#eighties peaks

[stingrachelmha]

Their moms wanted a photo

[murasaki-cha]

If anyone is wondering what I've been doing these past few days..........

They own me now

BUT SERIOUSLY THE CHOKEHOLD 86 EIGHTY SIX HAS ON ME!!! I finished both parts of the anime and am close to finishing vol.4 of the light novel!!

Do you want a story set on a dystopian world? Pick up 86 Eighty Six

Do you want to see two mutual pining idiots so oblivious everyone can tell they're in love with each other but them? Pick up 86 Eighty Six

Do you want to read about the cruel reality of war, child soldiers, racial discrimination, survivor guilt and how machinery evolution is almost annihilating the human race? Pick up 86 Eighty Six

Do you want to read about lonely individuals filled with scars both figurative and physical find healing and a purpose in the other person and a group of friends who have seen nothing but war and cruelty find a family in each other? 86 EIGHTY SIX!!!

[s3v3r3dh3ad]

Nothing will ever hurt my heart more than knowing that nobody ever bought the $40,000 exact replica of the Dethklok fountain when it was available.

[skyburger]

u know when i started getting into metal gear and i finished mgs1 when i started mgs2 i was like "wtf they got better graphics they didnt need this 'realistic' shit. They shouldve kept the psx graphics." and tbh i was right! that was the most polygons they needed to have

[gloomwitchwrites]

What if prompt for the 141: In the Rain

"It's pouring rain, why are you here?" Or something to this nature. I love a confession in the rain, stuck in the rain, kissing in the rain, all of it! Lol

I too love a good confession in the rain. That final scene in Pride & Prejudice is still peak confession in the rain trope for me. I think about it all the time. I think about it on repeat. I want it tattooed on my eyelids. When I think "in the rain," I think of that scene.

So, these aren't smutty by any means but one (maybe two) have some spice to them. They are full of love and longing. There are emotions, angst, and lots of kissing. It's our soaked to the bone 141 boys confessing their hearts in the pouring rain.

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Reader

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): swearing, brief mention of alcohol, suggestive themes, grief/mourning, love confessions, kissing, emotional hurt/comfort, feelings, intimacy, non-descriptive sex

Word Count: 3k

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

There are few things that John Price indulges in.

Cigars. Whiskey. The thought of you as his woman.

That last one plagues him. It burrows in. Makes a home every night to flood his dreams with images of you. John awakens each morning with you on his mind—and then you linger the rest of the day, crawling forward to say hello when he least expects it.

John sits on a barstool in a dive bar, contemplating life in the bottom of his whiskey glass. It’s the middle of fucking nowhere, but that’s the point. This isn’t a celebration or a job well done. This is a “thank fuck it’s over” drink.

The dive bar is dark and smoky. A jukebox in the corner endlessly rotates between eighties rock and country music. Next to the jukebox is a pool table where a group of three play. Otherwise, the place is entirely empty.

John knocks back the rest of his whiskey, signaling the bartender for a refill. He’s only half-listening to the conversations around him.

Laswell, MacTavish, Garrick, and Riley are all here. Simon is silent, staring off into space as the other three have an animated conversation. You’re here too, sandwiched between MacTavish and Riley. You’re not speaking, but you are listening, nodding your head at all the right moments.

But you look tired. Like you’re about ready to pack it up and call it a night. It’s deserved. This mission sucked. It was brutal. Tough. A complete shit-eating stink of a job. You aren’t part of the team. Not really. Laswell dragged you in last second, and John is happy that she did. Otherwise, he’d never have met you.

And that would be a tragedy.

John only has eyes for you. It is a sweet tooth that cannot be satiated. He’s been a bit reserved in how he’s approached you, but you always have a soft smile for him or a cheeky remark. It’s devolved into flirting at times, and at points so blatant that everyone else chimes in.

“I think I’m gonna head out,” you yawn, pushing your empty glass to the edge of the bar. The bartender walks by and snags it, whisking it away to be deposited into the sink.

This is it. You’re about to walk away. John will likely never see you again unless Laswell decides to call on you. This might very well be his only chance.

You slip off your barstool, and John abruptly stands, his leg smacking into Laswell’s stool. Everyone—including Simon—turns in John’s direction.

He coughs. Clears his throat. “I’ll walk you to your car,” he says quickly.

MacTavish smirks and elbows Gas in the arm. The two men exchange a knowing glance before they both raise their eyebrows at John. MacTavish even shakes his shoulders a bit. John shoots them a cold look over your shoulder. They stifle their laughter behind their glasses.

You don’t notice at all. Your focus is on John, and that’s exactly how he wants it.

The entrance of the dive consists of one interior door, a small entryway, and an exterior door. As the two of you enter the small entryway, a crack of thunder erupts overhead. You pause, staring out the small window on the exterior door. It’s not pouring, but the rain is steady. Getting caught it in for any period of time will likely result in soaked clothes.

You turn slightly in his direction, and John is suddenly aware of how cramped the space is.

“You don’t need to walk me to my car,” you say softly, gesturing toward the downpour. “Not with the rain.”

John shrugs. “I want to.”

It’s true. He does. But there is an ulterior motive here. This is his one chance to have a final goodbye or a new start.

You smile softly, gaze flicking down to the floor before returning to his face. John’s cheeks heat—and it’s ridiculous. He’s a grown fucking man. He doesn’t get flustered. But this space is small. It is far too cramped. John is nearly on top of you.

Beneath those long eyelashes are your gentle eyes. It’s a look you only give him. Your lips part slightly. They’re gorgeous. You’re gorgeous. He wants nothing more than to lean down and close the distance.

“Okay,” you reply with a teasing laugh, opening the door.

The earthy scent of rain hits him first and then the pattering of the falling rain comes next. You slip out the door and stand close to the building under the small awning, attempting to stay out of the rain. John follows behind, coming up next to you.

Your smile is sweet as you gaze up into the dark sky. But then you turn to him, and that smile morphs into something devious.

“Should we race to the car?” you ask, as if conspiring.

John grins. “Think you can beat me?”

You laugh. “An old man like you? Absolutely.”

John can’t help but smile back, nudging you with his elbow. “Not that old.”

“What do I get if I win?” you ask, turning to look at him.

“A kiss,” says John automatically. It rolls right off his tongue. There is no way for him to take it back. And he doesn’t want to. “What do I get if I win?”

You wait a beat. And then answer.

“A kiss,” you reply slowly.

A kiss.

John blinks, his mind momentarily stuttering out. Your grin widens, and then you’re off, sprinting into the rain and to the car.

John nearly trips as he jogs after you. The gravel is slick and the rain splatters against his jacket. He isn’t all that interested in racing. John is only watching you, and the way your ass bounces as you make for the car. Your curves are lovely. He imagines opening the rear door and pushing you into the back seat, only to drag you into his lap to take whatever he wants.

You make it before he does, but John is right behind, nearly sliding to a stop in the wet gravel. You turn toward him, grinning. Pieces of hair stick to the sides of your face. John cannot help himself. He grabs the back of your neck and draws you in.

You don’t resist. You surrender.

John’s mouth crashes against yours and you open beautifully for him. There is no one kiss. There are many. Multitudes. It is endless. It is rain-laced. Whiskey-drenched. John might have the buzz of alcohol in his veins but you are quickly replacing it.

Your lips part and John slides his tongue inside. Your hands grab at him, fingers digging in. The two of you are pressed together, rain falling to drench clothing and skin.

With a low groan, John pushes you up against the car, intensifying his kisses. You eagerly greet him, accepting them all, returning them in equal measure. You are just as desperate. Just as hungry. Time is an illusion—and it isn’t until you shiver beneath him that John pulls away, aware that the two of you are now soaked through.

“Why are you still here?” you ask.

“You don’t know?” he replies, his hand cupping your face, thumb brushing against your bottom lip.

“It’s pouring, John.”

“I know.” You smile, and John goes in for one more kiss. “Do you not feel this? Am I the only one?”

You shake your head. “I feel it. Everywhere, John. I feel you everywhere.”

“Let’s go. Get out of here.”

“Right now?”

John’s grip tightens and you gasp, hips pressing against his.

“Right now.”

Simon "Ghost" Riley

The rain is light but steady. It falls from the cloudy sky to patter against your umbrella.

The graveyard is empty, and yet you knew Simon would be here. He always is on the anniversary of Johnny’s death. Like clockwork. It’s routine for him. A ritual.

Simon’s back is to you, his head bent as he stands in front of Johnny’s grave. There is no body there. It’s ornamental. Something for family and friends. There are fresh flowers next to the headstone.

You have no idea how long Simon has been out here. Simon has no umbrella with him, and the hood of his jacket is off. He’ll catch a chill like this, which is why you came. Seeing him like this is always difficult, and since Johnny’s passing, Simon has grown more attached.

He is always checking in on you—always near. You’d call it protectiveness but it feels more like obligation. A duty. Most days, Simon appears to be on the cusp of telling you something, revealing a secret that he’s itching to confess. You don’t know what it might be. Couldn’t take a guess. But you have thought about it. You have imagined all sorts of possibilities.

The two of you are always finding the other. Always reconnecting. Always reaching out. If it’s not him, it’s you. Perhaps it’s Johnny’s death that has brought this on. Whatever it might be, Simon is closer to you than he’s ever been, and sometimes it frightens you.

It feels like more.

“I brought you an umbrella,” you say to Simon’s back.

He turns slightly, glancing over his shoulder. Simon’s gaze sweeps from the ground and then lands on you. His hair is wet and droplets of water speckle his face like freckles.

Simon fully turns toward you.

The rain picks up a bit, soaking Simon further. You rush to him, holding your umbrella over his head, cutting off the rain. The two of you stand under it in silence, simply staring at each other. Time stretches, and then Simon’s hand rises, wrapping around your own where you hold to the handle.

“Why are you here?” he asks.

You swallow, and gather your courage. “You shouldn’t grieve alone.”

Simon’s brow softens. “I’m supposed to be the one looking after you.”

“I never asked you to,” you reply.

“But Johnny did.”

You start, eyes widening slightly. “What do you mean?”

Simon licks his lips. A droplet of water drips from the tip of his nose. “I made a promise. To Johnny. I made a promise to him.”

“What promise?” you whisper as the rain picks up more. The rain strikes the top of the umbrella in loud patters that nearly drown out your voice.

Another droplet falls from Simon’s nose. He leans in slightly, and the movement is confusing. It’s too intimate, like he wants to close the distance.

“I promised that I would—” he abruptly cuts off, swallowing. Simon’s gaze darts from your eyes to your lips and then back again.

“What is it, Simon?”

He sighs. “Fuck it,” he growls, shredding any distance there might have been between your bodies.

Simon claims your lips, kissing you so completely that you’re momentarily stunned. You taste the rain. Mint. A slight hint of smoke. You return the kiss, not pushing him away or pulling back. You open for him, accepting it all, and Simon continues to take, his free arm wrapping around your waist to draw you closer.

Even though he’s drenched, Simon is incredibly warm. It’s unfair how he can be an inferno in this downpour.

The graveyard is forgotten. The rain is a distant. There is only Simon’s lips, and the groan he makes when you return each kiss in equal enthusiasm.

Simon goes in for a quick nip before drawing away. It leaves you breathless and wanton.

“Was that part of the promise?” you ask, only half-joking.

Simon shrugs. “In a way.” You arch an eyebrow and Simon smiles softly. “I told Johnny I’d make a move. And now I have.”

“Yes,” you agree, heat blooming in your cheeks and your core. “You have.”

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

There is no turning back.

You made a choice. Kyle made a choice.

This is how it is.

You don’t want to be at the airport. You don’t want to leave. This entire situation is shit. But Kyle seemed willing to let you go. He’s not here. He didn’t beg you to stay. He didn’t try to convince you that all he wants in life is you.

That’s all you need. To be wanted. To be loved.

After all of this—after everything, and Kyle isn’t here.

You’re not mad. Not really. You are both adults. You both have made a choice. Just because you don’t like something doesn’t mean you don’t understand. Because at the end of the day, you do. Truly.

Sighing, you haul your suitcase over the curb and on the sidewalk. The Uber that brought you here is already pulling away to go pick up someone else. The airport is packed on the inside, and the rain that falls from the sky in sheets. You have a coat, and the hood is up, but what you really need is an umbrella.

Already, you feel the water seeping into the unprotected places. Rain does that sometimes. Trickles in where it isn’t wanted.

You start to pull your suitcase behind you. A wheel catches in a small crack, and it nearly takes you down with it. Stumbling forward, you put a hand out to catch your fall. You expect your bare palm to land on concrete. To burn with pain.

But you don’t make it to the ground. You don’t touch it at all.

There are arms around you. They are strong. And somehow so damn familiar it’s frightening.

Then, you’re being lifted, guided back to your feet. Those strong arms ease you onto solid ground, and then you’re turning to thank the stranger that’s saved you from falling face first into the concrete.

But it is no stranger.

“Kyle,” you breathe, staring into the face of the man you’ve loved for years now.

Something breaks. Shatters.

“What are you doing here?” you ask.

Kyle hasn’t let you go. His arms are still around you. Your hands grasp his biceps, and his jacket is slick with rain. His hood is not up. And yours has fallen at some point. Already, the rain is soaking your hair. Strands of it stick to your face.

“Coming to right a wrong,” he says. Your lips part but Kyle shakes his head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t fight hard enough. I let you slip through the cracks.”

Kyle draws you in a bit closer. The people passing by and the cars are distant.

“I should have told you ‘I love you’ every day. I should have been present.”

“Kyle—”

Your next words are stolen. Kyle closes the distance, and then you’re wrapping your arms around the back of his neck, sinking into the kiss.

You can’t leave now.

You can’t.

John "Soap" MacTavish

The rain falls gently from the sky.

Johnny grins, staring up into it, opening his mouth. His tongue is out to capture the droplets. You laugh, and wrap your arms around his shoulders, going in for a quick kiss on his cheek.

As you draw back, one of Johnny’s hands shoots out, snagging your arm. You playfully yelp, and swat at him, thinking that Johnny will let you go. He’s flirty, and sweet, but there is nothing more to it.

At least, you didn’t think so.

But Johnny’s gaze is heated, and the way he holds you against him is far too intimate to be anything other than what it is.

“Johnny,” you laugh, trying to play it off, but he remains firm.

His smile faulters slightly but it’s not a frown. It’s a heated stare. His gaze is on your lips, and you can see the desire there. What would happen if you went for it? If you kissed him?

“What are we doing?” he asks. “Can’t I have you?”

Startled, everything leaves your head. “What?”

Johnny’s gaze flicks up, and those gorgeous eyes drown you—submerging you in his depths. “Why are we stepping around this? We want each other.”

You do want him, but you thought it was mostly one-sided.

“Is that what you want?” you ask, softly.

Johnny smirks, and then he’s lifting you up into the air, placing you on top of the low stone wall. “Should I use my words?” he asks, fingers sliding underneath your rain-drenched shirt. He is warm, and his touch heats your skin. “Or should I show you with my body?”

Johnny nips at your bottom lip as his hands ascend. One slides between your breasts just as his lips meet yours. Your core clenches, and then you’re grabbing for him, touching him as much as he’s touching you.

The two of you are in the Scottish countryside. There are no people around. Just the two of you, and rolling green hills.

Johnny slots himself between your legs, and you reach beneath his kilt, finding him hard and wanting. He hisses, and then groans when you stroke him.

Everything is warm. Everything is rough.

It doesn’t matter that it’s raining, or that it’s a bit cold. You allow Johnny to shove articles of clothing aside, to find the places where you’re needing him to be. His touch is a brand, and you love how it feels, pulsing through your loins like an overheated engine.

“Johnny,” you gasp into the rain, fingers threading through his hair as he goes to his knees to taste between your thighs.

There is only heavy breath. A twisting of pleasure.

When he finally brings your bodies together, there is nothing but him. Nothing but you. Just two people finding each other.

The rain is nothing.

It isn’t even cold anymore.

Johnny is all heat. And you are burning for him.

taglist:

@km-ffluv @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @miaraei @cherryofdeath

@enarien @saoirse06 @ferns-fics @unhinged-reader-36 @miss-mistinguett

@ravenpoe67 @tulipsun-flower @sageyxbabey @mudisgranapat @ninman82

@lulurubberduckie @leed-bbg @yawning-grave81 @azkza @nishim

@haven-1307 @voids-universe @itsberrydreemurstuff @spicyspicyliving @keiva1000

@littlemisscriesherselftosleep @statixx-x @umno-yeah @blackhawkfanatic @talooolaaloolla

@sadlonelybagel @kadeeesworld @iloveslasher @sammysinger04 @dakotakazansky

@suhmie @jaggersinclair @jackrabbitem @lxblm @beebeechaos

@no-oneelsebutnsu @kidd3ath @certainlygay @thewulf @lovely-ateez

@arrozyfrijoles23 @gingergirl06 @eternallyvenus @smileykiddie08 @vrb8im

[criticallyacclaimedstranger]

37 Minutes [pre-outbreak!Joel x f!reader]

Read on Ao3

Fandom: The Last of Us

Ship: Joel Miller x you/f!reader

Tags/warnings: Cunnilingus, multiple orgasms, (kind of) forced orgasm, squirting, PiV sex.

Summary: You wake up one morning needing Joel, and he comes as soon as you let him know that. And while his life may be busy, he takes the time to thoroughly satisfy you.

Words: 2,092

A/N: This is inspired by this post by @swiftispunk. It came across my dash around Easter and it's been living rent-free in my head since then. Finally had time to write it. Enjoy!

It’s just one of those mornings when you wake up with that itch that your own hand or your box of toys can’t do anything about.

Getting out of bed and pulling on a t-shirt, you grab your phone and go out to the kitchen to put the coffee on. You send Joel a text, short and to the point: Got time?

He calls you immediately. You smile as you press the green receiver.

”That was fast.”

”You read my mind,” he tells you in a muffled voice. ”I woke up thinking about you.”

”Then come over. And you could’ve texted me that.”

”Texting takes twice as long, I ain’t got time. See you in fifteen.”

You barely get to finish your coffee before you hear Joel’s truck on your driveway, and you’re not even by the front door when he knocks on it. As soon as you open the door, he’s through it, arms around your waist, lips on yours. He’s in a hurry, you can tell, but you love these hurried meetings, if only because he wants you so much. You love being wanted this much, this hard, this desperately.

He tastes of coffee, same as you, and a little sweat on his upper lip. It’s early, but the temperature is already in the mid-eighties. Your AC is keeping your home nice and cool, though.

