robe slipping over your naked body, the fabric caressing your curves in a way that made his mouth water. he couldn’t help but let out a deep, wanting moan, his eyes raking over your form as he leaned back against the headboard.
“you know, you look even more stunning in that robe,” he remarks, his voice a low rumble. “like a delicious little present, all wrapped up and ready for me to unwrap.”
he rises to his feet, towering over you with an air of confident dominance. his hands settle on your hips, fingers digging in gently as he pulls you flush against him.
his hands slide down to cup your ass, giving it a firm squeeze as he grinds his hips against yours. you can feel the evidence of his arousal pressing insistently against your stomach, hot and still hard and ready.
“hey,” he called out, his voice rough with annoyance, “where are you going?” he asks, his tone suggestive, his hot breath fanning over your face.
his hands squeeze a bit tighter, making it clear that he doesn’t intend to let you leave so easily. he leans down, pressing his lips to the sensitive spot on your neck, leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses down to your shoulder.
“you know, you’re not getting very far,” he murmurs against your skin, his voice taking on a possessive edge. “especially not when you look like that, all wrapped up in my robe, smelling like me and looking absolutely delectable.”
you let out a soft, contented hum, wrapping your arms around his shoulders as he continued to trail kisses along your skin. “i’m tired, you know,” you murmured, your fingers lightly tracing patterns on his back. despite the exhaustion weighing on you, his possessive tone and the warmth radiating from him made it hard to resist.
nestling closer, you tilted your head to rest against his, savoring the comfort of his embrace. “you wore me out,” you added with a faint smile, giving in to the way his presence made you feel so anchored, so thoroughly his.
geto chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest and reverberating against yours. he pulled you impossibly closer, his arms encircling you possessively.
“yeah, i know i did,” he replied, his voice taking on a proud, cocky edge. “but you were just too good to resist, weren’t you, baby?”
his fingers brushed against your cheek, gently tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. he leaned in to nuzzle against your neck once more, his lips skimming over your skin, leaving a trail of hot, damp kisses down to your pulse point.
geto’s lips curved into a crooked smile, his chest rumbling with a low, satisfied chuckle. he pulled you a bit closer, his arms wrapping tightly around you— hard cock pressed against your stomach, holding you snugly against his firm, toned body.
“i’ll take that as a compliment, sweetheart,” he murmured into your hair, his voice taking on a cocky, self-assured tone. “i did work you pretty hard, didn’t i?” he chuckles, his hand trailing down your spine, fingers dancing over your skin.
you rolled your eyes with a soft hum, cupping his cheek as he continued nuzzling into the crook of your neck, his lips brushing warm against your skin. “you act like you’re my boyfriend,” you murmured, a teasing smile playing on your lips.
geto chuckled at your remark, the sound deep and amused. he lifted his head to meet your gaze, his eyes sparkling with mischief.
”oh, do i?” he teased, arching a brow at you in mock surprise. “is that what i’m acting like, huh? a doting, sappy boyfriend?”
he leaned in closer, pressing his mouth against your neck, again, his lips brushing against your pulse point as he nipped playfully. “guess i can’t help it, sweetheart. you bring out the boyfriend material in me.”
you let out an exaggerated tch, rolling your eyes as you gave him a playful shove. “ugh, you’re so cringe,” you muttered, a smirk tugging at your lips despite yourself. slipping out of his hold, you turned to make a break for the door, feigning an attempt to escape the teasing.
but before you could take another step, you felt his hand catch your wrist, and in one smooth motion, he pulled you back into his arms, holding you firmly against his chest.
geto laughed, a deep, hearty rumble, as you tried to escape his grasp. he wrapped an arm around your waist, effectively trapping you against his muscular frame. his other hand came up to cup your cheek, tilting your head up to meet his gaze.
his eyes glittered with a mix of mischief and something deeper, something darker and more primal.
“oh no, you’re not going anywhere,” he murmured with a grin, his arms locking around you as he leaned down, voice low and teasing. “besides, i haven’t even gotten to the sappy part yet.”
his arm tightened around you, pressing you firmly against him, the expanse of his chest against your back. his lips grazed your ear, his voice low and sultry. “you said i was acting like a boyfriend, sweetheart. aren’t you going to let me show you how good of a boyfriend i can be?”
geto’s hand slowly crept down to your hip, pulling your body flush against his. he let his hands roam, tracing down your body with a possessive, greedy touch, as if he was determined to map out every inch of you with his fingertips.
as his lips brushed against your ear, he continued, his voice dropping even lower as he teased you.
“see, sweetheart, i was planning on whispering sweet nothings in your ear, telling you how cute and irresistible you are.” his teeth grazed your earlobe before he moved downward, his lips trailing hot kisses down your neck.
his hands roamed over your body, tracing patterns on the exposed skin of your shoulders, his touch sending shivers down your spine. “but you had to go and try to escape, didn’t you?”
you let out a soft hum, leaning into his touch for a moment before slowly turning around in his arms, pressing your back against his chest. feeling his warmth behind you, you took a step forward, guiding him toward the door while he still held onto you, refusing to let go.
“oh, i wouldn’t dream of escaping now,” you teased, glancing over your shoulder with a sly smile. each step you took brought you both closer to the doorway, his arms wrapped securely around you, following your lead as if he couldn’t bear to let you slip away. “just seeing if you’d keep up,” you murmured, daring him to match you stride for stride.
the feeling of your body against his chest sent a ripple of electricity through geto, stirring something primal and dominant within him. he tightened his arms, drawing you closer against him as you led him toward the doorway.
“little tease,” he muttered, his lips brushing against your neck with a smirk. “you know i wouldn’t dream of letting you go. not after tonight.”
he willingly followed your lead, his muscular frame pressing against your back as he allowed you to guide him. his hands continued to explore your body, mapping out every curve and contour, as if he could never get enough.
you let out a playful groan, feigning annoyance at the grown man practically glued to your back. “ugh, you’re so annoying,” you muttered, rolling your eyes as you reached for his bedroom door. with a little smirk, you stepped into the family room, feeling his weight still pressing against you.
“you really are acting like a boyfriend right now, you know that?” you teased, glancing back at him as he kept his arms wrapped around you, a mischievous spark in his eyes. though you tried to sound exasperated, there was no hiding the warmth in your voice, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth as he held you close.
before geto could even get a word out, a familiar voice cut through the room. “wow, suguru, you couldn’t even bother to put on pants after your little... steamy session?”
both you and geto whipped your heads toward the source of the voice, only to see gojo standing there, an all-too-satisfied grin plastered on his face, phone in hand. he tilted the screen just enough for you both to catch a glimpse—it was a page open to geto’s live stream from earlier, replaying a snapshot of the two of you caught in the act— of course, he watched the streaming.
a flush crept up your cheeks as you turned to geto, whose expression had shifted from smug confidence to stunned surprise. gojo let out a low chuckle, clearly amused at having caught the two of you. “and here i thought i’d just come over to borrow some sugar,” he teased, raising an eyebrow as he held up the phone for emphasis. “but it seems like i’ve stumbled onto... way more than i bargained for,” he trails off, looking down to geto’s still-hard cock in view.
gojo, geto’s best friend, was no stranger to you. he practically lived at the apartment, often popping in even when geto wasn’t home, as if he had his own invisible key. he had a habit of making himself comfortable—raiding the fridge, stretching out on the couch, or pestering you with his endless teasing whenever he saw you.
now, he stood there with that infuriatingly smug grin, clearly enjoying the way he’d caught you both off-guard. he raised an eyebrow, glancing between you and geto, clearly savoring every second of your embarrassment.
geto only hummed, unfazed, as he resumed pressing lazy kisses along your neck, his lips warm against your skin, completely ignoring gojo’s presence. he knew all too well that gojo watched his streams—and this wasn’t the first time his best friend had conveniently found a reason to drop by. after all, gojo didn’t even live in the same building, and borrowing sugar was the last thing he’d come for.
“figured you’d show up sooner or later, satoru,” geto drawled between kisses, his tone amused and unbothered, hands still holding you close. “couldn’t resist seeing her up close, could you?”
gojo smirked, stepping closer. “guess i wanted to see if it was just as good in person,” he quipped, eyes flicking between the two of you, clearly entertained by the situation.
gojo’s smirk deepened as he observed the scene before him, his eyes sparkling with mischief. it was no surprise to find geto and you in a compromising position—he knew his friend all too well.
he approached, his casual gait exuding arrogance as he drew closer. geto, ever unbothered, continued to press his lips to your skin, his hands still holding you possessively, completely unruffled by his best friend’s presence.
“well,” gojo said with a chuckle, crossing his arms over his chest. “looks like i picked the right time to pop in.”
geto only hummed in response, his kisses still lingering on your neck, his tone aloof and cocky. “yeah, go figure,” he replied, not even bothering to look up. “always had a knack for perfect timing, don’t you?”
gojo chuckled again, his eyes roaming over the sight of you, half-naked and pressed up against geto’s bare chest, the silk robe doing little to hide the evidence of your earlier activities.
geto pulled back slightly, his arm still snug around your waist, fingers splayed possessively on your hip. he looked at gojo with a knowing smirk, amusement dancing in his dark eyes.
“bet you enjoyed the show, didn’t you?” he teased, voice low and taunting as he raised an eyebrow at gojo.
gojo shrugged, a smirk playing on his lips. “what can i say?” he replied, a playful tone in his voice. “it was damn entertaining. gojo chuckled, his smirk widening as he met geto’s gaze. “can’t help but appreciate a good performance, especially when it’s got the star of your stream in it.”
he took another step closer, his eyes flickering over your form, taking in every inch with a devilish grin. “and she didn’t disappoint, that’s for damn sure.”
his talk figures just a beat, loam over you, looking down with dangerous glint, eyes sparkling like a blue flame before his eyes drifting down over your form, lingering on the silk robe that did little to conceal the marks on your skin.
“i gotta say,” he added, shifting his gaze to geto, a hint of tease in his voice. “you really did a number on her, didn’t you, man?”
geto’s chuckle was low and satisfied, a hint of pride in the sound as his fingers flexed against your hip, feeling the soft silk under his touch. his gaze drifted down to you, lingering on the marks he’d left—a visual reminder of just how completely you’d been his. a cocky grin played at his lips as he spoke.
“yeah, i did,” he confirmed, his tone dripping with self-assurance. he met gojo’s gaze, a smirk quirking at the corners of his mouth. “hard not to with a doll like this, you know?”
he gave your ass a gentle squeeze after gentle smack, his gaze sweeping over you with open admiration before flicking back to gojo. “can’t blame me.”
his arm around your waist tightened slightly, his hand possessively gripping your hip, as if he was silently staking his claim over you.
goto’s gaze drifts behind, down your form, taking in the way the silk of the robe clings to your skin, revealing more than it conceals, lift the edge of the robe to show your pretty ass to the cold air. his eyes settle on the marks and bruises that litter your body, evidence of his own rough possession and passion.
he spread the cheeks just a little before his fingers finding its way to your puckering hole, now a bit loose from the earlier physical contact. the ministration earning a moan from you, without thinking, having you clutch to gojo’s shirt and geto’s arm.
you are whimpering, whining a complaint, still too sensitive from his rough intimacy. but geto just smirk, eyes finding gojo’s, “a little loose to save thousand,” he said.
#suki ☆ #geto x reader#geto smut#geto#geto x y/n#geto x you#anime smut#geto suguru smut#jjk smut#jjk x reader smut#jjk x reader#geto suguru x reader#geto suguru
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
i love my boyfriend i love my boyfriend so mych he is so soft and warm and comfy and pretty and
#so bbing into my hands YOUR HONORRRRR#wishing i could bury myself into his arms i am so so normal. let me be completely surrounded by the dumb impulsive dramatic nerd please#still rereading the manga at a snails pace because i have the attention span of a fruit fly#but i got some progress in this weekend so i’m back up to mima and mai’s duel#and. i reread the flashback segment of jou and rishid’s duel. it was very hard to do i won’t lie >_>#it’s hard to do because i hate seeing marik in pain. i hate seeing any of my f/os in pain by extension#and i hate having to actually read what he went through and it’s made worse by how he’s literally shown *shaking* right before the ritual#like. sobs. this poor baby :( he was so tiny…#paced the kitchen for like twenty minutes just to stall even though it’s only three pages long. i’m normal#anyway hand in hand with that. i’m reminded how much of a jerk he can be agdjdhs#new found respect for rishid this read through (even though i definitely already had some before this)#like marik. my love. politely. things would not have gotten this out of hand so quickly if you let the duel end with selket#politely (x2). rishid getting struck down by a god was your fault too >_<#gosh and it’s the whole thing after when everyone is in the medical room with rishid#and they’re talking about how marik ‘abandoned’ him when things got tough#jou talks about how he was the one able to stand first because he had the support of his friends and he didn’t feel alone#that he ‘had friends waiting for him’ while rishid didn’t#and like ??? something about that messes me up so bad because i know he’s right and i know it’s pretty messed up behavior from marik#not that there was much he could do to be there with rishid since. yamima situation but#i don’t know. some part of me still adores that part of his character#the early parts of it before he redeems himself. the parts before he realizes the truth of what really happened with his father#that drive and that recklessness and eagerness to get revenge even at the cost of the ghouls and his brother#it all still comes from some place where he thinks he's doing the right thing even if it's primarily for *himself* rather than the clan#that's always been something i've loved about him. he's so stubborn. he's so determined. he does the stupidest things because of it but#i still adore him all the same for it. i adore him even more when he takes responsibility for it later#i don't remember battle city messing me up this bad but i teared up like five different times during this one duel so. *shrugs*#asghghg i love going back and rereading or rewatching episodes of him... lets me get a better grasp and sometimes a different view for him#just. picks him up and shakes him YOU GIVE ME SO MANY EMOTIONS!! some more negative than others!! but i still love him so so much#probably partially because of that lol. anyway i'm gonna go and. space out thinking of him probably okay bye#with you i feel alive
1 note
·
View note
Text
The Birdritch's Nest part 25
masterpost
“That is a lot of plants,” Jason said. He swept his eyes over the space as he slipped his lock picks back into their little pouch.