You shove the door close and wrap your arms around Joel's neck, kissing him back and groaning when his hands slide down to your ass, fingers digging into the soft flesh as he pushes you up against him. He is already stiff, and you wonder if he’s been so during his entire drive here.

"Don't have long," he lets you know between the kisses. "Gotta get to a building site across town in an hour, and - "

"Then make it count," you cut him off, and Joel reacts immediately, grabbing the hem of your t-shirt, and pulling the garment off of you. He presses his lips on yours again, hands on your tits as he walks you backwards to the bedroom. The kiss breaks only for as long as it takes him to get rid of his own clothes before he pushes you down on the bed. He immediately kneels before you and pulls down your panties before leaning in to kiss your cunt. You sigh out the first little hint of pleasure, but that sigh turns into a moan as Joel wastes no time teasing you. His tongue, quick and agile, starts to work your clit.

“Joel…!” you keen, legs opening wide to give him better access between your thick thighs. He’s sloppy and loud, but not aimless in his endeavor. His hands travel up your thighs to your belly, then to your breasts, where he rolls your nipples between forefingers and thumbs. You buck against him, keening to encourage him to go on, take hold of his hands and push them against your tits to make him grab them. He hums against your clit, looking up and grinning at your enthusiasm. How he can smile and have his tongue do that to you at the same time is beyond you, but you do not dwell on it as Joel puts it into a higher gear. Tongue on your clit, he pushes you quickly towards your peak, and when the pleasure turns more intense, you start to grind against him, your fingers plaiting with his and holding on, head thrown back to your Yes, yes, yesyesyes! until his tongue takes you over the edge. Your legs twitch as you try to catch your breath, but Joel doesn’t give you much of a respite.

“’nother one, beautiful,” he murmurs, licking his lips and letting go of your hands. “You taste so fuckin’ good.”

He attacks your clit again, licking, pushing, and prodding. Your hips buck up but are immediately locked down to the mattress by one of his strong arms placed across your lower abdomen. Your pussy clenches when you feel his fingertips at your opening. The second after, he slides two fingers inside you, his tongue and lips still on your clit as he finds that magical spot on your front wall. You shout out, back arching off the mattress, hands digging into the sheets as he massages that spot.

“God, Joel, oh God, don’t stop, fuckfuckfuck!”

He’s breathing heavily against your folds, but his tongue doesn’t stop, and his fingers are insisting on drawing a second orgasm from you. It’s almost too much, but you woke up wanting him, needing him, so you let your mind go blank and surrender, your moans turning more and more breathless the further you go. When you come, there is no sound, only a momentary stiffness in your entire body before you fall apart. You’re trembling all over, but Joel still goes on licking you. Your clit is on fire, your pussy is clenching, but goddamn him, he doesn’t stop.

“Joel,” you cry out, “stop, I can’t, I need a rest!”

“One more,” he tells you gasps, letting your clit be for just a moment. “I know you can, baby, be good for me now, gimme one more.”

You shake your head and press your thighs together, trying to crawl away, but Joel exhales sharply and grabs your waist.

“Just stay where you are, sweetheart, it’ll be over soon.”

He pries open your legs again, and this time he plants his mouth on your clit, and sucks. Your upper back shoots up from the bed but Joel already has his arms around your thighs, holding them open, locking his head firmly between them. The pleasure is almost painful in its intensity, shooting through your entire body, and you’re desperately trying to hold onto his head, the sheets, yourself, anything to relieve the force with which he’s sucking your overstimulated clit. But Joel doesn’t budge, and when you start to kick, he gets up onto the bed and lifts your lower body up into the air. Never once does his lips leave your clit, and you feel his scorching, labored breath on you, but nothing else suggests that he’s having any trouble lifting half of your heavy body off the bed. You kick, and he growls, finally letting go, but only to grab he backs of your thighs and bend you double. Your swollen pussy is obscenely on display, and you don’t get to ask him to wait before he slots his lips over your clit again.

You’re helplessly trapped, bent double and held in place by Joel’s strong builder’s hands, moaning and cursing until the pressure becomes too much. You hear a splash, Joel who hums and slurps, and you laugh without knowing why. Warm liquid is running down between your ass cheeks, and Joel latches back onto your clit, this time gulping the wet before getting a hold.

The third orgasm finally tears through you, and Joel releases you to tremble before him. You want to close your legs, but your hamstrings are so intensely stretched that you have to roll over onto your side to press your thighs together. Your clit is throbbing painfully, the skin around your pussy is grated raw by Joel’s facial hair, but he’s already nudging you to return onto your back.

“You did great, darlin’,” he praises you thickly, his tongue stiff after its service. “Just lemme grab a rubber, and I’ll fuck you good, okay?”

You whimper in return and blink your eyes open. Joel’s face, blurry at the edges, is somewhere above you, smiling at you before disappearing out of sight. You can dimly see the ceiling fan rotations, but truth is you can barely see at all, so you rub at your eyes before drawing your fingers through your hair.

Joel returns next to you, and you dimly hear the rustle of the condom wrapper. He takes his place between your legs, opening them gently.

“Be a good girl for me, or I’ll eat you out again,” he asks you sweetly, and you know you won’t survive that, so you let your knees fall to the sides, even if your hips are getting tense.

He slides into you slowly but surely, one inch after the other until he’s fully sheathed. Bending over to kiss you, his tongue slow now, he gives you a moment to adjust before he straightens his back, takes you by the waist, and starts to pump into you. It’s fast and shallow, and he gets breathless quickly, huffing out each quick breath before sucking in new air in time with his thrusts. You don’t even know if you’re breathing at all anymore, but you’re catching up with him now, and raise your hips slightly to meet his thrusts. He growls and comes down onto his forearms, getting in deeper. You embrace him, pull him down and into you, guide his head right next to yours where he hides his face in your neck as you pant your encouragement into his ear. You kiss, bite, and suck his neck, scratch your nails down his back, and slap his ass.

“Harder, Joel, harder, I need it harder!”

He snarls, his head snaps up from your neck as he gulps air into his lungs. His arms curl around your head as he picks up the pace. His cock is so deep, so hard, filling your pussy to the brink of annihilation it seems, and he doesn’t stop, he just goes on and on fucking you, his body slick with sweat that rubs off on you, his breaths growing increasingly audible for each thrust.

“Fuck!” he finally grunts before pulling out. “Roll over, baby.”

You obey, getting on all fours, and are immediately shoved down onto your chest as he slams into you. Hands on your hips, he goes hard and fast, groaning now as he breaths, one hand scrambling for a grip on your lower back without finding. His cock keeps assaulting your pussy, you are in heaven, and you still keep asking him to go harder. He pushes you down, hands pressing into your lower back as he goes on fucking you, reaching impossibly deeper each time, until you’re screaming and have to muffle yourself by pushing your face down into the sheets. Joel swears, his hips start to move erratically, and then he drives himself deep inside and stays there as he roars, pushing even deeper.

He slumps down next to you, panting like after a marathon. You turn your head to better breathe, but you can’t turn move your legs. Joel lies next to you, eyes closed, mouth open as he draws shallow breath after shallow breath, skin glistening with sweat. You want to say something but have to lick your lips several times before you can form words.

“Fuck, but you’re good.”

He blinks, and slowly turns his head towards you.

“What?”

“You’re so fucking good at this.”

“Am I?”

His cluelessness is adorable.

“Yes, you are, Joel!”

“I don’t know…” He makes a move that resembles a shrug. “I just enjoy you.”

Like this is just any ordinary fuck. You smile widely, a new kind of warmth spreading inside you. Joel just is that kind of humble person.

He now draws a deep breath, sighs it out, and then sits up. He leans over you to kiss your back, shoulder, neck, and finally mouth.

“I gotta go.”

“Sure.”

He leaves the bed, throwing a glance at the bedside clock radio.

“37 minutes. That’s a new record.”

“Jesus Christ.”

You hear the rustle of clothes and manage to roll over onto your back. Everything hurts so good, and you’re grateful you don’t have work today.

Joel sighs. “You look so fucking pretty, baby.”

You hum, smiling at him. As he picks up his t-shirt, you remember something. 

”Put it on the right way.”

“Huh?”

“You had your t-shirt on backwards and inside out when you got here,” you giggle. “Make sure it’s the right way now.”

“But then Tommy will notice, and he’ll know where I’ve been,” Joel points out pragmatically, still putting the t-shirt on the right way. It immediately gets dark spots in the front.

“I think he’ll know either way,” you yawn. Joel returns to bed for one last kiss.

“Fuck, I wanna stay.”

“I want that too.” You cup his cheek to keep his lips on yours for a moment longer.

“Mmm…” he hums into your mouth. “See you this weekend?”

“Absolutely.”

He presses one last kiss on your mouth before leaving you to your boneless rest.

[semisolidmind]

Okay,okay how about this- you did one of a genderbend sorts of the Bloody Mary right? What about a kind of genderbend of Carrie? Maybe a ghoul whom spirit won’t rest until it gets its prom queen? (And if you don’t want to, then please ignore this and enjoy the rest of your day my dear:v)

here’s your prom king and (reluctant) queen

was thinking bout the idea, and i kinda imagined that our king here is from the fifties. a victim of a high school prank gone wrong; he was voted king of his senior prom, and suffered a horrible death when the blood bucket that was dumped on him fell and hit him in the head (like tommy from the og carrie movie). he became a poltergeist and now haunts the school gym where he died, causing trouble at every school dance since.

the gal he’s got his sights set on (in present day eighties) is an outcast like he was, and he uses his ghost powers to help her out; primarily by scaring off her bullies. our gal here has to thwart his attempts to kill off the popular kids on her behalf (though she isn’t entirely successful). the whole thing reaches a boiling point with the arrival of senior prom, where the undead kings’ power is at its peak.

[vxnuslogy]

— unfinished business.

starring: stellaron hunter!sunday x gn!reader + the other stellaron hunters.

premise: on his first mission with the stellaron hunters, sunday hesitates, unable to push through. frustrated, you step in, taking on the task. when danger strikes, Sunday becomes your unexpected savior. the mission succeeds, but sunday is left wondering about your unfinished business in the capital of passion and your mysterious past before you joined the team.

— warnings: slight angst + arguments.

— author's note: another sunday fic to the collection yippie. pic credits to @helen_zzhao. | ~3.4k words.

the capital of passion always looked magnificent at night. here you were with your fellow hunters and your boss - in his cat form - standing above the capital at its highest peak. flashing lights of neon blues, pinks, and yellows obscured the night sky you preferred to look at when the moon was present. you were sitting on one of the ventilations of the building you were all standing on, silver wolf leaning on the railing playing video games, blade in some corner with his sword close to his chest and eyes strained away from the bright lights, and sunday stood awkwardly standing next to you with elio perched in your lap.

“you already know what to do right, mister?” silver wolf suddenly looks up from her game and drops a silver disc right in front of her. a hologram of the city below you showed up and two glowing yellow dots were running away from the blue dots who you assumed were the public security regulation. “we split up and corner the messengers, interrogate said messengers for more information about the supposed discontinued project, and leave before security catches us. ”

silver wolf looked at sunday with a different glint in her eyes. “you can do a simple task like this right?” 

the man beside you crossed his arms together over his chest and gripped them tightly. brows knitting together in contemplation as his mouth opened just to close again. continuous beeping noises that sounded like alarms from the disc made you suddenly stand up. “they’re changing their course. i thought they mostly traveled in the skies? why are they suddenly using the alleyways?”

“we don’t have time.” blade interrupted with a pointed look to sunday. “can you or can you not do it? the clock is ticking.”

you look at sunday worriedly who has still yet to say another word. “i–”

“mister make up your mind, we’re going to lose them!” silver wolf shouted in worry. taking out her phone and quickly punching a few buttons. red rectangles appeared on a holographic map of the city, closing any passages the messenger could take to escape. “we need to go, like right now!”

you looked towards blade who was already getting ready to jump off the rooftop to chase the messengers. his intense gaze never once left sunday’s figure who continued to shrink more into the shadow. 

“i can’t… i’m sorry.” sunday murmured, hand tightening their hold on his arms. you try not to show how your  eyes widened in disbelief but with the way he avoided looking into your eyes, you couldn’t help the bubbling of frustration that started to fester in your chest.

silver wolf was always calm under pressure so it was strange to see her so shaken. “are you kidding me?!” she stomped towards sunday and pointed an accusing finger to sunday. tapping at his chest multiple times to emphasize her frustration. “you said you were ready! we did not just waste weeks worth of our time to train you for this mission only for you to say that you can’t do it?!”

“silvy come on, give him a break.” you tried to but in, keeping your own frustration hidden behind an understanding smile. “this is his first mission; a complete one-eighty of what he’s used to.”

“you’re being too soft on him, [name]!” a timer of 15 minutes suddenly appeared on the map. “we’re here on a mission. we could get caught!”

“silver wolf is right, [name].” you look at the black cat that sat by sunday’s legs. their head turned to look at sunday but the man only looked away in shame, wings covering his face. “you’ve agreed to become a hunter, mr. sunday. and you’ve also agreed to participate in this mission. need i remind you of the consequences when you don’t follow the script?”

elio never truly intimidated you, not when you first joined, on your first mission, or just in general. but with the way he was sizing up sunday with such judgement made the hairs on your arms and neck raise in realization. elio might have been kind to you, but they weren’t so much with others.

you look back to the map and blade, and then the timer that continues to tick. “i’ll go.”

“what?!” silver wolf’s attention was now on you. and so was everyone else's. “no one knows you’re a stellaron hunter! if anyone were to catch a glimpse of you all your hard work will be for nothing!”

“do you really want to risk that, [name]? ” blade asked, pushing you back to where sunday and elio stood. you felt their gaze on you as you stepped forward and pushed past blade. with a single tap on your earpiece a visor appeared in front of your eyes and showed you the map of the city. the same glowing yellow dots.

“[name].” elio warns.

“i’ll take the one in the west, the rest of you take the north.” you heard a collective shout of your name but you already jumped off. 

the city was more jam-packed than you had imagined. though you were in the alleyways of the capital, bags of trash, old mechanical parts, and even trashed prosthetics laid on the ground making it hard to navigate through the already dimmed path.

you kept a close eye on the yellow dot just a few feet in front of you. furrowing your brows in confusion when it suddenly turned around and started charging in your directions. too focused on the map showing on your visor, you fail to notice the glinting piece of metal that was thrown straight at your head. 

something warm encapsulated your body. you suddenly felt an arm wrap around your waist and your head as the figure in a cloak jumped over your body. a grunt left your savior’s lips making you turn around.

“sunday?!” he only gave you a flustered smile as you sat on his lap. 

“hello…” he replied as you quickly stood up and helped him up. checking over your visor just to see that the yellow dot had taken a different route that you predicted. a curse left your lips as you kicked the trash bags in front of you.

“bladie they're coming your way. be careful, they're armed.” you heard a soft roger from the other end as your visor shut off. you look back to sunday who was dusting off his clothes. your brows knit together in confusion. “what are you doing here?”

he looked shocked by your question but quickly masked it. “i’m here to finish my mission.”

“i thought you said you couldn’t do it?” you wonder what kind of expression you were making to suddenly make the ever so composed sunday squirm.

“blade is right.” he takes a step forward and pushes your hair out of your eyes. wincing when his gloved finger suddenly grazed over the scratch you didn’t even know you had. “you’re too soft on me, [name].”

you raise a brow at him. “would you prefer i be a bit sterner then?”

sunday must have taken your words lightly because he only shook his head in amusement with a small smile on his lips. normally you would smile with him but this time a deep frown tugged at your lips. “i’m being serious, sunday.” 

he ceased his silent laughter and looked at your eyes. “because i will be more strict with you if you’re going to continue acting like this in future missions.”

his shoulders tensed when you turned around, back facing him as you started to walk away back to your meeting point. no doubt silver wolf and blade must have caught one of the messengers and brought them back to the rooftop. 

“let’s go back to our meeting point.” you didn’t wait for his reply when you started scaling up the walls of the alleys. clicking your tongue in disgust when you felt the grime stick to your fingers. 

“are you mad?” 

“excuse me?”

the both of you stopped. just a few feet away from you, you catch a glimpse of elio playing with the holograms. signaling you both to return to continue the interrogation. the night is going to be over soon and you’ve spent enough time running around trying to catch a wild goose.

“of course i’m mad!” you looked at him in disbelief as your voice raised in volume. “sunday, we're in a capital that's being run by a government body who doesn't care about privacy. the fact that we haven't been caught yet is a miracle!” you take a deep inhale and pinch the bridge of your nose. “you said you were ready. that you can finally start taking missions. elio prepared you a script and we helped you train for weeks. so i’m sorry if i’m mad that most of our efforts are going down the drain.”

sunday looked away. he almost looked bashful with one arm brushing up the other. “i apologize. i truly thought i was ready. but with the way you’re treating these people, i couldn’t help but think you’ll–”

“kill them?” he winced at your blunt reply. you continued making your way back to the rooftop, not bothering to slow down your pace as sunday followed you from a good distance. “we’re going to interrogate them. this is your first mission, we aren’t going to make you dirty your hands this early.”

sunday stood incredibly still. as if he's only realizing now what he's really gotten himself into. “so you do plan on making me a murderer.”

you scoffed as you pushed back your hair. taking a deep breath, you steadied your voice. “sunday, we’re wanted criminals.” your eyes narrowing down to glare as sunday tried to challenge you. “why do you think everyone has a bounty in the millions? of course we’ve murdered people. that’s our job.”

“this isn’t right.” he argued. 

“well tough shit.” his eyes went wide, mouth opening slightly but closed just as fast. you weren’t one to curse or even raise your voice but tonight you were losing your cool. “sunday, you agreed to join us. of course you’ll have to get your hands dirty later on. you should be grateful elio gave you such an easy mission that doesn’t require that much force.”

“then what about you?” sunday knew he was pushing his limits, but he still continued. “if you’re all criminals then why have i not seen even a single wanted poster of you?”

sunday quickly regretted asking that when a wave of sadness washed over you. lips pressed together into a thin line as your hands curl into fists, knuckles turning white and slightly shaking. the two of you would’ve stood in silence forever if it weren’t for elio playing with the hologram. you quickly teared your gaze away from him and started to walk away in silence.

“we’re trying to do what’s best for you, sunday.” you say softly. “the consequences of the script getting derailed are catastrophic. trust me,” there was a certain edge to your voice when you turned to look at him. the bright lights of the capital casting a faint glow over your figure making the air sunday tried to inhale get lodged in his throat. “i know what kind of cataclysm might fall if you go off script.”

you reached the meeting point roughly 5 minutes later. elio was licking at his paw and meowed when they saw your figure approaching. squatting down to pet their head, you allow them to rub at your legs before clawing at sunday’s pants and climbing to his shoulders. the halovian let out a sound between a squeak and a groan, normally this would rip out a giggle out of you but your eyes remained focused on the man sitting by the ventilation with his arms tied behind his back. the man cracked one eye open and when his gaze fell over you he started scooting backwards.