“He has a botanist friend, apparently, and she keeps giving him plants,” Dick explained as he squeezed past Jason and into the apartment.
“Why are you here again?”
“Because I have a car which is better to carry all of Danny’s stuff in than your bike,” Dick explained. He went over to the wall of plants in front of the windowed corner and squinted down at something on his phone.
Jason pulled out his own phone to glance at what Tim had sent. “You say ‘all Danny’s stuff’ like the list was long. The guy hasn’t exactly been demanding.”
“The ‘guy’ expects to actually go home in a few days,” Dick pointed out.
“And is an adult and so can, you know, actually go home,” Jason retorted.
“Damian’s attached.”
“…I concede to your point,” Jason said once that thought sunk in. “Double the clothing asked for?”
“Basically. Make sure that he has a weeks worth, Alfred can always do laundry,” Dick said before letting out a little noise of triumph and doing something over by the plants. “There, watering system turned on.”
“Congratulations, you’re a genius,” Jason drawled. “Now go get his medication gathered up and snoop a little while you’re at it.”
“I thought we weren’t supposed to be snooping,” Dick, words a teasing sing-song as he passed by.
Jason flicked him off. “Like you wouldn’t anyways. I just want to know what you find.”
“Only if you tell me what you find in the bedroom.”
“Deal.”
The bedroom was almost startlingly normal after the plant filled living main room. It didn’t look like Danny really spent much time in it beyond sleeping. The bed was absentmindedly fixed, a black down comforter over pale blue sheets. There was a paperback on the nightstand next to a lamp and a pocket sized notebook with a pen clipped onto the bent and battered cover.
It was the first thing that Jason picked up.
The notebook was obviously where Danny made notes when he was already settled in bed. As Jason flipped through the pages there was everything from to-do lists to invention ideas to… a lot of thought about wings. Jason turned the notebook in his hands. That page wasn’t in English. The language felt like it was on the tip of Jason’s tongue but he just couldn’t get it out.
Maybe some sort of dialect?
Jason couldn’t actually read it, but there was enough to piece together from similarities that tugged on his memory. Enough to understand it was about the wings. Something about the process of change? Aging?
“Hey Jay?” Dick interrupted, scattering Jason’s thoughts. “Can you read the label on these bottles? There’s some serious printing issues happening, I can’t even tell what language it’s in.”
The pill bottle felt oddly cold in Jason’s hand when he took it from Dick, but maybe the bathroom just had shit heating in this place. It would be just like Gotham builders to mess that up.
“Oh, that’s the same thing Danny is writing in here,” Jason said passing the notebook to Dick. “It’s something about wings and getting old, I think, but I can’t really read it.”
“Read it? I don’t even know what it is. Gives me a headache just to look at it,” Dick grumbled as he flipped through the notebook. “The whole bird thing has really been on his mind, hasn’t it?”
Jason gave a little huff. “Do you blame him? The guy has wings now. It would be on my mind too.”
“Yeah… guess I really can’t,” Dick said and snapped a picture of the page with the unknown writing to send to the group chat. “Any idea what it is?”
“Nope. It’s like it’s a distant dialect or that it uses some of the same alphabet of something I learned some of once. Like how Chinese and Japanese use some of the same characters, you know?” Jason explained as he opened the side table drawer and then quickly closed it again. That was more than he needed to know about Danny. “Maybe something from when I was catatonic in the league, who knows. There were a lot of languages in that place.”
“Cass or Damian might now it then,” Dick said as he eyed the drawer Jason had now moved away from.
“Don’t, trust me,” Jason said. “Did you get the medications you needed to grab?”
“Yeah, they’re in the bag. Just a standard bathroom, really. Though he keeps his toothbrush in this old mug with a hero I don’t recognize on it, someone called Phantom.”
“Doesn’t ring a bell, but it sure sounds like a hero name. Add it to the list,” Jason said as he started on gathering up the requested clothing and extra enough to last a week. “Check the closet to see if there are any shits in there that work around wings.”
Jason rolled his eyes as Dick threw the closet doors open dramatically and focused on his task. Jeans, sweatpants, underwear, what he guessed was pajamas were all added to the bag.
“So, nothing that looks like it was made for wings,” Dick said and tossed some normal shirts and a few sweaters into the bag. Jason sighed and folded them neatly. “Maybe he hasn’t had time to find any yet? It hasn’t been that long since the bird thing and seems it all started there. Or maybe he’s just always home when he’s had then?”
“Better let Alfred know then. He’ll want to get something as soon as possible.”
“Yeah, good point,” Dick agreed.
While Dick stepped out of the bedroom to call Alfred, Jason took the time to double check the list. It really was pretty basic. Jason didn’t know if Danny was just trying to not be demanding or if the guy didn’t need much, but Jason went ahead and put the bedside paperback and notebook in the bad too. Jason slung the duffel bag Dick had brought over his shoulder (he totally could have ridden his bike like this) and took a little bit of time to snoop through Danny’s bookcase while Dick finished the call. Sci-fi, horror, old text books, and a ton of notebooks filled the shelf with knickknacks and a few figures. Jason at least had to give Danny points for having some of the sci-fi classics, even if the range of works was pretty limited.
“Okay, Alfred is on it,” Dick said. “Anything else we need to do?”
“Nah, I think we’re good,” Jason said. Something made him not want to look through the notebooks, like they had already done enough snooping. It was an odd feeling. “Let’s get going, I’m hungry for whatever dinner is.”
“You’re always hungry,” Dick said.
Jason shrugged rather than dealing with how true that statement was. “I’m a growing boy.”
“You’re a trash pit.”
“Yeah, you want to go there, cereal boy?”
“Leave my cereal out of it!”
---
AN: I do love writing Dick & Jason so much. Can you tell I have an older brother? Also sorry for the mistakes I'm sure are abounding. Guess who turns out to be anemic? This critter! Maybe getting that fixed will help...
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
Kiss It Better
Curly (mouthwashing) x reader
AN: No one asked for this but CURLY DESERVED BETTER-!
Sum: You were taking care of Curly, your partner, when you just had to ask him a question that was burning you as much alive as the cockpit burned him. Did he actually crash the ship?
Warnings: 18+, gore, medical situations, Jimmy, violence, just mouthwashing in general, ablism, lots of medical stuff (from someone that knows way to much about medical shit because of being in and out of the hospital all her life)
“Morning honey.” You would force yourself to smile. You had to. You had to for him. To give him hope like he always gave you. To be a little bit of real sunshine through the day. Just wanted to take care of him. Give Anya some kind of break.
A wheeze was your greeting.
Wasn’t like it was his fault. He couldn’t really speak right now. You wondered if he would ever speak again. You would miss his voice but it’s worth it for him to live. He will live, you knew he would. You would make sure of it.
“Let’s have a look at you.” You would grab the clipboard that Anya left for you and took a look over. The small little list to help you understand how to care for his issues. When to wash him, what time his medications were, whatever routine was needed for that day. Was your Bible so to speak. You followed it to the last ink splotch.
“Your bandages don’t look to need to be changed yet, your IV bag needs to be changed, I’ll check your catheter, and yada yada yada. Wanna try and swallow today? Maybe if you can swallow some water I can grind up the pain pills into powder for you. Wanna try?”
He gave two distinct blinks for yes.
“Wonderful. Let me do this routine, so you can mentally prepare.” You would explain, as you went to slip on the latex gloves. Didn’t want to risk transferring some kind of infection. He’s already fighting for his life as it is. No need to make it harder.
You would first change out his IV bag, since he needed to stay as hydrated and fed nutrients as possible, before working on the awkward catheter. Luckily Anya made it very easy to use. She had opted for a condom catheter since she didn’t want to put himself at anymore risk to infections, and pain, as possible. Seemed the trauma made it rather impossible to control his bowls anyway so it worked out. All you had to do was drain the bag, wash it, and reattach it to the side of the table. Wasn’t like he was going to be moving around much anyway.
“So Daisuke was showing me his gameboy. Teaching me about how the lore works and all that. I really had no idea what he was talking about, but it’s better than Swansea snoring.” You laughed, and did your best to keep yourself peppy. To help Curly feel somewhat involved with society. To not just be trapped in the med bay alone. Daisuke and Swansea would visit, and Anya did what she could medically, but sometimes you just need someone to talk to.
“Think it’s a rouge like game. That’s nice. Helps keep you entertained with wanting to break through more and more dungeons in one session.” You rambled, before reattaching the bag. Had you sigh in relief to see you didn’t mess up the chord. Some urine had already started to fill the bag. Must have been triggered by the new IV. Good good. Everything was correct.
“You ready?” You asked, as this was always the hardest part. Getting medication in him. Anya would do her best but you couldn’t blame her for struggling. It’s such a mental tax to try and take care of someone but it results in more pain. You were willing to take that burden. You were his partner after all. You felt it’s only fair you take care of him. Gave Anya some breathing room to actually care for herself. She deserved to take care of herself to.
With two clear blinks you would get to work.
You would slip your hand under his back, and forced him to sit up. He groaned in pain, and tried his best to keep his head upright, as you two tried to work together. To survive this. To try and fight through.
“You are doing so well.” You reassured, as your brought the water bottle up to his open mouth. He was able to let his head hang back, and did what he could to open his throat. Was awkward, but he managed to do it. He took a proper swallow of water. You could hardly hide your excitement.
“You did it! Oh my god you did it!” You couldn’t help but kiss his cheek. It hurt, of course, but he very much felt it was worth it. He had his own pride in being able to do some kind of basic human function again.
You would lay him back down, and was quick to grind up medication to put in the water bottle. You couldn’t wait to tell Anya his progress. You were positive the rest of the crew would be happy to hear the progress.
Well…..Most of the crew.
You used your anger towards Jimmy to help you grind the pain killers into powder. Oh how you hated him. You knew deep down he was responsible for the crash. You knew he was. You weren’t sure why he would be, but you just knew that Curly would never. If he had to, for whatever reason, he would have come on to the intercom to inform everyone to prepare for a crash. He would have done something. Anything.
What purpose would there be in crashing the ship?
Jimmy was his copilot. He would be the only other person to have access to the cockpit. He had to have been involved somehow. There had to have been something going on. You just knew it.
You just wish you had proof.
You sighed, as you would shake up the powder in the bottle. Made sure it was fully dissolved to avoid any issues with it going down his throat.
You just couldn’t understand.
Why would Jimmy crash the ship?
You would return back to curly, and do the same routine again. Slow, and small, drips into his throat. Would take a while, and would make your arm beg for death, but this would make life easier for Curly. That’s all that mattered. A arm cramp is worth it to help Curly survive.
“Curly…..Since you are more lucid now I….I just gotta ask something.”
The way his eye darted towards you said he knew what you were going to ask. Knew that it’ll be asked. He knew, and he couldn’t help but try and look towards the door. As if afraid someone would walk in.
That had you very concerned.
“…..Jimmy crashed the ship, didn’t he?” You whispered. Tried to be as hush as possible, in case someone did overhear. Was just the slow drips of the water into his dry mouth, and you.
One blink.
Two blinks.
“I fucking knew it.” You gritted your teeth, as you felt stupid to ever even have the slightest doubt that any possible reality there would be that Curly would do such a thing.
“I wish I could ask you why. Do…Do you know why?” You had to ask. You just needed to know. Know if Jimmy was as dangerous as you thought.
One blink.
T-
“How’s the captain doing?”
You would turn your head sharply, and saw Jimmy. Just standing there. God you were terrified how long he had been there. Did he hear what you asked? Didn’t seem so. Jimmy was a very aggressive person. He snapped at the slightest tone shift. If he heard you ask a question like that you wouldn’t be talking now.
“He’s….Alive.” You were caught rather off guard. You didn’t know what to say. You were scared of him. You had to be brave, though. You had a better chance at defending yourself. Curly couldn’t.
You would hear his heavy foot steps come closer, and out right feel his body heat against yours. Just looking over your shoulder. Was like this burning shadow over you. Made you feel like you’ll be squashed like a bug.
“Has he been able to talk yet?”
That’s a weird question to ask. Why not ask how he’s feeling, what progress he’s made, how his vitals are. Why is him talking on the front of his mind?
Because Curly knew something he shouldn’t.
“No. I think he’s lost his voice for good. I don’t think he’s ever going to speak again.” You lied, as you finished the test of the bottle. Returned your partner back on the table, and spun around. Nose to chest to the man. Had you terrified, but you must be brave. For Curly.
“Damn. Rough for him. No more barking orders, huh?” Jimmy tried to joke, but you could only give an awkward laugh at. Mostly to keep from pissing him off.
If he’s willing to crash a ship what else is he willing to do?
“Did you need something?” You managed to force out, as you grabbed the clipboard. Just trying to find an excuse to not look directly at Jimmy. To have a motive as to why you would stay in the med bay longer than most. Just anything to get Jimmy to leave you two alone.
“Hey, I give a shit to about him. Is it criminal to care about my friend?” He snapped at you, and it made you grab your clipboard tighter. You swore he seemed to smirk at seeing you so startled. Like he got off to the idea that he got the captains sweetheart scared.
That he’s the new boss.
“Never said that. You are the co pilot and new captain. You-“ “Pilot now. As if he’s ever going to steer a ship again. Not even a wheelchair with those stumps.” He snorted, as you wanted to smack him across the face.