“I-its… you…” your brows furrow together as sunday came to stand beside you, the same expression on his face.

“do you know him?”

you shake your head. “no, i don’t.”

taking a step forward, the man cowered and shook like a leaf, leaving you and sunday confused. “how are you alive?!” you were about to question him when he quickly followed it up with something you believed you wouldn’t ever hear again. “you’re that doctor from the train! you were supposed to be dead, i saw the explosion and you were caught in it!”

a lodge appeared in your throat. no sound left your lips when you squatted down to the man’s height to question. suddenly, sunday’s gold eyes felt too heavy and questioning even though you couldn’t see them. you curl your hand into a fist and let out a shaky sigh. closing your eyes to calm the drumming in your ears and heart. this was not the time to look back on the accident that happened amber eras ago.

“oh triple-faced soul,” you hear sunday approach from behind. “please sear his tongue and palms with a hot iron,” the air suddenly turned warm as a gloved hand wrapped around your arm pulling you up and tugging you to his side.“so that he will not be able to fabricate lies and make false vows.”

elio jumped into your arms, tapping a paw at your chin making you look up at sunday with worried eyes. “this will be faster.” he said, waiting for you to ask the question you had prepared beforehand.

taking a deep breath, you take out your phone and give it to sunday. he nodded at you, a hand came to the small of your back to steady you. your mind swam with questions on how this man knew about the explosion, you were very sure that no one was there to see it. “come to my office after the mission.” elio spoke softly, breaking you out of your nightmares.

“question: what do you know of the windborne project?” sunday questions, his golden stare narrowed dangerously at the man’s figure.

“it’s a discontinued project,” the man gulped before continuing. “there were too many errors and too few researchers. the blueprints were leaked by an old messenger and not long after, the others were captured by the public security regulation.”

“do you know who leaked the blueprint? what about the original creator?”

“we don’t know! everyone assumed that a rat had gotten in through some means and leaked it.”

“do you possess the blueprint of the windborne project?”

the man hesitated. he started taking sharp inhales and let out shaky exhales. hands started shaking in his restraints as sunday took a step forward and kneeled to the man’s level. golden eyes not once faltering.

“i will ask you again, do you possess the blueprint of the windborne project?”

“y-yes!” the man cried out. “it’s in my bag, you can have it, so please, spare me..” 

you let go of elio gently and made your way to the stray bag in one of the corners. zipping it open you pull out a gray cylinder and wouldn’t you know, the words “windborne” were written in white marker. taking off the lid and sliding out the paper, you open it and let out a hum.

“continue with the interrogation,” you tell sunday, taking out a pen from your pocket and started writing on the blueprint. circling and crossing out words like the materials needed, the measurements and instructions on how its supposed to be used.

“where can we find the holo-wings?” you felt sunday’s eyes flicker over to you but you pay it no mind.

“the tech labs in arcadia research department. they’ve been manufacturing them in secret and selling them in the underground markets.”

you hum and write more stuff down. “ask him about the nano-actuators.”

“and what about the nano-actuators? where can we get them?”

“cybernetic shops. their found all across the capital.”

“cybernetic shops…” you mutter after circling another portion of the words on the blueprint. after a few more notes, you roll up the blueprint and put it back in its cylinder. “you can let him go now, we’re done here.”

sunday stood up and dusted his pants, letting go of the man from his trance. a shiver went up your spine when he looked at you, the remnants of the order’s power swimming in them before they all vanished when he blinked. you follow his gaze towards the cylinder in your hand but made no move to question it.

“i told you everything i know, so please let me go…!” the man cried out with tears in his eyes.

“not yet,” you reply with a monotone voice. “my other friends still want something from you.”

his eyes widened and continued to thrash in his restraints. you only shake your head and pull out your phone to text silver wolf and blade for any updates. “are you really a nameless?” the man beside asked with so much gentleness. your initial frustration washed away completely you began to wonder if he was using his powers on you. but when you looked at his eyes, you saw nothing but sincere concern.

“was, sunday.” you look away from him and look over to the horizon, the sun is rising. 

“is it connected to the explosion the man said?” he asks, voice laced with concern and curiosity.

you press your lips together, looking down at the cylinder container in your hands. “it’s all in the past now. irrelevant pieces of information.” elio meows at you both and starts walking to where the stairs are. “this is a story better left unfinished, sunday. so please don’t try to see how it ends.”

the trip back home was quiet and awkward. you sat in the passenger seat this time while silver wolf and sunday sat in the back. every so often, sunday’s eyes would flick over to you. silently looking out the window, the cylinder in your lap as you drummed a beat on it to try and distract yourself from the fatigue of last night’s mission.

an elbow to his side made him wince slightly. he turned to glare at the girl beside him who showed her phone. sunday squinted his eyes in confusion when he read the message silver wolf sent to him.

favorite?

“we’re here.” blade’s voice cut through the quiet and still atmosphere. both sunday and silver wolf looked up from their phones just in time to see you leave the car with elio in tow. 

when everyone entered the building, you put the cylinder on one of the couches and greet firefly and kafka in the kitchen. briefly excusing yourself from the two and following elio down a corridor he’s never gone through before. 

sunday’s eyes never once left your figure even after you disappeared into a room with destiny’s slave. mind swimming with more questions about your past and yourself in general. he pondered on what silver wolf meant when you were elio’s favorite. not to mention the sudden info dump on you being an old nameless from the astral express. 

who exactly are you, [name]?

© vxnuslogy 2024. please do not copy, repost, or translate any of my works.

[thatlittlered]

florida!!! | aaron hotchner

warning(s): this will be a slow burn, but have faith

GIF by @katebeckets

author's note: A Hotch fic in 2024? It's more likely than you think. Part two coming tomorrow. Find me @MadeofLilies in Ao3!

-.-.-

It’s a two-hour flight from Quantico to Tampa, but the team’s already been up the day before for this case. There’s very little left in all of you to give right now so you’re mostly going through the files again or, more likely, staring blankly at the papers – sleeping with your eyes open. Rossi succumbs to the sweet call of rest first and he will most certainly be mocked for it tomorrow.

Reid is sat behind you and you can feel his frequent jolts. He’s coming in and out of sleep, always fighting it. Hotch is across from you and as always, an unwavering force. He is reading files and keeping notes without a single complaint. Not a single sign of discomfort or an urge to slow down.

You’d think he was a statue, but his humanity prevails through the peaks of facial hair just now growing in, the skin that sinks under his eyes and the softness of his breathing.

You’re no longer too aware of your surroundings, but from the corner of your eye, you see him squirm uncomfortably and glance at you before returning to his notes.

Then-

“You smell very good.”

“Oh, uh, it’s my body lotion, I think. Violet.”

He nods as if taking in the information that he can’t really use.

What exactly was the purpose of that statement? The thought of a scent emitting from the warmth of your body does something to him.

“I’m sorry, that was probably a weird thing to say.”

“Don’t worry, it wasn’t.” He nods again and silence ensues. “Maybe a little? I also feel weird complimenting people on their perfumes, it makes me feel like Buffalo Bill. It rubs the lotion on its skin.”

He laughs and his head drops downward. Full-hearted laughs from Hotch are a rare phenomenon and eliciting one is always a thrilling accomplishment.

“It’s a nice scent, let’s just leave it at that.”

“Let’s.”

-.-.-

Six hours of sleep in the hotel go by in a moment and do little to alleviate the headache that’s been building up. Tylenol it is.

Emily offers you a sympathetic smile when you meet her at the car and pats your back lovingly. You know she is just as tired.

“One of these days they’re going to stop working for me and then I’m really screwed.”

“You’re like a pretty house plant. You thrive only under very specific conditions.”

“That’s right. I only need a full eight hours of sleep, seventy-five-to-eighty-degree weather and a full stomach to not feel sick, I’m honestly very low maintenance.”

She laughs and hands you a coffee.

“I know, honey. I vow to maintain you to the best of my abilities.”

Hotch is listening from inside the car and he’s almost jealous at the comfortable banter. Chat always feels forced to him in one way or another, especially with you. It’s complicated.

You seat behind him and he looks at you through the rear mirror.

“Good morning, Hotch.”

Never boss. Never Agent. You called him Aaron once a very long time ago and he’s clung to it. He can hear it now if he tries.

He makes an effort to be warm to you and there’s a hint of a polite smile.

“Good morning.”

Emily and Spencer join you and after a quick check-in with the rest of the team in the other car, you’re ready to go.

Tampa is hot. And swampy. It was comfortable enough in the beginning when the sun was only coming out but you can’t escape its angry glare anywhere now. Your clothes are starting to cling to you and the Tylenol hasn’t worked.

Aaron notices your discomfort when you sneak away from the rest of the team and head back to the car for some shade. It’s been a long couple of hours driving around and looking at the perp’s dump sites.

“Are you okay?”

You look up and see him lean against the open car door. Brows furrowed, eyes on you. You’re always a little uncomfortable under his gaze.

“Yeah, I’m fine, I just needed a break.”

He’s not too convinced. “Is it the headache?”

“Yeah… I left my sunglasses back at the hotel and that doesn’t help much either.” You take a sip of water just in case it helps. “Who even has the energy to go around and murder people in Florida? I can barely move my arms up and down without wanting to die.”

He laughs again. You’re really getting good at this.

“That’s some fine profiling there, agent. It makes sense to assume the perp is a local.”

You squint your eyes to look at him through all the glaring sunlight and he’s smirking.

“Was that a joke from THE Agent Hotchner? Be still my beating heart.”

You smile at each other for just a second before the sun once again becomes unbearable. Your eyes close on instinct.

“Just give me a second and I’ll be back on my feet.”

“Of course, take your time.”

Next thing you know, you feel a gentle touch at the sides of your face, something being placed on the bridge of your nose. When you open your eyes again, Hotch is covered by a thin veil of black that gives you immense relief.

“Oh, Hotch, it’s not necessary.”

“It’s alright, you need them more. Keep them.”

“Thank you so much.”

He nods, now back to his regular self and walks away when he sees you’re looking better.

You follow close behind him and watch as he joins the group to comment on something Spencer said. Emily leans discreetly toward you, “Are those Hotch’s sunglasses?”

-.-.-

The air-conditioned hotel room is a lovely change of scenery by the end of it all. This time you can really take it all in, you’re not in a rush to go anywhere. A hot shower, clean linen and the scent of pine room spray in the air.

Pine might be an odd choice for a Floridian beach resort, but alright.

You’re drying your hair when someone knocks on your door, which surprises you. The usual routine for everyone in the team is a shower to wash out the filth that you witness and passing out in the queen-sized beds. You assumed they were doing the latter.

“Hi.”

Aaron Hotchner in a t-shirt is definitely something. Seeing him like this, you almost feel like you’re violating him even though he’s the one knocking on your hotel door at half past two in the morning.

“Hi, is there something wrong?”

His brows furrow. He looks anxious.

“Did I wake you up?”

“No, I just got out of the shower, was about to dry my hair and go to bed.” His gaze falls on the water stains forming on your shirt, your hair loose. It looks so soft. “Did you need something?”

“Uh, sort of. The Wi-Fi in my room isn’t working and I have to send in my report before we fly back tomorrow. I tried the reception but they can’t really do anything about it right now.”

“Oh! Of course, you can work from here if you want.”

“Are you sure it wouldn’t be a bother-”

“Hotch, get in here, of course it wouldn’t be a bother. You’re quite literally the most discreet the person in the world.”

He smiles at the praise. It’s a boyish sort of joy to know that you think so highly of him.

“Let me just grab my laptop.”

You watch as he briefly disappears in his room right across from yours and reappears with his laptop and a case file in hand. He stands awkwardly before you, waiting for you to invite him in again and you laugh at his insane need to always be so careful with his movements.

You step back and he understands, joining you inside the room.

“Give me a second to clear my things off the bed and you can get to work, okay?”

“I can just take the chair, it’s no big deal.”

“That’s actually even harder for me right now because all my clothes are on that chair. You can absolutely sit on the bed as long it’s not with outside clothes, because yuck.”

You both laugh and you think it’s because of your hyperbole but he’s laughing at the way your nose scrunches when you say it.

“I never wear my outside clothes to bed.”

“Of course you don’t.”

You make space for him in your bed that smells like laundry softener and you from the night before. It’s your body lotion. Violet.

He can’t help but think it’s a nice place to be.

“I’m just going to blow-dry my hair in the bathroom, hopefully that won’t make too much noise at this hour. Let me know if you need anything else.”

“Sure.”

You don’t think you’ve ever made this much eye contact with Hotch in a single day but tonight, he’s insistent on looking right in your eyes with every word he speaks. It’s odd, but not uncomfortable. You could certainly get used to it.

You only get a solid minute and a half of blow drying before you decide you can’t be certain that the walls prevent the sound from reaching other rooms. It’s a cruel thing to do at this hour, even though the only other person you know on this floor is your boss that’s currently sitting on your bed like a teenager doing homework.

“I’m done.”

He looks at you star-struck, something about the familiarity of this moment really getting to him. The two of you have never been like this before and he’s always felt a certain amount of regret over not being as close with you as the other members of the team have managed. That’s the curse of being a stone, he supposes. People will eventually treat you like one.

“I won’t take long; I just need to finish up the rest and send it.”

“Don’t worry, you can stay as much as you need.”

He glances at the bottle of melatonin on the nightstand.

“How come you’re not already dozing off?”

“I just wanted to relax a little before I did. Felt disgusting after today.”

He hums. Was it the heat? Was it the humidity? Was it the empty look inside the perp’s eyes when he was finally caught? Like there was no humanity there, nothing to see but cruelty. He won’t ask.

“Do you have trouble falling asleep?”

You also glance at the bottle, then at him. “Are you profiling me, Agent Hotchner?”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be inquisitive. I just thought you could fall asleep everywhere. Several long hours in the jet have proved so, at least.”

His attempt to lighten up the mood works and he’s thankful.

“I can, I just have trouble staying asleep once I do. Especially with all the changes in time zone; it really messes with me.”

He smiles at you so warmly. This is Aaron. Not Agent Hotchner, not even Hotch, just Aaron sitting on your hotel bed with his knee bumping into yours. “Like a pretty house plant.”

You smile back and try not to think too hard about the repercussions of him calling you pretty, even though he’s technically repeating another person’s words.

“Do you have trouble falling asleep?”

“I do sometimes… it can be tough.”

Aaron’s brown eyes are so soft under the dimmed lights.

“It really can be.”

The spell of eye contact breaks before it becomes too intense.

“Do you mind if I also sit here until you finish?”

His hand twitches at his side, begging to touch; to reassure you.

“Of course not. It’s your bed.”

“I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“You couldn’t.”

You watch some TV while he works away, often stealing glances at the way his hands move over the keyboard. They’re very nice to look at; all veins and rough skin. They suddenly stop and shut the laptop.

“I’m finished, so I can finally leave you to your rest. I’m really sorry for the intrusion.”

You sit up from your cozy spot, alarmed at the thought of his departure when you’re finally getting used to his presence here.

“I told you, there was no intrusion. I’m glad I was able to help.”

He smiles at you again, this time a little more reserved. It’s as if the bubble of intimacy has burst and now it’s all awkward again.

“I should leave so you can get some sleep.”

“Yeah.” You watch as he gets up and moves toward the door, “Although…”

The suggestion of something else following stops in him in his tracks.

“I don’t think I’m in the mood to sleep right now and I’d really just like some coffee.”

He moves again, turning to face you completely. Eye contact, again.

“I could actually go for some coffee. Breakfast doesn’t start being served for a few more hours though.”

You sigh, maybe it’s the sleep deprivation but it feels like neither of you wants to let go.

“Maybe we could head out? See if there’s any place open in the neighborhood?”

You watch as he glances at the door, then back at you. “Yeah. Yes, let’s do that.”

“Meet you in the hallway in five?”

“I’ll be there.”

-.-.-

The hotel is fairly close to the airport and you guess East Tampa is not the place to be for nightlife. The streets are empty save for the occasional passing car.

“Should we take the car?”

“We could do that, or…”

“Or?”

“We could explore the East Tampa wilderness by foot. I hear they recently got rid of the alligators.”

He laughs, “Will you ever tire of the Florida jokes?”

“Not ever, no.”

“Good, I like hearing them.”

East Tampa is more walkable than you expected.

“See, they even have tiny slivers of sidewalk! We might as well be in Paris.”

“Magical.” he hums, walking slightly behind you so you don’t bump into each other.

God forbid you cross that boundary while wandering around a foreign city with your coworker, alone, when it’s almost four am and you’re both wearing pajamas outside. God forbid.

You can feel him leading you through the streets despite being right behind you and neither of you really knowing where you’re heading. He guides you through his sturdy footsteps, the quiet breathing that finds and leaves your ear again with every step.

“We can try turning left here.”

You would trust him anywhere.

The moment you make the turn and make room for him beside you, a car practically zooms by. It makes you dizzy when he holds on to you immediately, pulling you toward him until you’re sure you’ve stepped all over his shoes. He looks so angry when you turn to him and for a moment, you think it might be at you.

“Going 50 in a 25? That guy’s going to get someone killed.”

“Yeah, I underestimated the traffic.”

“Are you okay?

“Sure, I am, it was just fast.”

“Take the sidewalk, I’ll walk on this side, alright?”

You don’t argue with him, there is no point.

“Thank you.”

At the end of the street, you can make out the joyous neon sign of a 7-Eleven.

“Ah! We’ve reached civilization!”

“Can you really call 7-Eleven that?”

“Barely.”

-.-.-

The coffee is so deliciously warm and even though the weather doesn’t call for it, it brings you comfort.

An employee is eyeing you suspiciously from the window while you seat on the pavement outside and you don’t know why. Your clothes are sleepwear, sure, but you’ve seen at least five people in the city strut around in nothing but jean shorts and flip-flops so is there really room for judgement here?

 Aaron discreetly scoots closer to you as if to be heard better but the street’s already incredibly quiet.

“This was a great idea, actually.”

You smile at him and keep sipping your coffee.

“We can go back to the hotel now if you want.”

“Are you tired?”

“No,” you see him tilt his head in doubt and you think the bags under your eyes might have reached your chin by now, “I mean, my body is, but my mind is right here with you.”

He smiles back at you in such a sweet way, it reaches his eyes.

“I don’t want to then.”

If you do, you have to go back to separate rooms and miss this opportunity for one perfect sunrise.

You move closer to him and he thinks you might tell him a secret, “Should we keep walking?”

“Walk toward where?”

Your shoulders relax.

“Do you have your map with you? We can walk until we reach the beach.”

His smile doesn’t falter a bit, “I think the nearest beach is like, an hour from here on foot.”

“That’s a lot. We can walk until we don’t feel like walking anymore then.”

“Another good idea.”

“I know you live in constant admiration of me but all this praise might just get to my head.”

He gets up first and puts out his hand for you to grab, “Oh, has it not already?”

When you take him up on his offer, his grasp is incredibly strong, yet tender. He pulls you up like it’s nothing but he’s careful not to hurt you in the process.

He doesn’t let go of your hand, drinks in the casual banter like the two of you might never speak again.

Your other hand is holding your coffee and you instinctively touch your forehead to his shoulder in protest for just a second, “I am a very down-to-earth person.”

The bare skin under his sleeve grows warm where you touched it.

“The most.”

He, still, doesn’t let go of your hand.

“How cruel of you to mock me when I’m dressed like this and haven’t slept.”

He laughs.

“I’m sure you mock me all the time with the team when I’m not listening.”

His tone hasn’t changed to indicate if he’s serious or not, but you feel very uncomfortable at the thought of him assuming that you and the squad might speak ill of him.

“I would never mock you, Hotch. I know we all poke fun at each other, but I admire you. Deeply.”

“I admire you too. Deeply.”

You walk side by side and your hand rests loosely clasped in his. He tells himself it’s to keep you safe and you let him guide you everywhere; anywhere. Nothing but trust there.

After a while, he stops and looks at you.

“I do really want to go to the beach.”

You laugh because the notion of Aaron Hotchner really wanting to do something seems so alien.

So far, you’ve assumed he’s just going along for the ride.

“I guess we could look for a cab?”

-.-.-

It’s almost dawn and there is no one here you can see. Just soft sand that will most definitely get everywhere inside your clothes and the sound of waves crashing softly when they reach the shore.

You’re looking at them, he’s looking at you.

The two of you sit closer now than ever before.

“It’s going to officially be morning soon.”

He instinctively turns to his wrist but his watch is back at the hotel discarded somewhere, so you reach for your phone and show him the time. It almost ruins the illusion of no time existing around you, but he won’t allow it. He will bend it to his will as he does with all else, just to stay here.

“We don’t have to be back until nine.”

The realization that he also doesn’t wish to leave makes you smile. That’s barely enough time to get properly dressed when you’re back at the hotel and then drive to the airport. It’s so unlike him.

‘I haven’t been at the beach in so long.”

You can picture him now, turning bright red under the sun and playing around with Jack.

“Do you not go with Jack?”

His lips pull downward and you immediately regret asking.

“We haven’t taken a vacation in so long.”

“I’m really sorry, I didn’t want to-”

“Don’t worry, you didn’t say anything wrong. We probably should take one soon.”

Your hand touches his, just a tiny bit, pinkies finding each other.

“You should take him to the beach.”

“Perhaps we’ll take you too.”

“Oh, I don’t know if my boss will allow that. I am indispensable to the team.”

“I’m sure we can work something out.”

You laugh and lie backwards when your back has finally had enough of all the crouching.

“That was actually my plan all along. I lured you here to get more vacation days.”

He watches you from above, entranced by the image of you splayed out on the sand. Your hair forms a halo around you and the sand seems golden when the first rays of sunlight finally find it. Your eyes do too, “I should have known.”

It feels awkward, sitting when you’re lying down, so he succumbs to the sand at last. You beam at him when he does, relishing in the way he’s come undone before you. You can really look at each other now, there’s no more pretending that the sea has your full attention. Shades of pink and orange in the sky, sea foam landing near your feet, but this is really all there is.

“Do you ever think of quitting the job?”

This really messes with him all of the sudden. You can see the change in the way his body tenses.

“Do you?”

“I asked first.”

He releases a deep breath and you can almost feel warm on your face, “Sometimes, but it’s the only thing I’m good at. I wouldn’t know what else to do.”

“That’s not true. You’re good at many things.”

He avoids your gaze and you know you’ve really struck a nerve here.

“Not good enough.”

“Now, that’s really not true. You’re brilliant at everything you do.”

He sits up, suddenly very aware of his vulnerability.

“Or I just give everything I have to this job and my bare minimum to everything else. Even Jack.”

“That’s not fair, Aaron. You’re a very good father to Jack and I know just how much he looks up at you. Even if it’s the bare minimum sometimes, your bare minimum is a lot more than other people can give at their best. It’s just hard to keep a balance.”

He feels your hand touch his back gently, asking for permission. The way he relaxes under your touch grants it and you move your thumb in circles as a soft caress. He turns to face you.

“Are you thinking of leaving?”

Your hand drops, shocked at the sudden change in his tone. He seems so full of emotion like this; all layers peeled away before you.

“Not decisively. They’re just thoughts,” Aaron seems unconvinced by your answer and your gaze falls downward in an attempt to escape the scrutiny, “I just don’t know if this is something I can do forever, so from time to time, I think about what else there might be out there. Maybe going private, opening up an office.”

“You want to be a therapist?”

“I am licensed.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“Maybe. It definitely seems… easier.”

He doesn’t really know what to say. He knows it would be good for you, he knows this job will eat away at you until there’s very little left there. It’s what it did to him, but the thought of it happening to you seems much more unbearable.

“The team would miss you,” is such a typically professional thing of him to say, so the rest surprises you, “I would miss you.”

“I would miss you too.”

Tenderness, again. Now that he’s started, he doesn’t think he can stop.

“This has been one of the best days I’ve had in a while. I mean, being with Jack always makes me feel much better, but this… being like this with an adult-with you, it’s really nice.”

You smile and adjust your body to be closer to him.

“Really nice.”

From the corner of your eye, you can make out a convenience store in the distance that’s just now opening up.

“Would you allow me to treat you to some ice cream before we go?”

He stands up first, offering you his hand like before.

“I think you know me well enough to know that I won’t,” he stands up first and offers you his hand like before, “I am definitely buying.”

“Worth a try.”

There is sand all over his hair and shoulders. Being this relaxed, it suits him incredibly.

“Can I?”

He leans down and toward you, surrendering to the freedom of your touch when you pat off what sand you can see on him. All these hours of crossing boundaries and you’re still not entirely sure how you’ve gotten so comfortable with him, but he melts every time you touch him, as if experiencing gentleness for the very first time.

Might as well be the first time, he figures.

“You have some too in your hair.”

You turn around and he almost envelops you, although he’s hesitant in the beginning. Both his hands entangle themselves in your hair, those lovely hands, and softly separate and pat where needed. You always knew he hid softness underneath, just didn’t know it was there for you to enjoy.

You get your ice cream, gag when you taste just how much lemon zest they have put in the vanilla and he offers to exchange with his chocolate. Says he does it with Jack all the time and you gasp at the connotation.

“It is absolutely not childish to not like citrus fruits secretly involved in every dessert.”

He hums and smiles at you, bites and licks right where your own mouth was a moment ago. It puts thoughts in both of your heads.

You walk the entire way back and your feet definitely feel it, but you’re too focused on the feeling of impending separation. You will see each other again in half an hour but it just won’t be the same.

It might never be the same.

When you’re finally ready to part from each other in the hallway, he thinks about kissing you. Thinks you would taste like chocolate and waffle on his mouth, thinks a lot about the tiny bit of violet body lotion left on your neck that he can smell from this distance.

Would it really change that much? Is that the final line to cross after tonight?

He doesn’t have any answers, so he doesn’t.

“I’ll see you in a bit.”

“See you in a bit, Aaron.”

He’s going to cling on your use of his first name for a while, although when you’re back in the jet, it’s as if nothing happened. Now clad in his usual attire, he’s regular Hotch; prim and proper, sat upright with crossed arms in his seat in the only way he knows how to rest in front of others.

Yet, you know. You see Aaron in the gentle shutting of his eyes, the tiny remnants of sand in his hair.

Something has changed.

part two

[lordprettyflackotara]

hitchhiker || chapter one || the proxies

tw: mentions of murder

<— prologue

Brian frowned as he picked up a can of soup, examining the label.

Grocery shopping is pointless.

He sighed as he put the can in his shopping cart. His gaze didn’t stray from the shelves, searching for his favorite. Tomato soup.

Not like we stay in one place long enough to really eat all of this shit.

Brian pushed his shopping cart forward, grumbling to himself. Since your meeting the proxies, they had done everything to avoid you. He cringed at the thought of Tim’s weakness. For the first time in years the roles were reversed, Brian the harsh one and Tim the blind softie. He reached forward to grab a can of chicken soup, his cart ramming into something.

His eyes flickered over to the hard stop, shock washing over him like a brutal wave. There you stood, a tiny red shopping basket accompanying your arm. In your hand sat a can of his beloved tomato soup. “Holy shit, Brian?” You asked. No no no no. What the actual fuck were you doing here? Brian awkwardly scratched the back of his neck. They had driven outside of the city to avoid you and here you stood.

“I think you have me mistaken for someone else-” Brian began. An overly optimistic Toby popped over his shoulder, dropping a container of oreos into the chart. His face lit up at the sight of you.

“Hi Y/n!”

Goddammit.

This reminded Brian why he thought Toby was a liability a smooth eighty percent of the time. The other twenty was Hoodie being impressed someone as slender as Toby could chop up a body so fast. You grinned as you walked around the shopping cart. “I didn’t realize you guys lived so far away from the city, I would’ve driven you closer,” You say. Brian admired your sober look, your face flushed with more color and your words no longer slurred.

“We work out here. Just grabbing some groceries on the way home,” Brian answered. Toby pranced around behind you, peaking over your shoulder. “T-t-tomato soup is H-, Brian’s favorit-te,” Toby said. Brian sighed, silently wishing Hoodie was fronting so you couldn’t see his face. You held out the can to him. “You can take it, it’s the last one,” You say, offering him a small smile. Brian hesitated, before remembering how much he enjoyed tomato soup. He reached his hand out, grabbing the can. His fingers brushed against your soft skin, which was radiating a comforting warmth.

You were like a bundle of touchable joy.

Oh fuck he was becoming soft.

“Thank you,” Brian mumbled, placing it in the cart. You eyed the cart suspiciously, noting the lack of substantial food. “I know you guys are middle aged men, but shouldn’t you have some real food in there?” You asked curiously. Not exactly like we have a lot of time for cooking. “We burn a lot of calories when we-” Toby started. Brian sent him a look so viscous he was surprised the kids head didn’t explode. “When we’re a-at work,” He finished. You raised an eyebrow, exchanging glances between the two. You were about to question the men’s relationship, the faint sound of static causing you to close your mouth.

It was overwhelming, the sensation making the left side of your temple throb. Brian was about to excuse them from the situation, a familiar voice interrupting his saving face. “Hey what’s taking so long?” Tim asked. His eyes nearly popped out of his head at the sight of you. “Hi Tim,” You greeted. It was interesting to you that not only had you ran into them again, you had managed to run into all three of them. Your drunken night had wiped away the awkward moments during your interaction.

Tim had thought you would’ve forgotten them entirely, but it was the rather opposite effect than he wanted. Instead of forgetting them, you only forgot the awkwardness and tenseness of the car ride. “Hi there,” Tim greeted. Brian could practically feel Tim’s flusteredness. Over the years they had slaughtered many women without a second thought, including attractive ones. And sure, the three of them hadn’t had intimacy in God knows how long. But Brian just couldn’t understand Tim’s infatuation with you. You were just a girl.

“So um, about dinner,” Tim continued. Brian refrained from visibly showing his distain. There was always the possibility you would’ve forgotten about the dinner proposal. What the fuck was Tim’s problem? It wasn’t as if Brian wanted them to all die practical virgins, it just wasn’t logical. Having any form of relationship would only result in a tragedy. Brian had racked his brain about it long ago, back when his freedom was first stripped away from him. What could he say? He was a horny motherfucker whose potential lovers would be slaughtered or tortured.

“Yeah?” You say. Brian could tell you were getting excited. You were practically bouncing on your heels. Man, maybe you’d make a good match for Toby. Brian shoved the the thought out of his head, looking away. “Why don’t we go grab some burgers or something tonight?” Tim suggested. Brian noticed the slight raise of your left eyebrow. Tim must’ve too, clearing this throat before following up with, “All of us. Our treat.”

You couldn’t have put on a bigger smile even if you had wanted to. “That sounds great. How about the corner burger joint on twenty eighth avenue? It’s near my apartment,” You suggested. Brian watched in horror as Tim grinned, giving you a confirmative nod.

“It’s a date.”

Brian couldn’t usher the three of them out of the store fast enough. Once comfortable in the car, Brian turned towards Tim. “Do you have any idea what you’ve just done? You practically gave her a headstone with her name on it,” He spat. Tim rolled his eyes, digging in his pocket for his faithful box of cigarettes. “One dinner is harmless, isn’t it kid?” He asked, glancing at Toby in the rearview mirror. Brian sighed as the younger man nodded excitedly. “M-most interaction we-ev’e had with another human in a longgg time,” He agreed, his neck twitching to the side again. Brian pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers.

“Don’t weaponize Toby against my argument. We both know this is a terrible idea,” He said flatly. Tim started the car, driving past a fallen over shopping cart on the overgrown field. “If the Operator gets interested in her for even a split second-” Brian continued. Tim rolled his eyes, a cigarette dangling from his lips. “Thats not going to happen, we’d never bring her to him. Besides, she’s just a girl. What’s the worst that could happen?” Tim answered. Out of the seven years they had been partners, Brian had never heard Tim be more nonchalant.

“O-one of us could g-get laid for once,” Toby added. Brian frowned as he reached into one of the grocery bags, pawing away to find the oreos. “Yeah we won’t bring her. But you know they will,” Brian pointed out. The sound of Toby crunching on oreos and the smell of Tim’s cigarette smell overwhelmed Brian’s senses. “They have no reason to be interested in her, nor do they have any reason to front tonight. We already took care of our mission for today. Boss gave us an easy target,” Tim reminded him. It was true, the latest assignment one that would begin easy.

In the trunk of their car sat a corpse of a middle aged man, one who was a detective. He had been investigating the proxies symbol and the various murders they had committed. He was putting all the pieces together, something that led him to a dangerous fate. It was the proxies responsibility to conceal the identities of all creeps. It was their literal job to clean up the messes the Operators mansion residents had made. It became more than personal though once someone began looking into their lives more than they should.

After all, Toby was still considered wanted. Tim and Brian were considered missing. Brian folded his arms, frowning as he looked out of the window.

“Oh yeah that reminds me, how the fuck are we going to discard of the body before dinner?”

\/

You held your phone to your ear, navigating through the whimsical rack of your closet. Your closest friend Nova was on the other end, helping you choose an ensemble for your dinner with the boys.

“Who are these guys again?”

Her voice was laced with concern. You held up a black dress to your figure, analyzing every last detail. “I met them on Halloween. Just a couple of hitchhikers,” You replied. You tossed the black dress aside, grabbing a white one instead. “I read cases of hitchhikers being cannibalistic murderers almost daily you know,” Nova replied. You had grown up with Nova, the two of you remaining close friends into adulthood. Despite the two of you having gone two separate waves career wise, you always made time for each other. She had chosen to be a detective. Despite her constant complaining, her passion was truly driven to seek justice for the victims of psychopaths.

You on the other hand, had made a more reckless choice. Your childhood dreams of being an actress had traveled over into adulthood. Leading in your long term employment at the Steak and Shake as a waitress. “Not all hitchhikers are crazy Nova. Besides, these guys seem nice. You’re the one who’s been telling me to get out there again,” You reminded her. After your nasty breakup with your ex boyfriend, you had become a bit of a reclusive. Halloween was the first time you had been out in months, Nova leaving early with her hookup of the night.

“Yeah but there’s three of them. They’re going to make you pick one,” She informed you. You rolled your eyes. You set your phone down on your dresser, putting it on speaker. “You know with how woke you are i’m surprised you don’t believe in being polygamy,” You said. You shoved your jeans down to your ankles, stepping out of them. You glanced up at a photo of you at graduation, Nova occupying your side. Her caramel skin was always polished and soft, her soft brown eyes always lit up in a smile during photographs. Her hair framed her face just right, giant curls practically bouncing in the picture.

“It’s not that I don’t, I just don’t see you being the polyamorous type,” Nova told you. You shoved off your shirt, tossing it aside carelessly. “If you’re so worried why don’t you go with me?” You suggested. You knew Nova would immediately decline, you just wondered what excuse she would come up with this time. The two of you ran with two very different crowds. Hers more professional, yours more wild. “You know I don’t have time for that right now. Winston just disappeared. Godwin couldn’t wait to throw this case in my lap,” She sighed. You began putting on the dress, struggling to put your arms through the complicated arm holes.

“Yeah? Why’s that?” You asked, trying to sound out together as you put your neck through the wrong hole. You awkwardly shifted on your feet, questioning why you bought this dreaded thing in the first place. “There’s a bunch of murders he thought were connected by some weird symbol. All of them have been gruesome. The chopped up bodies have all been dismembered the same way,” Nova informed you. You grinned as you finally managed to maneuver the dress, admiring yourself in the mirror. “Dude i’m going out to eat in like fifteen,” You reminded her.

“Yeah yeah my bad. I forget regular citizens don’t interact with this kind of stuff,” She said. You refrained from rolling your eyes, reminding yourself she wasn’t being egotistical. She just lived in her own world a majority of the time. You picked your phone up off of the dresser, taking her off of speaker before putting the phone up to your ear. “Well do you think Winston was onto something?” You suggested. Nova seemed to ponder it for a moment before responding. “You know I thought he ran away with his mistress but you’re onto something. He must’ve been on the right track,” She said.

“Most detectives don’t disappear overnight with their wallet still at home,” You reminded her. News headlines had been broadcasting Lewis Winston’s disappearance all morning. “Look at you becoming a little detective. You gotta get your degree so we can become partners,” Nova chuckled. You smiled, pulling on a pair of shoes. “Let me star in at least one blockbuster hit before you force me to change career paths,” You replied. You admired yourself in the mirror, ignoring your antsy nerves. How long had it truly been since you had been out on your own?

“You know i’ll be in the front row of the premiere. Maybe your hitchhiker boyfriends will be there too,” She laughed. Nova meant it as a harmless joke, but the idea alone made you incredibly flustered. “Yeah yeah very funny, i’m going to go have dinner with my hitchhiker boyfriends now,” You told her, guiding the conversation to end.

“Uh huh. Call me if your hitchhiker boyfriends are killers!”