“Yes….As the new Pilot and Captain I would figure you would be swamped in work. Like finding a way for us to contact help. Kinda the biggest priority after Curly. Anya and I are busy with him. You, Daisuke, and Swansea can handle the rest.”
You noticed how he seemed to roll his eyes about Anya. As if he couldn’t care less about the woman. Made you curious on what kind of beef he would have with her. She’s Anya! Who hated her?
“Yeah. Guess you are right there.” He muttered, as if it was never on his mind. Never an option that they could escape. Oh how you were getting chills.
“Keep on trucken then. Take care of our Captain Cripple. His ass needs all the help his stumpy limbs can get.” He would give him a once over, before looking at you. You made sure to keep your eyes to the clipboard instead. All you did was nod in acknowledgment, before he left.
“What are we going to do, Curly?” You sighed, as you would just lay next to him in defeat. What can you do? You had no idea. Curly was always such a good captain. Made you regret never paying more attention to how he worked the cock pit. Maybe if you did you could be more useful.
As you were full of worry and regret, Curly would weakly try and turn his head. Naked teeth were against his cheek. A attempt to kiss your cheek the best he could.
You smiled at the gesture, and made sure to be careful with snuggling your face into his shoulder.
“I’ve got you, and you got me. We can do this. I know it.” You reassured you both, as you closed your eyes. There to wait until his pain medication kicked in, so he could sleep.
As you relaxed, you couldn’t help but swear something was strange about his breathing.
It was like….He was saying words.
You would focus as hard as you could on your ears, as he would drift in and out of his buzzed state. Fighting to stay awake, but sleep coming for him.
“A….a…n…ya…..Kn….ows……”
Part 2
#mouthwashing#mouthwashing anya#mouthwashing game#mouthwashing curly#mouthwashing jimmy#Captain curly#curly x reader#captain curly x reader#mouthwashing x reader#x reader#horror#horror game#indie game#indie horror game#indie horror#x reader horror#horror fiction#medical horror#anxiety#fear#I love this game so much#Anya deserved better#everyone deserved better#except Jimmy#fuck you Jimmy#eat shit and die#pony express#tulpar#poor baby#rip curly
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
lending a hand — lando norris
lando norris x fem!reader [5.5k] summary: exams are coming up and studying for it turns out to be more tedious than usual. luckily, lando is around & more than eager to lend a helping hand. warnings: 18+ fingering, dirty talk, protected sex (piv), brief oral, doggy, missionary, dom!lando, derogatory name calling, choking, slapping (lando smacks a tit and ass lol), everything is absolutely consensual a/n: HI EVERYONE!! i know it's been agesss since i came on here and i'm still kind of on a hiatus because i just haven't been feeling tumblr lately. i wrote this piece a while back for another cc but they've since then showed themselves to be a bad person and i don't wanna be associated with that. so i rewrote and added some things because i really like this one. so hopefully you do too :') i love u and miss u all so much, i'll hopefully jump back on when i've got my mojo back!! read before interacting: I suck at biology and googled every single medical term and everything it’s got to do with it. i’m so sorry if i wrote something incorrectly, please don’t come for me. thank you x
The air was stifling hot and damp, your fingers were cramping up and the words on your textbooks were starting to blur into one big mess the longer you stared at them. There were so many books laid out in front of you, pictures of cartooned organs and human anatomy that on any other day, would be of massive help. But right now they just made your head hurt even more.
When your fingers cramped up for the fourth time, you let go of your pencil and watched it land softly on the sheets in front of you. You were in serious need of a massage, tension rippling in your body that would only perish once your final exams were over and done with. It wasn’t long until you took them, two weeks to be exact but the stress was weighing heavier on you than you’d like to admit.
The only thing pushing you forward was the fact that you’d be one step closer to graduating and the promised deep massage in Monaco’s finest spa.
Your boyfriend had been the true pillar in your life. Lando been so patient and tried to help in any way he could when you’d seek comfort in his arms and awkwardly stumbled words. Poor thing didn’t know how to make your stress go away when you were at your worst, but he certainly tried his best and that was all that mattered. Lando felt helpless at those times, but he found himself relaxing when he held you and could feel the tension in your shoulders lessen.
You’d been neglecting him for over a week now, but he was nothing if not understanding and he took advantage of that time to spend more in front of his computer with his friends or even the racing sim, while you holed up in your shared bedroom.
It had made you feel a little guilty at first, seeing as it was his season break and he’d intended to spend his free time with you but your schedules didn’t align enough. There were only so many hours you could spend procrastinating before the stress got to be too much.
You’d first opted to sit next to him while he played and streamed but you’d found him too big of a distraction so it hadn’t been long before you migrated to your bedroom. Hearing him from down the hall was comfort enough.
It was as if your thoughts had summoned him, the creak of the door pulling your attention to it and you blinked away the blur in your eyes to watch his upper body and head peak through the space. The curls on his head were wild, unrulier than usual and you’d have taken a step back to admire them if you had the strength to.
“You alright?” He asked tentatively, and you nodded with a wave of your hand; Gesturing for him to come in because suddenly you were in need of his comforting hug.
He’d gone quiet in his office a while ago and you figured he’d gone offline, not hearing a peep from him. Or maybe you’d had, and just didn’t notice.
“You need a break.” Lando murmured as he stepped inside, coming to stand by the bed.
You blinked up at him and realised the blur in your eyes were from unshed tears of exhaustion. It seemed as if Lando realised it at the same time you did, letting out a surprised soft laugh as he pouted his bottom lip in sympathy.
“Darling.” He reached out both of his hands to cradle your face, thumbs reaching out to swipe beneath your eyes. “This isn’t healthy.”
“I’m not crying, I swear.” You placed your hands over his, letting out a watery laugh at the worry in his eyes. “I’m just tired. These words aren’t making sense anymore.”
Lando made a sound in his throat, turning to plop down on the bed. You tried to keep the scowl from showing on your face when he moved around the meticulously arranged papers on the sheets, but he saw it and grimaced in something you guessed were apologetic.
“How about we go out and get something to eat?” Your boyfriend suggested, laying down on his side and propping his head up with the help of his hand.
“I’m not hungry.” That was a lie.
You’d been cooped up in your room for over - you glanced at the clock and winced - three hours, and the last time you’d ate was a bowl of yogurt and granola. It wasn’t healthy, and you always made a point of eating before your insides started twisting with hunger, but it was easy to get carried away while revising.
“Don’t pull that shit on me.” Lando’s eyes rolled, reaching a hand out to nudge you in the side to garner a reaction out of you. You jumped with a startled giggle, swatting at his hand. “Just an hour and then we’ll be back, I promise.”
You shook your head, no matter how tempting that offer was. You knew yourself well enough to know that you’d go out to eat, come back and then push studying aside to cuddle in bed with him. And seeing as the both of you hadn’t gone further than kissing for the past week, Lando would definitely not protest if you procrastinated in order to spend some quality time with him.