You took your friend’s warning as a joke, but looking back, you should’ve taken her advice.

—> chapter two

[moomine]

backwash | daisuke

author's note: part one of a future series... the mouthwashing brainrot is real... if you want to be part of a taglist for future updates feel free to reply or dm me! (cover image credit)

summary: (daisuke x f!reader) The first day on the Tulpar is short as the reader and the rest of the crew adjust to their new day-to-day life in space. While settling in, she gravitates to Daisuke, the ship's impromptu intern, during a brief but meaningful encounter

word count: 1,153

warnings: no trigger warnings! all characters are 18+

now playing: Mook - "Malmo"

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

EMPLOYEE STATEMENT 001—

My mom wasn’t happy I accepted this job. She knows —like all of us do— that space transit is a dying market. She said: “It’s all automated now. People don’t belong out there anyway.” And yet, Pony Express is still afloat, despite it all. Why did I want to go? I don’t really know. This is all I seem to understand. I mean, what the hell else am I supposed to do with this degree? With my piloting certification? This has been my dream my entire life. If you can tell me that there’s anything better, then, please, let me know. I know I’m under contract now, and there’s no backing out. I don’t plan on it. This is what I love, isn’t it?

DAY ONE—

You would never forget the feeling of the Tulpar taking off. The shaking. The back and forth of force and resistance rocking the old ship as it exited Earth’s atmosphere, launching itself into space. It was similar to riding a rollercoaster. The build up in your torso as your stomach seemed to rise, lifting up and up until it felt like it was bulging at the base of your throat. Then it fell deep into your belly, as if trying to push itself out of your body all together, tipping over the peak of a tall slope. After a moment of nausea, there was nothing. A staggering stillness as the ship settled within the embrace of zero gravity. The persistent rocking ceased. The whining of metal warping hushed to a whisper, and then into a chilling silence. The adrenaline which had built up blended with something else. Something almost euphoric.

The cockpit was a sickly green, illuminated by the various nearby screens that signaled the take-off was a success. Under the tight grip of your seat belt, you shifted in your chair, attempting to loosen the rough fabric fastens.

Captain Curly leaned into the microphone and spoke over the intercom: “All right, folks. Thank you for flying with Pony Express,” he laughed at his own joke. “You’re free to walk around and get yourself acquainted with our lovely ship. Afterall, she’ll be housing us for another three hundred eighty one days. Let’s make this haul a good one. Cheers.”

He looked over his shoulder from where he sat, a proud smile gracing his lips. It was an almost cocky expression. He appeared proud of himself, maybe even happy to get to show off in front of a new pilot.

“How was that?” Curly asked in your direction.

“Incredible,” you said breathlessly. Your eyes were still wide from the excitement.

The pilot let out a low belly laugh. His smile stretched from ear to ear. “Always happy to please.” He turned to his co-pilot, Jimmy, whose face was almost as green as the screens that surrounded you. “How about you, Jim? Doing okay?”

“Never better,” Jimmy croaked, his eyes closed as he focused on not being sick.

Curly’s smile transformed into a smirk. A rough, friendly hand landed on Jimmy’s shoulder as Curly gave it a good squeeze.

“Still acting like a first time flier,” Curly teased him, eyes flicking back to you. “Go ahead and get settled in. Make some friends. All of that good stuff. Tomorrow the real work begins.”

“Right. Thank you.” You nodded in response. There was a quiet click as you unfastened your seatbelt and stood up straight. Your legs swayed beneath you, still adjusting to the feeling of being upright again.

The walk to the sleeping quarters from the cockpit was a short one. As you ventured down the hall —drawn deeper within the belly of the Tulpar by the sound of distant conversation— the rib-like pipes groaned as if greeting you. The door opened with a low hiss, revealing a short hallway with two rooms on either side and one at the end of the hall. In comparison to the cold, metallic halls from room to room, the sleeping quarters were a warm and welcoming sight. Out-dated wood paneling stretched up the walls, the floor a tacky linoleum in a similar tone. Inside of that tiny hallway, you started to forget you were on the ship at all.

“Listen, kid.” You saw an older man, Swansea, standing in a doorway, his north-eastern accent heavy as he spoke. “It’s all right to take it easy today, but tomorrow I’m gonna need you to take this seriously. It won’t be all coloring books and cartoons out here, you understand?”

“You got it, sir! You won’t have to worry about me one bit, I’m pretty self sufficient. Y’know, my friends back home say I’m the best-” Another younger voice spoke from inside of the room before quickly getting cut off.

“I don’t need your life’s story, kid. I just need you to pull your weight,” Swansea said.

You walked down the hall quietly, trying not to disturb the two as they continued back and forth. Each door had a last name displayed on the front, with yours at the very end of the hall. As you passed, Swansea looked over his shoulder at you and offered a small nod of acknowledgement. Just past him, you could see Daisuke who stood in the middle of his room, saying something about how he would do his best.

Daisuke’s gaze shifted from the older man in his doorway to you. Although it was only for a moment, his eyes seemed locked on yours as a soft smile spread on his lips. He stopped what he was saying, and raised a hand to wave at you. A short, but sweet gesture, which you happily returned.

“We’ll see about that,” Swansea spoke up, grabbing Daisuke’s attention once more. “I’m gonna nap until dinner’s ready. Your first task is to leave me the hell alone. Think you can do that?”

“No problemo,” Daisuke responded. He raised his hands into finger guns, shooting two shots at Swansea.

Shaking his head, the older man rolled his eyes while trying to suppress his obvious annoyance. “God, what did I get myself into…”

You entered your room as Swansea entered his, closing your door behind you. The room glowed with soft, yellow light. It was small, and almost clinical, but somehow cozy at the same time. In one corner sat a twin sized bed with a red blanket and golden sheets, and in the other was a mid-century dresser. Your bags and belongings rested in a less than neat pile in the middle of the room, clearly shaken from take off.

The high of your adrenaline had fizzled out significantly. Although you knew it would be wise to finish unpacking, your head felt heavy and your body ached, yearning to lay down for a bit. You kicked off your boots and crawled on top of the scarlet comforter. Before you knew it, you were like old Swansea, napping just before dinner.

[lokis-army-77]

Live from Hawkins

Older!Eddie Munson x female reader

Word Count: 4.1k

Eddie watched as you are stood up on a date and without a second thought, he brings you home.

Warning: 18+. Eddie is in his late 50s to early 60s, reader is 20s to early 30s. p in v, oral (f receiving), dirty talk, sir kink, pet names, a few spanks, fingering, mention of a partner having died.

A/n: Thank you @munson-blurbs for hyping me up to write this and for thinking of the funny little thing that happens at the end hehe, I love you <3 also my version older!eddie is inspired by @ farmerusedto on tiktok and Instagram.

Masterlist  Part 2

The fun of nightlife had escaped Eddie when his biological clock started making him go to bed at 8:30 p.m. instead of 2 a.m., but tonight was an exception. After an extraordinarily shitty day, he thought a drink or two at his old haunt would cheer him up. It didn’t, not entirely. The whisky he had been nursing tasted like shit and the crowd in the bar left little to be desired, except for you. 

Eddie had clocked you when you entered the establishment at eight on the dot. His eyes raked over the pretty silky red dress that stuck to the curves of your body as you made your way to a tiny circular table with two chairs and sat down. Your head was held high as you watched the front door. 

Ah, a date, He thought. Then he began thinking about all the dates he had been on in the long past years until he had met his wife, and then the lack thereof after her passing twenty-some years ago. He’s never had time to date. Raising kids two kids as a single dad while also being a simi-successful musician turned producer, looking for romance added a whole new thing to worry about so he just didn’t, but now, in his later years of life, with his children grown and moved out, he could afford the chance to indulge. Sadly though, you were apparently taken. 

Even after he had finished his one glass of alcohol, he waited. Watching you as your posture slowly became slouched, you sipped on some fancy beverage, and your head stopped peaking up when the bell to the door chimed as it was opened and closed. You were beautiful and didn’t deserve to be stood up.

When the clock struck nine, Eddie stretched his aching joints and stood from the bar. Sauntering his way over to your tiny table.

“This seat taken?” He asked, hand resting on the back of the chair. 

You lifted your head from your phone startled and shook your head. “Unfortunately, no. You can take it.” Sighing, you look back down at your phone, expecting him to take the lone chair and pull it up to another table. To your surprise, he actually sat down in front of you. “Um… can I help you?” 

“Sorry, I just saw you sitting here by yourself for a while and thought you might like the company. A pretty girl like you in a pretty dress like that shouldn’t be sitting alone in a bar like this, some weirdo could show up.”

You blush, almost as red as your dress. “And how do I know you aren’t the weirdo?” 

“Good question. You don’t.” He laughed.

The deep timber of it had your stomach flipping. His facial features were hidden under a nicely kept beard, full of salt and pepper hairs, more salt than anything else. The shaggy, slightly curly hair atop his head looked the same. He was definitely older than you by a couple of decades, but hey he was nice looking and obviously, the guy you were supposed to be seeing wasn’t coming. What harm could come from flirting with this guy?

“But hey, a bit of mystery can be a good thing, don’t you think?” He asks. 

You can't help the giggle that passes your lips. “Oh, really?” You look him up and down. His outfit was something reminiscent of the eighties, only more subdued. Tight black jeans, motorcycle boots, and an Iron Maiden shirt that had been ripped at the hem. Before he had sat down you even spotted a black and white skull bandana in his back pocket. “I’ve heard that with age comes wisdom. Are you here to enlighten me then?”

He lets out a more hearty laugh this time, his head falling back. Your eyes scan the contours of his neck and watch as his Adam's apple bobs up and down. “I don’t know about wisdom, but I do have a few decades under my belt. Maybe I was the one hoping to learn a little thing or two from such a charming young lady as yourself. 

Your hand lifts to cover your smile and you look away almost bashfully. “Such a smooth talker aren’t you?” 

“As smooth as I can be…” He leans forward, hand resting on the table, fingers laced together. You see the many rings decorating them. The flip in your stomach drops and you clench your thighs together. “Why? Is my charm winning you over?”

“So that’s what you’re trying to do, huh?” You smile. 

“Well, it was either that or all the vintage dad jokes I know.” He smiles back. 

You can feel your mood being lifted from the once sour thing that it was into something more bubbly as you listen to him. “Vintage dad jokes? Sound’s intriguing. Maybe I’ll stick around for now.” 

He nods. “That’s a good choice Sweetheart. Who could resist the allure of outdated humor and a bit of gray hair?” His hand tugs at his beard. 

“You know, I could be out having an adventure with the guy I was supposed to be meeting here instead of chatting with a silver fox.” There is a permanent grin etched into your face as he gasps in faux offense. 

“You wound me, Sugar.  Isn’t it usually the unexpected adventures that turn into something unforgettable?” Eddie couldn’t lie to himself, he was laying it on pretty thick, but it was all in hopes that maybe, just maybe you might come home with him. 

“Well, I do have to admit you are intriguing, maybe I’ll take you up on this adventure.” It was childish, the way your heel-clad foot slid its way past the single, center leg of the table and halfway up the man’s calf. 

When he feels your foot rubbing on him, he has to steel his face. One of his hands slipped from the table and slithered its way down his leg and caught your foot. “What do you say we get out of here?” His hands were so big and his fingers so long that they wrapped with ease around your ankle. The pads of his fingers pressed in gently and you hoped he couldn’t feel how fast your pulse were thumping throughout your body. 

Your mouth suddenly turned dry, words evaded you. All you could do was nod in response. He let go of your foot and stood, reaching out his hand. You take it and he pulls you up as well. “My name’s Eddie by the way.” 

…

The drive to Eddie’s suburban home was filled with chase touches and lingering hands. His large palm warmed your thigh, his fingers dug into the plushness there. You cozied up to him, lips trailing up his neck to his ear where you nibbled on the lobe. 

Eddie groaned as he white-knuckled the steering wheel. His breath caught in his throat when you inched a delicate hand into his lap. 

“Now, little girl, don’t be starting something you can’t finish.” He chided. His hand on your thigh moved ever closer to the already high hem of your dress. 

“Little girl?” you whisper into his ear. “I’m not a little girl, old man.”

You feel every bump and jerk of his 1960s Ford pickup as he practically jumps the curb and slams the brakes in his driveway, screeching to a halt. Eddie unfastened his seatbelt and turned to you. His hand immediately found purchase on the back of your neck and he pulled you in for a kiss. His lips were soft and plump and his beard tickled. You giggled into the kiss but that was cut short when they turned to gasps as soon as Eddie caressed his tongue into your mouth. 

“Eddie…” You moan into him, fingers latched onto his shirt, pulling him into you. 

“What is it, Sweetheart?” He pulled away from the kiss. 

You looked him in his eyes, the street lamp outside aiding in deepening their already dark hue. “Touch me. Need you to touch me.” 

He smirked. “Alright baby, I’ll touch you.” 

Then, he backed away, hooking you from himself and slipping out the door. A pout worked its way onto your features as he walked around and opened your door. Tisking he shook his head. “What’s the frown for sugar?” 

You took his outstretched hand, he was ever the gentleman. “You stopped kissing me.” 

Leaning down he gave you a sloppy peck on the lips. “Well, I can't touch you how you want, Sweetheart, unless we go inside.” He chortled as he guided you to his front door. As soon as the lock was undone and the knob twisted, you pushed the two of you inside. You were hot and worked up and needed something to help the pounding ache that had made itself known between your thighs. 

Inside, you try your best to tug Eddie’s shirt up and over his head but he is quick to catch your hands, pushing you back against the wall and holding them above your head. 

“Not so fast. You’ve got to ask for the things that you want.” 

You shake your head in defiance. You knew where this was going from the way he gripped your wrists. From the way his voice became stricter, more dominant. Need pools in the pit of your stomach. This was what you had been craving, what no other man could make you feel. 

“Please.” Your plea comes out just above a whisper. 

“Tsk, Sweetheart, I think you can do better than that.” Eddie maneuvers both your wrists into the hold of one hand while he lets the fingers of his other run down the open skin of your neck tantalizingly slowly. Goosebumps begin to prickle on your skin as the fingers wander down your chest and over the tops of your breasts, cleavage on display, heaving as you take sharp breaths of air. 

“Please, Eddie.” Voice cracking. “Please, I want you. I want you to touch me, I want to feel you.” 

He groans, hips pressing you to the wall harder. “What a good girl you are.” He captures your lips in another heated kiss.

The night had barely begun and you already felt like you were drowning in him. The scent of menthol cigarettes, whisky, and something almost woody filled your nose and all you could think of was the man pinning you to the wall.

A staggered gasp caught in your throat when Eddie dropped your wrists and heaved you up by the waist. Your legs cinched around him and his arms held you close. “Why don’t we take this to my room? I can put some nice mood music on.” He kissed up your neck as he carried you through his home. 

“Mood music, hum?” You whimper when he sucks on a sensitive spot. “What, gonna play the Temptations greatest hits? Or how about the Chordettes? Don’t they have that song with your name in it?” 

You yelp when his hand smacks your ass. “M’not that old, Sweetheart. It’s more like eighties rock ballads but that’s not what I’m choosing.” The smirk that contoured his lips was wicked. 

“Mmm, and how old are you?” You ask, words muffled by your lips meeting his. 

“Old enough.” Eddie pushes his door open and it hits the wall with a thud. He walks to his bed in the darkness and practically throws you on top of the sheets. He doesn’t follow, instead, he flips the bedside lamp on and the room fills with a soft yellow light. 

His room isn’t what you thought it would be. It's all dark colors, blacks and grays. Three electric guitars hang like decorations on the wall in front of you. A few picture frames are scattered over the dresser to your left, too far to see the images clearly in the dim light. You watch him like a hawk as he walks to that very dresser and turns on a speaker. 

He really wasn’t kidding about the mood music. You think. 

“Get comfortable Sugar… Just got to figure out this damn phone.” You chuckle as you watch him fiddle with the touchscreen and cheer when the music fills the silence. You laugh even louder when Eddie fumbles the phone in his hands and drops it to the floor. “Shit.” He bends down to pick it up and when he does he props it against the mirror of the dresser. 

“Is it okay?” You ask, hand covering the giant smile plastered on your face. 

“It’ll live.” He shakes his head. When the giggles die down, he slowly comes toward you, crawling up the bed. The way his hands travel up your bare legs gives you chills. He pries you open gently, your dress hikes up your thighs, and the wetness of your pussy is on full display. 

“Well, aren’t you a naughty girl… No panties?” He asks, hot breath on the inside of your thigh as he nips at the skin. 

You shake your head as you explain. “No, not wearing a bra either. You can see the outline through the dress” 

He grins a devilish grin and slowly teases his way up your thigh. The hot air from his breath caresses your skin white his beard tickles you. He pushes back your dress a little more before looking you in the eyes. “Ready?”

The whine that comes from you is almost unrecognizable, all desperate and needy when his mouth attaches itself to your pretty cunt. Your hand flies to his head, gripping his silky hair between stiff fingers. 

“Fuck. E-Eddie.” You rasp. He hums the vibrations add to the cacophony of pleasurable feelings between your legs. 

Eddie’s tongue rolls along your folds, wetting every inch of skin. The gentle sucks he performs on your clit pull moan after moan from you. Your back arches and your hips push down into the bed. Eddie’s hands push your thighs farther apart, the plush of them pooling through his spread fingers. 

He loves the feel of you. Loves that he can make you writhe under him with just his tongue. His ego is through the roof, having not been this intimate with someone in years. 

It's been all but a few minutes, to you its been hours, Eddie is expertly working you up up up and to the edge. One hand smoothes down your leg and under his chin. You feel the subtle touches of his fingers as they linger around your cunt. His other hand pushes your leg back more, creating more room. You heave a cry when two fingers breach you, stretching you out at a leisurely pace. 

In and out, in and out, in and out he went, fucking you deeply with those long thick fingers of his, covered in rings. The metal soon became warm as they began to be covered in your slickness and his spit that dribbled down to meet them.

With the way his fingers pushed up into your walls, poking the fire in your belly. The ember that it once was, was not a full-on flame. It was wild and hot and needed something more to feed on. 

“Eddie!” You cried, clamping down around him. Body ridged, ready to let go. 

“That’s right baby, say my fucking name.” He pulled back only to reattach to your clit and pump his fingers tenfold. 

His words were tender to the flame, making it rage out of control. “Eddie!” You cried again, wonton moans following as you feel the fire spreading. “Eddie, Eddie, Eddie,” you chant like a prayer. 

He’s greedy as he laps up every ounce of your release, you have to push him away gently, too sensitive for him to keep going but the crooked smirk he gives you as he kisses up your body tells you he wants more. 