“Lan, I love you but I really cannot abandon this until I’m done.” You gestured to the mountain of stress in front of you.
Lando followed the gesture with his eyes, stretching a hand out to pluck a notebook with your scribble on it. You watched him scan it, a furrow making its way between his bushy eyebrows and it made you smile involuntarily. He looked absolutely adorable and so very confused.
“Medical terminology…” He read before trailing off with a sound of aversion. “So… What? You need to memorise these words?”
It would be a lie if you said that you hadn’t been a little distracted while he skimmed over the pages as if he understood what the words such as Popliteal and Supraclavicular meant. You were too busy looking at the arch of his nose and the tempting pout of his lips, admiring the slight redness covering the apples of his cheeks.
His eyes flicked up and you blinked back to reality, ignoring the teasing smile playing on his lips as you answered his previous question with a forlorn nod. You watched him light up slightly as an idea struck him.
“What?”
“What if I help you out?” He asked, sitting up slightly.
You almost laughed. Help? You’d be a delicious distraction.
“How would you help me?” You asked instead, smiling as he sat up fully and waved the notebook in his hand between you two. As if that would answer your question.
“May I?” He asked and you looked at his hand hovering over the textbooks.
It took you a second to realise what he was asking and you almost shook your head no, but Lando looked too excited and you weren’t about to rain on his parade so you nodded.
He didn’t waste any time with packing everything up and placing them in a surprisingly organised pile on the floor by the bed, keeping the notebook he’d been holding close by as he scooted up the bed and laid down with his head on the pillow. You gazed at him questioningly, feeling lost.
“Wow… You sure cleared my confusion up.” You said slowly after a beat of silence.
You watched your boyfriend roll his eyes, so sassy and so Lando it made your chest hurt with adoration.
“Alright smartass. Come here.” His hand circled your wrist and the tug almost sent you flying over him. You squealed in surprise, thankfully steadying yourself before you toppled over and looked down on Lando between the curtain of hair that had fallen over your face. “Sorry.”
You slapped his chest lightly and rearranged yourself so you were straddling his thighs gently as he’d probably intended to have you do from the start. The position made unexpected arousal flare up in your abdomen and it wasn’t disappearing any time soon with the way Lando was looking up at you from his position.
“Alright, can you please tell me what’s going on?” You asked nicely and placed your hands over his where they’d snuck up and found a home on your thighs.
He freed one hand and grabbed yours, fingers slotting nicely between yours and you resisted the sudden urge to grind down on him. Something about this man made you shamelessly feral.
“Okay so, you have to memorise all this gibberish and what better way than to practice on me?” He finished his sentence by tugging softly on your hand and you bent down when you understood his silent request, slotting your lips against his.
His lips felt soft and you couldn’t help but open up to his tongue, your body automatically melting into his as his free hand found its place on the small of your back to pull you in closer.
You allowed yourself a few seconds before sitting back up in his lap, feeling slightly disoriented.
“Is this your way of getting me into bed?” You narrowed your eyes jokingly in suspicion, earning a laugh from him.
“No, I genuinely want to help. But I wouldn’t mind you in bed with me, either.” He replied, pushing his hips up to readjust his position and jostling you in the process. “Go ahead, where do you wanna start?”
You pursed your lips in thought, deciding that starting at his face and working yourself down was the best way to do it. You were, after all, already sat on his legs and had made yourself quite comfortable. With your decision made, you placed one hand on the left side of Lando’s head and got close to him.
Lando sucked his lips into his mouth, big eyes watching you in silence but his facial expression said it all. It truly had been too long since you’d had sex, but maybe there was a way of incorporating intimacy into studying. Who birds, one stone and all that.
“So, this is the frontal.” You murmured, the other hand coming up to swipe a gentle finger across his forehead before moving down to his cheekbone. “The zygomatic bone.”
Lando blinked slowly, but he stayed silent as your fingers trailed down over the slope of his nose. A giggle left your lips as he scrunched his nose, the skin moving beneath the tips of your fingers.
“The nasal,” You muttered, trailing your fingers up to gently touch his eyelids as he closed his eyes. You couldn’t help but place soft kisses over each of them, watching him flutter them open to look at you. His eyelashes were ridiculously long and seductive. You hated it. “Oculus.”
Lando shifted beneath you, tongue coming out to wet his lips and you were immediately drawn to the sheen of them. You let out a small desperate breath, closing the small distance between the two of you for a kiss. Your boyfriend made a sound in his throat and you pulled back barely an inch to whisper.
“Oral cavity.” Before diving back in for a second kiss that he was more than happy to reciprocate.
It was easy to lose yourself in his touch and the warmth of his body against yours, your hand coming up to grab his thick hair in your grip while his circled around your body to pull you flush against him.
“Lando…” You let out a small whine when he pulled back to bite on your bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth in a way that had your toes curling. “Fuck me.”
Any other day and you’d probably flush at the way you sounded so whiny, but you didn’t have time to overthink it before your boyfriend gathered up what remained of his self restraint to pull back. You chased his lips and only got a nip back, making you pout down at him.
“Keep going.” He ordered and you scooted up so your nether regions were flush against each other. He hissed your name in warning, “Don’t be a brat, finish what you started.”
You huffed and opened your mouth to protest but caught yourself when you saw the expression on his face. Shit, he really wasn’t playing around.
“Fine.” You bit out, wiggling a little in place to feel the smooth hardness of Lando between your legs.
The man in question tutted and reached out to grip your throat in a hold, gentle but it was strong enough to catch you off guard and still yourself in his lap.
“What is this part called?” He asked, awfully casual for someone who was half hard with their hand wrapped around your throat.
He flexed his fingers lightly and you searched your muddled brain for the answer, fighting the urge to moan when he squeezed. It wasn’t fair, he knew what he was doing to you.
“The esophagus.” You whispered, not daring to look away from his intense gaze as he carefully unwrapped his fingers from said body part, two of his fingers tapping your chin before resting on your bottom lip.
“Open.” He commanded softly and you did, without question.
You held his eyes as he slid two fingers inside, tasting the saltiness of his skin as he stroked over your tongue. The urge to gag hit you when he slid too far down, eyes watering when he wiggled his fingers inside teasingly.
“What’s this called?” He asked, and you could see the teasing pull of the corners of his mouth when you glared down at him.
How am I supposed to respond with your fingers down my throat? Your eyes screamed, but Lando merely raised his eyebrows and pressed his fingers forward in retaliation.
You gagged, a sound of despair escaping your drooling mouth.
You tried to reply with “Pharynx” but the words came out as a jumbled mess and you drooled down his fingers. But it was apparently good enough for Lando because he pulled back slightly to let you breathe more properly, stroking the width of your tongue in a silent command. You sucked on his fingers, cleaning them off of any saliva before he retrieved them entirely.
“Good girl.” The rasp in his voice made your stomach swoop as he smiled at you, placing his hands on either side of your hips. “Go on.”
You stared at him, not entirely sure what to do but he gave you the answer when he tugged on your t-shirt; A silent urge to take it off. You didn’t waste any time, grabbing it by the hem and lifting it off your torso; Almost falling over in the process. Lando chuckled at your eagerness and your face burned, but you refused to let that affect you. The two of you looked at one another for a beat before he dropped his gaze to your heaving, exposed chest. Never had you been happier to have foregone a bra, especially when he stroked both hands up your sides. He felt your skin beneath his palms, a shiver escaping you.
“Please,” You whispered, grinding down on the hardness beneath you. Your eyes fluttered.
“Please what?” His voice sounded teasing, bright eyes trained on you.
Instead of answering him verbally, you grabbed his hands in yours and placed them over the swell of your breasts. Lando inhaled at the feel of them in his palms, letting you squeeze his hands in yours. A moan escaped your mouth as his thumbs swiped over your nipples until they pebbled, back arching into his hold.
“So needy for me.”
His rough voice had you opening your eyes and he must’ve seen something in them because he took pity on you. The yelp that left your lips was anything but attractive when he embraced you and flipped you both over. Lando laughed when you bounced on the mattress, and you couldn’t help but giggle as the tension broke.
“Please, Lando.” You pleaded after the both of you had calmed down from your little fit, hands coming up to feel the taut of his stomach over his t-shirt.
You sounded needy in your own ears but you didn’t really care. And judging by your boyfriends teeth sinking into his bottom lip, he loved hearing you like this.
“Please what, darling?” His eyebrows drew together in fake sympathy, his gaze dropping to your chest when you arched your back.
You opened your mouth to answer him but the words died on your lips the second Lando leaned down and sucked a nipple into his mouth. You should’ve seen it coming, because he could never keep away from your tits for too long but the suction made you gasp all the same, hands coming up to grab at the back of his head.
“Just fuck me already.” You said.
Lando grabbed the both of your hands in his before pinning them to the side, suckling harsher on your teat before kissing his way over to the other side. You didn’t know what to focus on, the cool air on your wet nipple, his unforgiving mouth on the other one or the way his hands were digging into the skin of your wrists. The thought of him bruising you made you buck your hips up, craving it more than ever.
“You’re impatient tonight.” He drew back, blowing cool air on your saliva soaked skin and making you squirm. “I can’t decide whether I should punish you for being a needy little slut or fuck the brattiness out of you.”
You knew you shouldn’t talk back, but the words were out of your mouth before you could stop them.
“Anything would be better than this.” It came out as an indignant mutter but Lando’s eyes flared in challenge.
It was quick and you didn’t have time to react to his hand sailing down and slapping the meat of your breast. You yelled out in shock, feeling your pussy clench around nothing as you tried to sit up as an automatic response. Lando tutted, quickly grabbing you by the throat and pushing you down with a strength that had you gasping for breath.
“This is what happens when I don’t fuck you for a week,” He hissed, eyebrows drawn in anger but you could see the desire in his eyes as he bent down to your eye level. “One week without my cock and you start acting like a bitch.”
Holy fuck, the filth coming from his mouth made your nerves light up in anticipation. It had been too long, so fucking long since he talked and behaved like this. You hadn’t realised how much you missed it until now.
His hand let go of your throat and instead cupped your chin, his fingers squeezing your mouth together until your eyes fluttered shut in need with a moan. Lando grinned down at you, tightening his grip just to watch your eyes roll before pressing a filthy kiss to your mouth that you barely had time to reciprocate before he pulled back.
It felt like you were in a daze, feeling him pull your sweatpants off along with your panties. He made an offhand comment about the wetness that you didn’t register, choosing to grit your teeth and ball your fists to keep from touching yourself instead.
Lando undressed himself without getting off the bed, albeit a little clumsily but he recovered quick and grabbed your thighs to spread them apart. The look on his face made you flush hot all over, almost like you were a meal he couldn’t wait to devour.
“Look at that, so wet already.” He hummed in appreciation and coated one finger in your slick before sinking it inside of you, revelling in your gasps. “All this for me, baby?”
“Mmm,” You swallowed, throat drying up and eyes closing at the sensation. “Just for you, Lando.”
“That’s what I thought.” He said smugly.
He sank a second finger inside and scissored them until he deemed you stretched enough, his free hand stopping your thighs from closing when you started to feel him pull out. It had been too long since you’d been touched like this, and Lando was always so talented with his fingers. He could truly play you like a fiddle.
“Don’t.” He growled, the tone of his voice making you squirm and separate your legs obediently again. “Good girl.”
You watched him in silence as he pulled his fingers out, slipping them into his mouth to clean them off with a hum that you felt in your core. Sweat was beading on your forehead and you were sure that you looked a mess. Lando didn’t seem to mind it though, his eyes roaming appreciatively over your body before settling on your face. His eyes softened at whatever he saw in your eyes and something warm bloomed in your chest.
“Kiss me, please?” You begged, suddenly needing him near you.
Lando didn’t hesitate as he bent over to press his mouth to yours, the kiss uncharacteristically gentle consider how crudely his cock was pressing against your mound, one hand sinking into your hair to tilt your head to his liking. He broke the kiss for a moment to reach to the side, opening up the drawer with a groan and rifling through the contents. You watched in mild amusement, taking in the pinch of his eyebrows and the concentration on his face. You took the opportunity to press kisses to his shoulder and up his throat, your tongue tasting the saltiness of his sweaty skin. Lando’s unstable position faltered and you sucked a small lovebite into the delicate skin of his neck for good measure.
“Fuck.” He swore with a breathless laugh, steadying himself and sitting upright.
You smiled up at him, planting your feet on the bed and bending your legs so Lando could get even closer to where you needed him the most. His bright eyes found yours, eyebrows rising. He bit into the tinfoil, tearing it open and fishing the condom out to slip it on.
The rubber wasn’t needed, not really. But Lando knew you well enough to know when you had enough energy after the deed to clean yourself up, and today wasn’t one of those days. He would often do it himself, ignoring your embarrassing protests as he wiped you down with a cloth and eventually giving up when he swatted your hands away.
Anticipation rose in you when he positioned himself but he seemed to change his mind at the last second, a devilish smile widening on his lips when he patted the side of your hip twice. You knew what that meant and you bit your lip in uncertainty. The dreaded position you loved and hated at the same time.
“Turn around and don’t make me ask twice.” Lando said after reading the look on your face and you made a noise that sounded a lot like dislike.
But you definitely didn’t want to stall it any longer, so you turned your body around and pressed your cheek against the mattress with your eyes closed. This position hit absolutely every nerve inside of you, but it also left you completely exposed and that’s mainly why you hated it.
Lando grabbed your hips and lifted you upwards so your knees were beneath you, exhaling as he slid his hands from your ass and down your back. The feel of his palm against the skin of your back made you arch despite your initial hesitation and something about that made the man behind you feel all the more needier.