Your breathing is rapid as you come down. Your legs feel like jello and you’re hot, super hot. The fire in your veins had rekindled and the dress, conforming to your body, was becoming uncomfortable in the heat. 

Eddie can see the way you tug at the garment and gives it a tug of his own. “I hate to see this little number go but I need to see all of you.” He manhandles you onto your stomach, snatching the tiny red zipper and pulling it down to reveal the soft skin of your back. 

His hands rub into your muscles, thumbs catching on knots and smoothing them out. It was intimate, something you had never experienced in a one-night stand. He removed the tiny straps from your shoulders and kneaded until you were sighing contently into his sheets. Lower and lower he went, tugging the fabric with him and eventually taking it off, throwing it into the abyss. Rough fingers squeezed at the fat of your ass. 

Unknowingly, Eddie had bent down, and as he was massaging you bit down playfully on your ass cheek. A weak squeal erupts from your throat. “Eddie, what are you doing?” 

“I can’t help it if you look good enough to eat.” He bites down again and you buck your hips back. A hand quickly smacks down on your ass. “Quit being a brat. First not asking for what you want and now this? What am I going to do with you?”  Condescension drips thickly from his words. 

You wiggle your hips in his grasp. “M’sorry.” 

Another smack. “I’m sorry what?” 

The fire burns brighter with this fuel.

“I’m sorry, Eddie.”

He spanks you a third time. “Try again, baby.”

Your stomach flips. “I’m sorry… Sir.”

He hums in satisfaction. His hands wrap around you and pull you to your knees, ass in the air. With your head buried in the covers, you can only guess what he’s doing by the subtle movements behind you. 

Eddie has taken his shirt off and unzipped his pants. His cock achingly hard and straining against his black boxers. “Gonna fuck this pussy good, baby.” You whimper in response. He shickers, “You like that, Sweetheart? You want my cock in that pretty pussy of yours?” 

“Please,” You mewl, aching to finally have him inside you. The roughness of his hand steadies you as he inches closer. His hard cock on the other hand. He presses it against your folds, the head slipping through easily. You release a shaky breath when he nudges your clit. “Need you inside, please Sir.”

“Gonna give it to you baby,” Eddie replies, pushing into you. His breathing shudders at the warmth surrounding him. Your cunt squeezes him tightly, sucking him in and not letting him go. 

He feels amazing stretching you out. He's bigger than you thought, wider. The tip pushes into your walls as he begins to thrust into you, the most wonderful grunts and growls filling your ears from behind. 

"So fucking tight, Sugar." Eddie fucks into you at a hard brushing pace with stamina you didn't know he had. His hands grip your hips so hard you know there will be visible marks there later but you don't mind. 

You turn your head slightly and look over your shoulder as best you can. Eddie has a wild look in his eye, streaks of gray hair falling into his face. Your eyes catch on the plethora of ink etching his skin. You had seen the ones covering his arms but you couldn't have imagined this. Your mind wandered to what the rest of his body looked like. We're there more pieces yet to be seen or did alabaster skin win out as you go further down his body? The thought of seeing the rest of him has you bouncing your ass back into him, meeting his every thrust with fervor. 

The fire Eddie had lit within you was once again roaring out of control. The way his cock filled you deep has you shaking in delight. 

"More, more, more," you called out to him, fists clamping down onto his sheets so hard it was a wonder you hadn't ripped them. 

“More? Is that what you want?” He patronizes. His right hand moves from your hip and he bends forward, snatching your hair up at the base of your skull. The dull throb that accompanies his tight hold has you wailing. Your stomach flips and flips, pressure building up. You’re going to cum and you tell him as much. 

“Please, keep going Eddie, fuck. Keep going, I’m gonna cum, Sir.” Big blubbery tears have started to streak down your face, once pristine makeup now smeared. 

He pulls on your hair. ‘Don’t cum baby. Wanna watch that pretty face as you cum on my cock.” 

Eddie pulls out of you and it feels like forever until you are flipped onto your back and he inserts himself back inside. The new angle has your legs clamping shut around him and the head of his cock brushing against a sensitive spot which makes you keen into him.

You make eye contact with him, his gaze is feral. He’s looking at you like you’re a buffet laid out for him. His hips rock into you with such force that your body is slowly jerking up the bed. You reach out for him, hands open and close, needing to have him close to you. That fire is still burning within you and it is scorching. 

Eddie leans into your touch, relishing in the feeling of your nails dragging long scratches down his pecks and stomach. He catches one, entwining his fingers with yours and pinning your hand back into the mattress. Another intimate moment that had butterflies erupting alongside your fire. 

“Please,” you whimper. “Wanna cum so bad.” 

He leans down more, pressing a chased kiss on your lips. “Alright Sweet girl, you can cum.” 

When you let go, Eddie can’t help the absolutely hedonistic moan that comes forward. He’s rutting into your constricting cunt like an animal. The look of absolute ecstasy that washes over your face had him fighting off his own release. 

“Where do you want it, Baby? Where do you want my cum?” 

It’s absolutely crazy, the place that comes to mind, but some deep, dark, nefarious place inside you wants it so badly. Craves is. 

Without thinking, brain foggy with a greediness only comparable to the deadly sin itself, you blurt, “Inside.” 

Eddie’s hips stutter and his mind goes blank. Inside? Fuck, She wants it inside. He groans, fighting himself. He shouldn’t but he wants to. Oh, how he wants to. Thoughts of what your pussy would look like leaking his cum have him going ridged, his conscience losing out against a primal need he didn’t know he had. 

“Fuck fuck fuckfuckfuckfuck ah!” He’s a moaning mess when he finally gives in and lets himself cum. 

You can feel his release as a warmth spreads out from your tummy and envelopes you. Eddie falls careful not to let all of his weight squish you. His kisses make you giggle as you try and catch your breath. 

You’re exhausted, warn out in a way you never have been. “Thank you,” you say, kissing him back. He looked at you with soft, round eyes.

“Why are you thanking me, Sweetheart?” 

You sigh, content. “You saved me from a night of wallowing in my self-pity.”

He shakes his head. “Beautiful girl like you deserves to be treated right, that guy’s a bastard.” 

“Tha-” You’re cut off by the loud ringing of his phone, still connected to the speaker.  Eddie cringes at the volume and turns slightly to eye the phone but does not move to get up. It stops ringing a moment after. 

“I think I should get going…” You whisper and give him another kiss. 

“Mmm, you could stay the night. I can take you back to your car tomorrow.” 

You pout at him. “Are you sure? I don’t want to impose.”

“Sweetheart, I’m asking you to stay, you aren't imposing on anything.” 

You giggle and go to answer but you are interrupted by his phone ringing again. Eddie says quietly, “What the hell?” before pulling himself out of you. He hesitates a moment, watching as his cum leaks past the puffy, used lips of your cunt, then grabs at his phone. 

‘HARRINGTON’ Is flashing across the screen. 

“What do you want man? I’m in the middle of something.” 

Eddie still has his phone connected to the speaker and the next few sentences make Your smile fall and your face bloom into a heat that could rival the sun. 

“Oh, I know you are. Half the fucking world does you dipshit!” 

“Wow okay Steve, calm down. No need for name-calling.”

“Eddie I swear to god, do you know what you’ve just done?” 

“No…?” Eddie scratches his head, looking at you and shrugging his shoulders. 

“You just fucking broadcasted you having fucking sex LIVE on fucking Facebook!”

[on-a-lucky-tide]

Your tags make me want to read Price getting to pat Nik. Please? 🥺

Nik's hair is a reflection of his character.

cw: none (partly inspired by a post by @panchulien with a young Nik and Price).

Price realised he was obsessed with Nik's hair quite early on. When they'd met, it had been a harsh buzz cut; a number two all the way over at the very longest, paired with a clean shaven jaw. It hadn't suited him. Not even in his blue uniform and cap. His eyes were too warm for the austere, minimalist impression the rest of ensemble was trying to communicate. It was like his internal conflict had manifested in his physical appearance; the severe officer battling the warm-hearted Russian patriot.

After Price had "liberated" him, or rather, encouraged him to turn informant and cut his own path towards liberation, Nik had grown his hair out. Price remembered seeing him for the first time after freeing him from the detention centre in which his own government had been about to execute him. Nearly a year had passed, and Nik's hair had grown into an unruly mane. Close to a mullet, but with erratic, thick black curls paired with roguish facial hair. He'd reminded Price of a musketeer or a Renaissance poet; the sombre misery had been replaced by an almost manic charisma.

That had suited him. It set off the wildness in his eyes. But that wildness had manifested in other, more dangerous ways. Price and Nik had fed off of each other's anger and penchant for violence in those early days. When they were on op together, their lack of boundaries had led them to dark places; Nik, without direction or purpose beyond point and shoot, and Price with a chip on his shoulder.

Price had watched those thick curls fall across a blood smeared face after Nik had beaten a man to death with his bare hands more than once, the crooked smirk that followed revealing a flash of something raw and in pain beneath the surface. They crossed lines, violated boundaries and codes of ethics, telling themselves it was for a higher purpose that not even they had much of a handle on.

Mac had tried to keep them apart. Had warned Price away and told him to get a grip. Dogs that bit the hand that fed them were put down eventually, one way or another. But Nik had been intoxicating. His rage completed and complemented Price's in the worst and best ways.

Nik needed to heal. They both did. It took years. Years of dancing around each other, of finding the limit of what they would do for the "greater good", working out what that even bloody meant in the first place. They carved out their own morality, separate from the hypocrisy of the institutions that had made them, and slowly, slowly, the rage, the bleeding wounds inside Nikolai, had healed. Price had fallen in love with that wild, uncontrollable maniac, and he had stayed in love with him once he'd found enough peace to stop his own self-destruction.

Price sat across from him in the little boat they had hired for a tour down the River Oder. Nik had wanted to show Price Wrocław, the Venice of Poland. Twelve little islands connected by over a hundred little bridges, with one of the biggest markets in Europe huddled in the centre. Nik had spent the morning dragging Price down side streets to find some of the three hundred odd little bronze gnomes scattered throughout the city. "To commemorate the Orange Alternative movement," Nik had explained, his big hands gesturing expressively towards the Gothic Town Hall, tone excitable and boyish, "they used absurdist humour to protest against communist rule in the eighties."

Nik was at peace now. Nearing his fiftieth birthday, his hair was receding into a deeper widow's peak, smoothed back and neat, with slight curls at the back and beneath his ears. His stubble flattered his jaw and Price liked raking his nails through it when they kissed. Not too wild, not too austere. A perfect balance that reflected the equilibrium in Nik's heart.

"John?" Nik asked, his eyebrows raised. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, comrade," Price said, flashing rueful smile. "Just thinkin' about old times."

"Ah." Nik scratched up his bare forearm to the fold of the sleeve at his elbow. "Well then," he picked up his glass of krupnik and Price did the same, "to old times."

"And all the good times to come, cheers." Price knocked back a mouthful of the liqueur and grimaced. "Jesus fuck, Nik, this shit is fockin' 'orrid." He tipped the remainder of the glass overboard. "Could murder a man for a decent stout."

Nik rolled his eyes. "You take the Englishman out of England, but..."

Price kicked his shin. "Yeah yeah, Mr World Wide. I'm a simple man with simple tastes, not all of 'em good."

"Oh, I don't know," Nik hummed. "You are dating me after all."

And there, just for a moment, was a flash of that wild, curly-haired man that had first stolen Price's heart in the devilish little grin on Nik's face, and Price's blood ran hot in his veins.

[wandasaura]

SEE WHATS UNDER THAT ATTITUDE

summary — wanda intends to keep the promise she made to you, but that doesn’t mean you won’t have to work to earn it

warning(s) — established relationship, married wandanat, heavy on the mommy kink, subspace, entrance of the oral fixation, degradation, praise, dumbification, light humiliation, fingering, ¿light nipple torture?, definitely nipple stimulation, teasing, edging, orgasm control, mention of orgasm denial, begging, crying, fake sympathy, biting, oral sex, overstimulation, forced orgasm, aftercare, men/minors dni

authors note — there are some russian exchanges between wandanat toward the beginning, i’ll add translations for at the end but if they’re not correct, blame google translate. this was highly requested so i hope it’s everything you’ve been waiting for!

you are in love universe

♥️⊹ ˚ . 18+, men/minors dni ⁺ 𓈒 ꒰💌꒱ ♡ ･ mommy maximoff

The bed had been abandoned when you finally came to consciousness. The room was dark, the blinds drawn over the windows and blocking out sunlight, but the peaks of gold that kissed the trim around the windowsill was enough to gauge how late in the morning it was. The first sensation that crossed your mind was the lingering ache on the skin where Wanda’s had unforgivingly struck you half a hundred times, the second sensation that registered was the soft throb in your core that had been left unsatisfied hours earlier. A quiet whine rolled past your lips, filling the silent room with sound that was left unanswered. Your head still felt like it was filled with cotton, thoughts still hazy and disoriented. 

Leaving the bedroom behind was a decision made lightly, but the absence of blankets over your shoulders felt like the cruelest punishment as you descended toward the living room. Wanda didn’t work in the office on Friday’s, or at least she tried not to most weeks. Typical Friday’s were spent in quiet company, if Natasha’s stories proved truthful, but the few times you’d spent the day in Westview had come with silence from the redhead who spent hours holed up in her office. It hadn't occurred to you then that she busied herself to avoid you, but with the only indication of her presence in the house coming from the laugh track behind some old eighties sitcom, you realized this was more typical of her routine. 

Your footsteps were soft; careful and easy. It wasn’t intentional, nothing felt intentional in this state, but the sweetness of your mood could not be pushed further than soft taps of naked skin and quiet hums that tried to be words but fell flat. Wanda’s head craned in the direction of the stairs when she’d first heard the door creak on its hinges, counting down the seconds until you came into view. It was late, late enough for breakfast to have been eaten and dishes to have been washed, but even one glimpse at you could tell that you were still beneath the confines of subspace. She wasn’t surprised, slightly concerned, but not entirely surprised. She had pushed you farther than anyone ever had last night, careful of boundaries that had been set but still firm with her hand and treatment. She had forced you into submission in a manner that was unkind and dominant, she was not expecting you to stumble down the stairs in a clear state of mind, but the sight of your naked chest still bare of a shirt indicated just how far deep you were. 

“Hi, sweetheart.” She smiled at you warmly, and you frowned in confusion when she didn’t incline her head toward the couch. You needed her to tell you what to do, wanted her to keep her grip on the reins and hold them tightly. Sensing your distress at this new sense of control, Wanda frowned realizing that her soft approach would not work you through this limbo. “Come here, baby.” The permission to approach that you had been waiting for finally came, and your feet that wouldn’t carry you forward without it started to move toward her again. 

You stood in front of her with a silent question in mind, but Wanda was not willing to budge without the presence of your words. She needed to get you up, and coddling you was only a recipe for disaster. “Is there something you need, sweetheart?” Her approach was gentle, yet firm. Any harder and she would find the opposite effect of what she intended. 

You nodded pleadingly, fingers coming up to sit in your mouth the same way hers had been last night. The sensation wasn’t the same, not even close, and that seemed to be too much to handle at this moment because tears that Wanda would deem ‘crocodile tears’ glimmered in your eyes. Even as your reserve crumbled, fingers falling back down to your sides and curling into the soft cotton of Natasha’s sleep shorts, she didn’t waver. 

“Words, honey. I know you know how to use them. You used them very well last night.” Wanda tutted, shaking her head at your behavior dismissively. Your mouth opened and closed as you shifted through the haze in your thoughts attempting to string together a coherent sentence that articulated your wants to her. 

When no more than a single word came to mind, you decided that had to be good enough, and nimbly you forced it past your chapped lips and into the space between your bodies, hoping it was loud enough to reach her ears, “Hold.” 

A smile pulled at the corners of Wanda’s lips and she nodded at you encouragingly. “Of course I’ll hold you, sweetheart.” She pulled her arms away from the closed off position she had been maintaining, opening her posture up for your added weight. 

You settled contently against her chest, your legs thrown over her hips. The position allowed relief to come to the sore skin on your bottom, and you hummed in satisfaction at the newfound release. Wanda laughed softly when a look of blissful realization settled on your dazed features, and her nails took full advantage of your exposed back as she placed feather light scratches to your spine. Natasha was fond of being held like this after an intense session, so it was no shock that you had come to like it too. Your head fell onto Wanda’s shoulder, just above the place where her heart sat. 

“Nat!” Wanda called for her wife; said wife that you had yet to locate as the rest of the house sat in perfect silence. Natasha wasn’t a loud person, quite quiet actually, but there hadn’t even been an inkling in your mind that she lingered somewhere close, just barely out of sight. Your thoughts had been a one track road to Wanda, but at the call of Natasha’s name you were desperate for her all the same. 

You picked your head up from Wanda’s shoulder, searching the room for any trace of Natasha that you could have possibly missed. Wanda smiled at your clear adoration for her wife, but guided your head back down to her chest when she noticed the thick haze coming over your eyes once more. She hadn’t had the pleasure of treating anyone with such tender dominance in years. Natasha was hard to break down to this point, her unwillingness to fully submit a persistent mental barrier, and Wanda was thankful to be useful in this way.

When Natasha appeared, blue light glasses keeping red hair from falling into her eyes, you realized that the reason she had been so hard to spot was because she was hidden away in the dining room, a place the couple rarely sat if it wasn’t for a meal.

“Yeah?” She asked, clearly confused about why Wanda had called for her instead of seeking her out physically, but when her eyes trailed to find her wife’s, she noticed your position against the Sokovian’s chest and a smug smirk pulled at her lips. Even if the bet hadn’t been made, she had still won. “Ona vse yeshche daleko vnizu, da?” 

Wanda nodded her head at the question asked in Russian, her hand resuming its delicate scratching along your back. You hadn’t realized you had missed the feeling until it reappeared higher up your spine, but when it did and you weren’t expecting it, you shivered away instinctively. Wanda didn’t take your initial flinch as a reason to stop, and you were thankful because when she persisted, you melted into the touch. “Da, ty poydesh' za odnoy iz svoikh tolstovok? V obozrimom budushchem ya budu zapert zdes'.” 

It could have been hours that you sat in silence with Wanda, or it could have been minutes, you honestly weren’t too sure about the passing of time around you, but you knew that you felt cared for, and you knew that you felt loved. You hadn’t understood the words that had been spoken in Russian over top of your head, but when Natasha had let her feet carry her upstairs and into the bedroom, you realized they’d been about you. The hoodie she came down with was soft, and Wanda had helped you into it with a practiced ease. That had been the most movement that had come from you, but Wanda didn’t make a fuss about your chosen stillness. She merely set her eyes on the reruns of old sitcoms, and occasionally whispered something sweet to you that required no verbal response. Somewhere in that mix, you had begun to bite at her shoulder, content to find that the sensation was the same pleasurable one you had found last night, and she hadn’t stopped you from further discovering it. It was when your head had finally cleared that you recognized the signs of hunger in your belly, remembering that dinner had been all but forgotten about last night, and when you pulled away from Wanda, her first instinct was to guide you right back down. 

“I’m hungry.” You had protested her guidance, pushing against the hand that cradled the back of your head tenderly until she finally allowed you to sit straight up like you wanted. 

“You back with me, dorogaya?” She double-checked, not wanting to blindly take your first coherent sentence as proof that you were fully functioning. She wanted to avoid a subdrop, knowing that it was a less than pleasurable experience and had caused Natasha a thick bout of depressive thoughts the one and only time she had failed to communicate her needs before they spiraled into darkness. 

“Yeah.” Despite the clearness of your head, your words were still soft. The only time you ever came across harshly was when you tried to go toe to toe with Wanda. The redhead smiled at your affirmation, guiding you off her lap but not fully releasing control over to you just yet. She grabbed your hand, leading you into the kitchen where pots and pans dried on the mat beside the sink. You pouted, realizing that either her or Natasha had made pancakes and eggs for breakfast, and neither had woken you up to join in on the fun. “You had pancakes without me?” Was the first question that rolled off your tongue, and Wanda shook her head in bemusement that pancakes were your only concern. 

“Your body needed the rest, moya lyubov’. I can make you some now if you want.” Wanda suggested, helping you up onto the counter despite your proven capability to do it yourself just fine. You didn’t shrug off her help, rather leaned into it, and pulled her in close when she dared to try and step away. You dropped your head onto her shoulder, feeling a desperate need to have her close. And again if she minded, she didn’t show it. 

“I want cereal.” You decided, knowing that the women had cheerios shoved in the back of the pantry beside an unopened box of popcorn that you couldn’t quite place who it had been bought for. You didn’t know why they even bothered to buy anything that came in a box, considering in the near year that you had been frequenting the Maximoff residence you hadn’t seen them eat anything that wasn’t made on the stove, but right now it sounded like the perfect source of energy. 

“That’s all?” Wanda frowned, prying your face away from her shoulder and forcing you to look into her eyes. You melted into her touch when she set her gaze on you firmly, pliant and willing in her grip. You hummed, your tongue poking out and swiping at the pad of her thumb that sat within licking distance on your cheeks. “That’s not going away anytime soon, huh?” Wanda laughed softly, pulling her hands away before you could get any bolder. She’d had her suspicions about your oral fixation, something was always in your mouth whether you realized it or not, it was truly only a matter of time before you realized how fun it was to have one of them between your teeth. 

“Please?” You pouted, making puppy eyes at the pantry where the box of cheerios remained hidden. Wanda relented, her green eyes rolling backward into her head. 

“You’re eating dinner tonight, milaya moya.” You merely shrugged at the compromise, simply glad to have gotten your way for now at the very least. She tapped your thigh in warning of her approaching absence, and though you had expected it to come if you wanted your cheerios, a whine still fell from your lips when she pulled away, instantly missing the warmth she provided.  

You’d started to slip down from the counter when Wanda turned back around, only halfway to a pantry before you’d decided she’d been gone long enough. “Stay there, Mommy didn’t tell you that you could move.” The firmness that you had sought for earlier sent a rush of something different through your body hearing it now, but still eager to comply with her demands, you scooted back up onto the counter and tried your best to ignore the lingering ache in your untouched clit. You remembered her promise, remembered how she had so cruelly worked you up and left you dry. You didn’t think you could go another night with the sticky feeling between your thighs. 

“Do you want milk with your cheerios, detka?” Wanda asked, her voice slightly muffled by the walls of the pantry that she had disappeared into. You nodded your head, forgetting that she couldn’t see you, but decided that you would just wait until she reappeared to tell her what you wanted. Words still felt too hard to grasp, and secretly you adored this special treatment that you’d never received before. When Wanda stepped out of the pantry, the familiar yellow box now in her hands, she asked again. “Do you want milk, honey?” 

You nodded softly, pulling at the string of Natasha’s hoodie though you found them rather boring. You let your feet kick against the cabinet doors beneath where you sat, trying to occupy your attention with something other than the need in your core, having a feeling it wouldn’t be satisfied until you got something into your belly. 

It was warm, too warm to be wearing a hoodie but in your foggy mindset and rush to find her, you had forgotten about the fact that you remained only half dressed. You sighed, pulling at the long sleeves until they came to your biceps, but even that couldn’t help you entirely. 

“Words, honey.” Wanda reminded you firmly, and you kicked the cabinets beneath you rather harshly in response. You wanted her close to you, and yet she was standing halfway across the kitchen with her recently freed hands on her hips. The box of cheerios was placed on the island countertop, awaiting your direction of adding milk or a bowl or now. Wanda raised a daring brow, tilting her head to the side in a manner that was admittedly intimidating. “We aren’t going to go through this again, milaya. Do you want your cheerios with milk? Yes or no?” 

“Yes.” You sighed, deflating on the counter as you itched to get down and cling onto her. You couldn’t comprehend the rush of feelings that overwhelmed your brain in the moment, but it felt like every choice you were forced to make only drove you farther and farther from a position of sanity. You wanted her to decide, wanted her to talk you through every process and choice. You were never this needy, never this dependent on somebody else, but the taste of total submission that you had been given was like a drug elementary schools never warned you about tasting. 

“Good girl.” Wanda praised your willingness to comply, already maneuvering around the kitchen to acquire a bowl and the gallon milk from the fridge. You shone beneath her words, a shy smile gracing your lips as you tilted your head down toward your lap and tried to hide the flush on your cheeks. Wanda wasn’t blind to your reaction, but she spared you the embarrassment of knowing you’d been caught. 

“Where’s Natty?” You whispered, suddenly realizing the woman was displaced from the pair of you, which was a rarity if you ever knew one. She had been in the dining room before, but now she was gone and yet her laptop remained on the table, the only object in the room that wasn’t in its perfect place. 

Wanda smiled softly at your concern, a tad surprised it had taken you this long to realize that the Russian was missing. She didn’t let you dwell in that confusion, wanting your mind focused on one thing and one thing only; her. “Pepper faxed her over some files. Nothing you need to worry about, malyshka. Come eat.” 

You wiggled down from the counter with a distinctive delicacy, a stark contrast to the usual faith you put into your ankles. Wanda appreciated your carefulness, smiling at you with unspoken praise that you had no time to hide from before she saw your faintest blush. Unlike every day that had come before this one, Wanda sat down at the island instead of gravitating toward the dining room. You brightened at the prospect of eating here, clamoring into her lap because there was absolutely no chance that you were sitting on your own. It seemed she hadn’t expected you to, because her arm tangled around your waist and her hand found its place on your thigh, dangerously close to where you wanted her most, but still too far away. 

“Mommy promised you a reward, didn’t she?” Wanda hummed, her voice laced with a sultry silkness that would’ve been enough to have you weak in the knees on it’s own, but the deadly combination of her lust and her hot breath fanning across the shell of your ear, which Natasha had discovered was incredibly sensitive, was enough to completely melt your self restraint down to nothing. 

A gasp fell from your lips, your head tilting to the side and allowing her lips all the room she needed to explore your unmarked skin. Your eyes fluttered closed, thoughts of cheerios dissipating. “Mommy.” You pleaded with her, hoping that she would relent in her teasing measures.

Her wet lips trailed down the side neck, and in the same second cold fingers bearing rings more expensive than you could even fathom moved the collar of Natasha’s hoodie out of her way. The caress of her lips didn’t last long, because as quickly as she’d began to suck a hickey on your collar bone that was sure to last at least a couple of days, she pulled away and the fingers still on your right thigh pinched the warm skin experimentally.  “Eat. What Mommy does to your body is none of your concern, little girl.” 

A guttural moan left your lips at her dismission, and although your brain was officially nothing but mush between bones, your trembling hand reached out for the spoon. The first mouthful of cheerios was rewarded by her fingers moving toward your core, the second by a sharp nip at the base of your neck. Every bite was followed by pleasure, and by the sixth, it was getting harder to think about anything other than release. 

The lack of panties between your thighs had made access to your core disturbingly easy, and when you faltered on the seventh bite of cereal, your pulsing clit was pinched harshly between fingers that were still surprisingly cold. Your hips twitched in her lap, your head falling back onto her shoulder as you surrendered to the pleasure the sharp sensation had provided. Wanda hummed, taking your body's reaction into account for a later date. 

“You’re not cumming until you finish eating. I suggest you keep going unless you want to find out how cruel I can be, malyshka.” It wasn’t a threat, but rather a promise, and you whimpered pathetically at the sharp bite to her words that satisfied every craving in your body. 

“Mommy.” You pleaded when a single one of her deliciously slender fingers threatened to penetrate your weeping hole, toying with the wetness that had already dampened the pajama shorts on your hips. 

“Shh, Mommy’s playing.” Wanda redirected your attention to the bowl of cereal that had become soggy in the minutes it had taken you to even make the smallest dent. You swallowed down a cry of frustration at her unwillingness to fold, but raised the spoon to your lips and forced your mouth to comply with her demands. 

Every bite felt heavy and horrible against your tongue, but you somehow managed to persevere, even as her fingers wandered beneath the thick fabric of the hoodie and sought out to find your nipples that had been ignored thus far. At the first brush of her metal rings against your flushed skin you gasped, thankful that you had held off on taking another bite of your lunch because otherwise you would have choked. 

“Such pretty sounds, milaya.” Wanda cooed, her lips back against the shell of your ear. Her tongue dared to lick at the skin of your neck, a stream of cold air sending shivers and shocks of pleasure shooting down your spine. “Do you like it when Mommy touches you? Huh? Do you like it when I play with this desperate little pussy however I please?” 

“Please.” You writhed in pleasure, your eyes screwed shut impossibly tight. The single finger buried deep within your walls had quickly become two, and they curled against your softest spot with accuracy that should’ve concerned you had you been any more coherent than you were. Her pace was teasing, slow and unfulfilling, but that was entirely the point. “M-Mommy please!” 

“Mommy’s not going to tell you no again. Little girls don’t get to make decisions. Little girls wait for Mommy to give them permission, and until she does so, they take what they’re offered.” You cried out in painful pleasure when Wanda sadistically twisted your nipple between her fingers, the sensation shooting right down to your core that wept around her fingers and squeezed them tight. “You can do that, can’t you? Be good for Mommy? Or are you just a dumb little baby?” 

“I-I can! I can!” Despite the desperate need for more of anything she was willing to give you, your body tried pleadingly to arch away from her touch when your nipples became too sensitive to handle the sting she caused unforgivingly. 

“How do you want Mommy to make you cum? With my fingers, or maybe my mouth? Do you want me to fuck this slutty cunt with a strap-on, are is that too much for my little baby to handle? Oh I bet you're so sensitive, kotenok. Nobody’s ever denied this pretty pussy before, have they?” Wanda’s fingers pointedly avoided your clit, and you're absolutely certain that one accidental touch would have you falling over the edge and into blinding pleasure. 

“No!” You sobbed in frustration, your hips meeting her thrusts and she let you, knowing nothing she did would send you over that sought after edge until she let her fingers brush against your pulsing bundle of nerves. She had you right where she wanted you, right where you needed to be, even if you hadn’t realized this was the treatment you’d been wanting just yet. 

“Oh, my poor girl. You still have so much to learn.” Wanda cooed though her sympathy was anything but genuine. You pushed the bowl away from you, shaking your head desperately, just needing her to take care of you. “You did so good.” Wanda kissed the side of your head, but her actions contradicted the praise she had fleetingly bestowed upon you. Her fingers left your aching core, effectively edging you as if that had been her goal all along. She smears strings of your arousal against the insides of your sensitive thighs, drying her fingers on your skin. You cried out at the loss of pleasure, desperately grabbing her wrist and attempting to draw it back closer, but she didn’t allow you to win. “I’m not taking you in the kitchen, milaya. You deserve better than that.” 

She guided you to your feet easily, a firm hand on your back the only thing that kept you upright when your knees threatened to buckle beneath your full weight. You grabbed at her hand desperately, wanting to keep her close as she led you through the house and up the stairs. Throughout the journey, her lips had found entertainment in seeking out soft spots on your neck that had been otherwise neglected in the kitchen. A shaky moan fell from off the tip of your tongue when her teeth nipped at the edge of your jaw, and in that moment you had forgotten how to walk as you stood stock still and stiff as a board in the middle of the stairs, leaning backward into her touch pleading for more.

“Keep going. Mommy will take care of you soon.” Wanda coaxed, and desperate to listen, you complied with the request, hoping that this time around, soon actually meant what it was supposed to. 

When you passed by Natasha’s office, where you suspected the woman had migrated to work on the files that Pepper had sent over, the door was closed and light peaked out from the cracks between floor and white oak. You barely had time to pout about her absence before Wanda was pulling you in the direction of the bedroom, simultaneously making quick work of getting you free of the clothes that you drowned in so cutely. Though Natasha wasn’t much taller than you, the woman had a bad habit of buying clothes three sizes too big if they weren’t going to be worn with the intention of maintaining professional appearances. Despite how you had grown to be too hot in the hoodie that covered your torso, the initial absence of it had caused a rush of cold to assault your spine and you shivered beneath Wanda’s heavy hands. Your shorts were the last thing to fall to the floor in a heap. 

“So pretty, malyskha.” Wanda praised your fully naked body, running a single feather light touch down the front of you, starting just below your chin, down between the valley of your breasts, and stopped only just before your throbbing clit begging for release. You gasped and moaned at the ticklish sensations she so easily provoked, chasing her touch when it vanished too quickly. “So responsive too. Mommy’s going to have so much fun playing with you.” 

“Please!” You sobbed, wide eyes filled with desperation and need that only she could quench. Your hands trembling with lust and pent up frustration pulled at the hem of the old t-shirt adorning her body, attempting to get rid of it the same way she had done for you. 

Complying with your request, not willing to sacrifice her own desperation to fully get her hands on you any longer then she already had, Wanda stripped out of her shorts and t-shirt with ease. One too many office quickies with Natasha had forced her to become sufficient with the act of undressing, and the skills, though rusty from lack of recent use, hadn’t failed her now despite the months it had been since she’d last taken her insatiable wife on the couch in her corporate office. When she was naked, every inch of her skin available for your eyes to admire for the very first time, she leaned in to meet your lips with a kiss that was softer than she had been all day. The single action had eased your anxious thoughts, and you leaned into the embrace just as easily as she had. 

When her lips separated from yours, swollen and pink and wet with your saliva, her hand reached up to grab your chin and force your eyes on hers. “I expect you to use your safewords if you need to. This is not about me, this is about you. Do you understand me, milaya?” 

“Yes.” You breathed out desperately, your hands settling on her hips, pulling them closer when you felt like she was too far away. 

“Good. Get on the bed.” She grinned sadistically down at you, taking full advantage of the few inches she had over you. There was something dark in her eyes, something you had only gotten the shortest glimpse of last night, and you swallowed thickly as the promise of feeling her touch on your body for hours after this moment ended, but you complied with her request just as quickly as it came. There was no way you were going to go against her now, not when she had so carefully unraveled your brain and you were finally on the cusp of getting what you had long since sought after and been promised. 

You scrambled onto the center of the bed the Sokovian shared every night with the Russian, laying flush on your back with your elbows propping up your torso. Your eyes trailed Wanda’s every movement as she disappeared into the closet without a single spoken word, but knowing what lies within the four walls of the walk-in, you could only anticipate what she returned with. Desperately you rubbed your thighs together, gathering that she wouldn’t take kindly to your hand relieving the ache she created and single-handedly wanted to soothe. It hadn’t been more than three minutes before she returned, and you noted that between her legs was the presence of something pink. Her hands carried the cooling lotion she’d used last night, and the red strap-on that Natasha had pounded you with weeks ago in her office. A stuttered moan filled the quiet of the master bedroom, and ever so seductively Wanda crawled over your body on the bed, close enough for her nipples to drag against your skin, but far enough away for her lips to ghost over yours. 

“Have you decided how you want me to use you, dorogaya?” She laid her accent on thicker than you had ever heard, straddling your hips as her arms sat on either side of your head, trapping you beneath her. 

You nodded frantically, forcing your eyes to stay locked on hers, wanting to remember every inch of her face in this moment in case it was the only time you’d see it. “I want– I want your mouth. A-and your fingers.” 

“Both?” Wanda teased, her eyes glowing with dominance. “What a greedy girl. I suppose I can give you both, but it won’t come without a price. Are you willing to pay, milaya?”  

You nodded your head frantically, desperate to give her whatever she wanted from you. That seemed to please Wanda, who smirked down at you before her lips ghosted over your lips and trailed down your neck that craned instantaneously in response. Her tongue licked a bold stripe over the center of your neck, and just when you’d anticipated her to keep moving lower, she trailed back up again. This was the price, you realized quickly. She was going to tease you until you broke completely, and there was nothing you could do about it, nothing you wanted to do about it. 

Her teeth nipped and bit at your skin that had been dampened by her tongue, but she made no efforts to mark you entirely. She wasn’t interested in wasting time on leaving hickeys that would fade in days, much rather devoting her efforts and energy into making you squirm beneath her with sensations that were intense, but not strong enough to cause real pleasure. Your clit throbbed in tune with her ministrations, your entrance pulse at the emptiness. It was only when you’d started to grow accustomed to the feeling of her tongue lapping at your neck did she move lower, plush lips wrapping around your nipple and creating a ruthless seal of suction. Your back arched into her, your fingers that had been fisting the comforter shot toward her back, and blunt nails that had been bitten down to numbs scratched mercilessly at her skin. 

Wanda hummed in satisfaction at your reaction, her teeth tugging at your sensitive bud between her lips while her fingers worked on your other. She pulled teasingly, pinched evilly, and twisted when you just didn’t seem to be enjoying it as much as she wanted you to. Her goal was to have you screaming, crying out for a god that she didn’t believe to exist. There was no god in the master bedroom of the Maximoff residence, only a Sokovian lawyer consumed by nearly a year's worth of pent up lust and frustration. When she was satisfied that she had punished your right nipple enough for the time being, not wanting to cause you an exceeding amount of pain though there didn’t even seem to be a glimpse of it on your scrunched up and sweaty face, she moved her mouth to the left, and replaced what was lost by cruel fingers. 