“So fucking gorgeous,” You heard him whisper and you believed it. “Can’t wait to sink into this pretty little cunt.”
Unexpected heat shot down your back and you moaned, pressing back against Lando in hopes that he’d finally get the hint and fuck you. Your hands gripped the sheets on either side of your bed in anticipation at the thought.
“Fuck me, please.” It came out as a whispered plea.
“I will, don’t worry, love.”
And with that promise, he nudged himself inside. You arched in response, eyes shutting as he started pushing inside little by little. The stretch was incredible, making your toes curl and mouth open in a silent moan. Lando let out a sound of his own as he bottomed out, one hand grabbing your hips while the other settled over the small of your back to push down gently. You arched, and he seemed to like that because he immediately drew back before thrusting back in.
He found a rhythm you assumed he liked and you matched it by pushing back when he pushed in. A wave of heat overtakes you and your eyes roll in your sockets the harder he thrusts; Like a man on a mission, eager to bury himself inside you as far as he can go.
It hadn’t occured to you just how badly you’d been neglecting Lando lately, but it was evident in how his hands grabbed anywhere he could find purchase, your name leaving his mouth in a chant as he fucked you harder. You needed this as much as he did.
“Fuck, oh my God.” You tried to pull your hand back to touch yourself but you were jostled too harshly and you ended up being thrown off balance.
A high pitched whine left your mouth as Lando slipped out and just as you were about to turn your head to look at him, he’d grasped your hips and turned you around on your back. He reached for the pillow next to your head, stuffing it under your hips and kissing just beneath your navel in the process as a silent praise for raising your hips without him having to ask.
You watched with bated breath as he pressed kisses down your stomach, over your mound before latching his mouth onto your clit. The unexpected touch of his sinful mouth had you throwing your head back, squeezing your eyes shut.
“Oh my God, Lando...” You moaned, attempting to tilt your head down so you could watch him but he was quick to flick his tongue against your clit and it only made you arch into his mouth.
Lando was holding the base of his cock, squeezing and willing himself not to blow too soon. He’d been waiting to get inside you long enough and he wasn’t about to end it before he’d had his fill of you. When he deemed it safe enough, he pulled away and positioned himself between your legs before sliding in. His teeth sunk into his bottom lip at your reaction, loving the flutter of your eyelids and the pretty way your mouth opened in a pathetic moan.
He couldn’t help but lower himself down onto you, mindful as to not suffocate you but just enough for you to feel the press of his chest against yours as he started fucking into your wet heat.
You took it like a champion, arms circling his upper body and legs falling open as he fucked you into the mattress with reckless abandon. The stress you’d been feeling the past week was slowly seeping out of you, and you welcomed the feeling of it as you brought Lando to your mouth, kissing him until you lost your breath.
“You’re so pretty,” Lando murmured against your lips breathlessly. “My pretty baby.”
He slid one hand between the two of you, long fingers finding your clit and rubbing it in a way that had you crying out against his mouth. Lando refused to blink, didn’t want to miss the look on your face as he brought you closer to euphoria.
“You know what this is, baby?” He asked, hand cupping your pussy and trying not to falter when he felt where the two of you were connected.
Fuck, you were soaking and Lando was really about to blow.
“This is mine.” He hissed, watching the way your eyes rolled before shutting. “Only I get to fuck it, you hear me?”
You opened your mouth to respond that yes, of course it fucking is - but the loud cry that left you instead surprised the both of you as your body tensed up, pussy clenching around his cock as you sobbed through your orgasm. Liquid heat trickled down your back and you momentarily blacked out at the sheer force of you tensing up in your climax.
“Oh fuck.” Lando hissed, dropping his head against the crook of your neck and fucking into your clenching pussy.
If your sounds and the look on your face wasn’t enough to bring him to his end, then the feel of your legs circling around him and locking him into place was enough to do his head in. You moaned weakly as he tensed up in your arms, shooting into the condom and grinding into your sensitive cunt, like he wanted to bury himself as deep as possible.
He probably didn’t realise that in his high, he’d dropped his entire weight on you but you absolutely didn’t mind it; Finding comfort in his heaving body and the feel of his damp hair as you buried your fingers into it.
“God, you’re gonna fucking kill me.” He garbled against your skin as he pulled himself out of you, lifting his head weakly to take a look at you.
You couldn’t help but grin at his flushed face and blown wide pupils, feeling thrilled that this gorgeous man loved you. And you loved him, so much.
“I could really go for a sandwich from the deli down the street right now.” You whispered dreamily, closing your eyes shut as he brought a shaking hand up to swipe a few damp strands from your forehead.
Lando pulled a face.
“If you think we’re not gonna order in, you’re sorely mistaken.”
He shook his head at the thought of leaving the bed - leaving you naked in his bed - to buy sandwiches. No matter how absolutely amazing they were. You blinked up at him with big eyes, pouting your lip and Lando knew right then that he’d lost any willpower he’d had left.
“Oh, you’re good.” He narrowed his eyes, sneaking his hands down to tickle your sides.
You squealed, squirming underneath him and yelling at him to stop, your body too weak to fight back. Lando kept going for a few seconds before he let you push him to the side so you were half laying on top of him instead.
“You’re evil.” You glared at him, but he could see the twitch of your raw lips and the love in your eyes so he didn’t take it too hard.
Lando gripped your chin gently and brought you in a for a kiss before pulling back to look at you. You blinked back and he smiled.
“Alright I’ll go down to the shop in one condition.” He said, trying to sound serious despite the massive grin on his face. “You hop in the shower, and then I want all these books gone from this room by the time I get back. We’re taking the rest of the night off.”
You suppressed a smile at the “we”, nodding your head reluctantly instead because for once you weren’t overwhelmed with stress and you weren’t about to bring it all back when Lando had worked so hard to relieve you of it. Hopefully he’d relieve you of it a couple more times later tonight.
“It’s a deal.” You agreed verbally, bringing your pinky to hook into his own.
“Alright, let’s get to it.” He brought an arm around and slapped your ass.
You jumped with a gasp, glaring at your boyfriend who cackled and jumped out of bed before you could kick him in retaliation. He looked amused as he walked around the bed to find tissues and get rid of the condom, cleaning himself up the best he could. He found the clothes he’d thrown on the floor, pulling them on all the while watching you stretch on the bed like a cat. It was so tempting to crawl back into bed and have his way with you but he gritted his teeth and turned to locate his wallet and phone.
“Text me your order, I’ll see you in a bit.” He said and leaned down to press two kisses to your lips, making a noise in his throat when you wound your hands in his hair and pulled him closer for a few more kisses. “I love you.”
You grinned against his mouth, teeth knocking together but you were too happy to care as he nipped your lower lip and pulled himself up to stand straight.
“Love you too. Be safe.”
You watched him walk out, smiling to yourself at how incredibly lucky you were.
#lando norris#lando norris x reader#lando norris x you#f1 fic#f1 smut#lando norris smut#lando norris fanfic
3K notes
·
View notes