“I wonder how long it would take for you to cum from just this.” Wanda released your nipple with a pop, speaking softly into the silence that was only attempted to be filled by the low buzz of the vibrator between her legs and your moans of intense pleasure. “Mommy’ll have to test that one day.” 

Unable to handle her teasing for another minute longer, you sobbed out in desperate need for something more, and the fingers that had successfully marked angry red lines into the once untouched skin of her back moved up to grab handfuls of her auburn hair. “Please. P-Please. Please. I need y-your mouth. I need– I need– Mommy, pozhaluysta!” 

Wanda froze at the trace of Russian that fell from your lips in a desperate attempt to persuade her into folding before she was willing. She hated to admit that it worked, and that before you could even continue to beg for mercy, her lips were kissing a wet trail down your belly until they fell firmly around your clit. A broad stripe was licked across your core, wetness collected on the tip of her tongue that she swallowed down with a needy moan of her own. A single hand reached between her legs and increased the speed of the vibrator that had been set at a teasing pace since she’d first grabbed it in the closet. 

“Okay baby. Okay. Let Mommy take care of you, no more teasing. We're all done with that.” She cooed, not giving you a single second to doubt her promise before her fingers were falling into your glistening folds just as easily as they had in the kitchen. You gasped at the initial stretch of two cold digits working you open, but her mouth distracted you when she took your clit between her teeth and tauntingly bit at your pleading bundle of nerves. The fingers coiled around strands of pin straight dyed hair pulled her closer, and your hips had adopted a mind of their own as you rocked against her face with a feverish need. Curses and moans tumbled past your lips in incoherent bundles, and just as she felt your walls clenching around her curled up fingers with the telltale indication of an approaching orgasm, the vibrator between her legs brought her to the same pace. “Hold it. Hold it for Mommy, baby.” 

You shook your head, fingers pulling her head even closer. “I can’t! Can’t, Mommy! C-Can’t.” The movements of your hips had become jerky and unpredictable, but before you could hurt yourself or her, Wanda’s hand that wasn’t buried between your legs forced you still and compliant. “I-I’m gonna– Mommy!”

“Cum for me, malyshka. Make a mess all over Mommy’s face.” Wanda’s words of encouragement thrummed against your clit, and with permission to finally unravel beneath her hands, you let the coil burning in your lower belly snap with a blinding white rush of pleasure. Her fingers didn’t stop until you were trying to push them away, and even once they left her tongue remained. Your exhausted body writhed beneath the too intense to bare pleasure, and your whines of sensitivity mixed with hers. You were actively aware of how she was moaning against your core, her hot breath an additional sensation that was quick to make you overly stimulated despite how long you’d sought for this. Her hips grinded against the blankets between her thighs, but they came to a stuttering stop seconds after your own hips tensed and stilled on their own accord. Despite her own end of pleasure, fingers sticky with your arousal pulling the toy out from her own entrance, her tongue was relentless against yours. “Shhh, let Mommy clean you up.” 

“Too much!” You cried out, going limp beneath her wandering hands, but she didn’t let up, and that coil had formed again quickly in combination with her double-downed efforts and your existing sensitivity. Wanda remained dutiful, and her tongue was undoubtedly skilled as she pulled yet another orgasm from you in a matter of minutes. This time, she did pull away, leaving a single soft kiss against your abused clit before the touch was completely gone. 

“You did so good for me, moya lyubov’. Mommy’s so proud of you.” Wanda peppered your face with kisses, touching every inch of available skin with her lips drenched in cum. You giggled at the sensation, pushing her away when your cheeks began to ache from smiling so hard. She fell onto her side beside you in the bed, arms looping around your waist and pulling you into her chest firmly. Her fingers dug into your hips, keeping you flush against her front, and the words she let meet your ears had melted your heart in seconds. “My girl.” 

“Mmm.” You sighed contently, snuggling into her with no intentions of moving away anytime soon. “Hi.” You looked up into her eyes, a drunken smile pulling the corners of your lips upward. 

“Hi, sweetheart.” Wanda giggled, taking your face into her hands and pressing a sweet kiss to the crease between your eyebrows. “What’s that thinking face for?” 

You shook your head, humming softly as you further melted into the soft bed beneath you. When her hands trailed away from where they cupped your cheeks, you took one of them between your own hands, spinning the rings adorning her fingers around her knuckles. “Not thinking. Just… happy.” 

Wanda smiled, rubbing the pad of her thumb across the only expanse of your palm that she could reach with the way you were grasping her hand so possessively. “Yeah? I’m glad you’re happy, sweetheart. I’m happy too.” 

“Your bed is comfy.” You grinned at her, bringing your fingers up to trace across her lips that had kissed every inch of your skin so intimately and passionately. You shrieked in laughter when she snapped her teeth at you, just barely catching the tip of your finger before you pulled it protectively into your chest. 

“I never would’ve guessed you find my bed comfy, little one.” Wanda teased, because obviously she knew that you did. You weren’t subtle with the ways you all but threw yourself into it whenever you were given the chance. Her sage eyes trailed behind you when she saw the slightest shift of light beneath the closed door, a shadow unwilling to enter looming behind it. “Stop hovering and just come in, Natalia.” Wanda called out to her wife, though her eyes briefly flickered down to your face when your teeth found a place around her fingers in the handful of seconds that she had been distracted. Wanda only shook her head in amusement, overly fond of your new habit. 

“Well if this isn’t my new favorite sight.” Natasha smirked her eyes trailing over both naked bodies in the center of her bed. Setting two bottles of chilled water down on her nightstand before she let her weight shift the bed, there was a silent conversation shared between the two lawyers with nothing more than eye contact and inclines of heads. Natasha’s hand brushed strands of hair away from your face that was practically smothered into Wanda’s naked chest, and she rolled her eyes adoringly when she found that you were chewing on her wife’s fingers like a puppy. “Still feeling kinda floaty, detka?” The Russian hummed, easing her body down against the headboard so that she didn’t have to remain kneeling beside you. 

Unwillingly to let Wanda’s fingers fall from your mouth, you mumbled around them carefully, not wanting to accidentally hurt her and lose this new privilege. “No.” 

“You wanna let Daddy put some more lotion on you then? It’s looking kinda red, moya lyubov’.” Natasha’s fingers tangled into the baby hairs at the nape of your neck, and she pulled at them tenderly the way she knows you like when you need a minute to decompress but don’t want to be alone. A quiet sigh slips past your lips, but it’s muffled by Wanda’s fingers before either one of them have the chance to hear it fully, though they’ve grown quite used to your muffled words and sounds seeing as half the strings on their hoodie are marked with indents of your teeth. The Sokovian teasingly wiggles the digits against your tongue, only to be met with you biting down on them in an attempt to get her to stop teasing you. 

“No biting.” She reprimands, though the sharp sensation hadn’t hurt her. You amend the mistake with a well intended suckle, shuffling even closer to her chest until the swell of her breasts blocked out the impeding sunlight. “Come here, baby.” Wanda gently coaxed you fully on top of her body, your sensitive chests pressing together in a way that makes you whine. “You’re sensitive, I know. But, Daddy’s going to put some more lotion on your ass. We don’t want it to really start hurting.” 

When Natasha first laid her hands on your ass, the cooling lotion significantly colder than you had been expecting had caused your entire body to stiffen. Your teeth nervously gnawed at Wanda’s fingers, your tongue flicking across the band of her engagement ring. Her soft assurances calmed you effectively, and with reassurances of it being just Natty that touched and her hands would warm up soon, you began to relax into the sensation.

When the Russian was done, she left a lingering kiss to the end of your spine, her lips trailing up the dip in your back until she pressed them against your shoulder blades. “Good girl.” Natasha praised you promisingly before she fell flush against the mattress and let herself sink in beside you and Wanda, her files forgotten about for the foreseeable future.

Ona vse yeshche daleko vnizu, da? — she's still pretty far down, huh?

 Da, ty poydesh' za odnoy iz svoikh tolstovok? V obozrimom budushchem ya budu zapert zdes'. — yeah, will you go get one of your hoodies? i'll be trapped here for the foreseeable future.

pozhaluysta — please

[cryinggirlnamedhelen]

but baby i; don’t wanna say goodbye

synopsis ; you always knew that saying goodbye to the one you loved most was just a part of life, but you never thought that it would happen to you so early.

cw ; it’s a surprise🫶 (gn!reader)

a/n: can you notice all of the small little details and references in here relating to rin? i’ll give the answer key after the fic ends!🤭

@ohagiyo @yorubl1d3 @x3nafix @megumismyhusband @levihanmyotp @whoagi @ohagiyoo @irreversiblyguilty have fun, smile, and relax💕 fluff ahead😌

you've always wondered how dying felt like.

would it be fleeting and painless, only feeling numbness fill your limbs and torso? would it be excruciatingly painful, as if your body were being teared apart in your last few moments? or would you be completely unfeeling, only the sensation of your soul leaving your body as you spend your last seven minutes reliving your loveliest memories, being in your most vulnerable moments with your loved ones?

you hoped that when you died, you’d experience the third option. the one where it was painless tranquility and the soft cradling of love and warmth. the second option seemed like the worst one for you, living and dying painfully. but you didn’t want to rush through life just to see which of the three options—or even more—it would end up being. you wanted to enjoy your life, for you would only be able to live for a hundred years max, most likely even less.

you expected to perhaps live until your seventies or eighties, married to your best friend and crush rin, maybe with a few kids and grandkids, having lived a fairly peaceful and healthy life. maybe graduating from a good college and reaching your peak in your twenties and thirties before working less and spending more time peacefully at home while rin became a professional soccer player. yes, that was the perfect life for you.

so the current predicament that you were in really shouldn’t be happening, right? you were only sixteen. this doesn’t make any sense. you shouldn’t be here; you should be at school right now, teasing and bickering with rin for a bit before making fun of him for not knowing how to solve a function in math. but no, right now, you were lying in the middle of the road, and no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t seem to get up or even move.

your head felt as if it were being cracked open, and your vision was slowly darkening. you heard muffled screaming and yelling from all around you, and a strange liquid was sliding ever so slowly down your face. there was a salty liquid in your mouth that was finally something you recognized—blood. you would accidentally swallow it whenever you had a nosebleed. your whole body was burning with white hot pain, before you went numb. you couldn’t even feel the obsidian road underneath the you, cool from the september chill.

finally, through your now blurry vision, you could see red and blue lights flashing in your lights. you wanted to raise your hand to shield your eyes; the lights were too damn bright for 8 AM in the morning. but still, your arm refused to cooperate and move. slowly, as your darkening vision began to black out, you could hear a few more muffled voices. “get them onto the stretcher! hurry! this is a high school student from the school nearby!”

you heard a man crying and apologizing profusely, saying that he was running late for work and didn’t see you. but his voice was so blurred in your ears that you had to piece together the syllables and context of the situation in order to make out what he was saying. sirens rang in your ears, as if it were piercing your brain with thousands of needles. and finally, with as much strength as you could muster, you muttered something.

“mom. dad. rin…”

your vision went black.

dear parents and students of kamakura high school,

it is truly unfortunate to announce this, and on such a casual day as well. but a student of ours, (y/n) (l/n) passed away this morning when they were walking to school. a driver of age 32, a man named tanaka takashi, had been driving to work and didn’t see them walking. they were rushed to the hospital, but they couldn’t make it.

they were a beloved student, who was kind and clever, and always helping others. they were likable and always someone who students could trust and smile around, and we hope that they will be able to rest in peace.

rin could feel bile rising up his stomach and throat, nausea filling every inch of his body with hopelessness. he was drenched in a cold sweat, skin white as paper, eyes still red from crying, and cheeks still wet from the tears. he sat next to your hospital bed, a vase of aster on your hospital night stand. he knew that something was wrong when you weren’t at school and didn’t even text him where you were in the morning, but he would have never expected this.

hehatedthishehatedthishehatedthishehatedthishehatedthis—

the nurses watched, unable to console a grieving teenager. he only kept on repeating your name over and over again like a prayer, as if you would come back to him with a smile if he just said your name enough times, revealing yet another one of your stupid yet entertaining pranks. but you never did, not after saying your name the same amount as your favorite number, not after counting to the month and day that you had both first met, not even after counting to the month and day of your birthday.

eventually, perhaps out of exhaustion from crying and not eating for the whole day, rin fell asleep on your hospital bed, even if your body had already been removed to prepare for the funeral. he still wanted to spend just a little more time with anything about you, even if it was your hospital clothes and hospital bed that was used by a dead person—you. but it seemed almost impossible; the fact that you were dead was impossible.

this whole day, you had been floating around kamakura.

well, at least, this whole day after you died. a strange messenger told you that they (he wouldn’t specify who) had sensed that you wouldn’t be able to move on peacefully without a proper goodbye, and gave you until the end of the day to say goodbye to everyone that you wanted. after that, they would send you to the afterlife. so you took this opportunity to your advantage, revisiting all of your favorite childhood stores and locations.

a traditional japanese restaurant that was known for it’s amazing ochazuke. a theater near your house that was playing the shining. the ice cream shop that sold your favorite type of lottery ice cream. the beach that you used to always watch the ocean with rin and sae at when you were kids. your home, where you said goodbye to your family one last time, and attempted your best at hugging them despite being a ghost. and finally, one last stop.

the hospital.

it wasn’t a particularly special or meaningful place to you, but it had a particularly special person to you inside. rin was inside, slumbering not-so-peacefully. he was twitching, and muttering something every once in a while. he was crying in his sleep, a few sniffles from his nose every few moments. an owl swooped past you as you entered through the window, phasing through the glass and curtains.

your eyes softened as you floated next to him, trying to touch him but only passing your arm right through his shoulder and neck. you sighed, just watching him for a few minutes as the clock slowly ticked towards midnight, indicating when you must take your leave. tick, tick, tick, tick, tick…five minutes left.

rin tried to control what he dreamt of that night, but he was only human. he could only helplessly dream of that snowy night, when sae had turned his back on rin and left. but as rin chased after sae, begging for him to come back and chase after their dream together once more, sae’s back slowly turned to yours, and you began to walk away from him.

please, come back. rin screamed; but suddenly, he slipped, and you walked too far for him to reach anymore. chest tightening in agony, rin could only lie there and sob. both of the people he loved most in his life just left him within a few months. why was fate so cruel? why did the world hate him so much?

watching his withdrawn expression, you did your best attempt at sitting down as you began to spill your last thoughts on earth to rin. perhaps your voice could coax him?

“you know, rin,” you hummed. “this is supposed to be some heart wrenching, tear jerking speech. the ones that everyone cries to in the movies. but i know i’ll just end up sounding like those people who try to sound wise but only end up sounding like pre-schoolers, so bear with me, alright?”

tick. four minutes left.

“when i first met you, i thought you were the most annoying, absolutely pathetic person i had ever met. i mean, what six year old only did nothing but follow his brother around all day? but then you had bought me that lottery ice cream that i didn’t have enough allowance to buy, and i was smitten with you from that day on.”

“i stuck with you, only falling more and more in love with you day by day. i wanted to confess to you a lot of times. once when we were ten and we were partners for that science project about the solar system and you refused to let me use any of my allowance on the materials and we only used your allowance. once when we were thirteen and we won junior high nationals. and once every day after that. but i never got the chance.”

tick. three minutes left.

“when i first began floating around as a ghost just earlier today, i was just regretting that you could never hear me confessing to you and that i could never confirm whether or not you actually liked me back or not. but now that i look at it, you probably did. i mean, you never allow anyone else to hug you.”

you sighed, pouting. “but man, i have to miss out on so many things! i never got to see hunter x hunter come back from it’s hiatus, i never got to see one piece end, i never got to see squid games season 3, and i never got to watch you win the world cup. isn’t the world so damn unfair?”

tick. two minutes left.

“i want to be the noble and mature one here. the one who will say ‘please don’t get hung up over me, your happiness is my happiness’ stuff. but i can’t bring myself to say it; seeing you with someone else or even thinking about it makes me mad and even a little sad. honestly, i know i sound like a pick me, but stay hung up on me for at least a decade or two, alright?”

tick. one minute left.

“rin, it was the greatest blessing ever given to me to be able to know you and love you. i think i was unbelievably lucky to have met you and to have been able to know you.”

“rin, i love you.”

thirty seconds remaining.

and finally, you leaned in, trying to adjust with your touch-through body, and finally, your lips met his—somewhat, considering how you couldn’t really kiss him in the traditional sense, although your lips were as close as touching as possible, so a win is a win—and you finally kissed him. after ten years, you finally mustered up the courage to kiss him.

“see you later, rin.”

tick. zero seconds left.

ahhhhhh so you made it this far, congratulations! if you read the author’s note at the beginning, then you must have been keeping track of the references and little details, right? you haven’t? well sucks to be you because im giving them out anyways!

the title - a lyric from billie eilish’s song “birds of a feather”

“you couldn’t even feel the obsidian road underneath the you, cool from the september chill” (paragraph 6) - rin’s birthday is in september, his favorite season is autumn, and he likes chilly weather

“a vase of aster on your hospital night stand” - aster is rin’s birth flower, as he is born september 9th and aster is the birth flower for the month of september

there are five ticks in the hospital scene - rin has five underlashes on each eye

reader visits five locations as a ghost - same as the previous one, rin has five underlashes on each eye

reader visits an ochazuke shop, a movie theater playing the shining, and an owl flies past them while they are entering the hospital - ochazuke is rin’s favorite food, the shining is rin’s favorite movie, and owls are rin’s favorite animals

reader has known rin (and sae) for 10 years - 10 is the jersey number of rin and sae during the u20 arc

hxh, one piece, and squid games all have direct mentions

“i was unbelievably lucky to have met you and to have been able to know you” (paragraph 37) - inspired by juvia’s speech to gray in fairy tail

much of the hospital and ending kiss - inspired by orihime’s speech to ichigo in bleach

“stay hung up on me for at least a decade or two” (paragraph 35) - eren’s words about mikasa to armin to aot (the scene where armin calls eren pathetic)

“see you later, rin” (paragraph 42) - reference to “see you later, eren” from aot. honestly, a lot of this whole thing was written with eremika in mind because rin is confirmed to be what the child of eren and mikasa would look like if they ever had one because yusuke nomura (the artist of bllk) was once the art assistant of isayama (the artist and writer of aot). which is funny because i have very mixed feelings on eremika.

this whole fanfic - inspired by keiko and yusuke from yyh (the early episodes of yyh when yusuke was still trying to come back to life, before all the spirit detective shenanigans)

this fic having 42 paragraphs - ok, now this is going to be some amazing yap. in east asian mythology (i believe it’s just japanese and chinese, but correct me if im wrong) there is a festival on the 7th day of the 7th month in the lunar calendar to celebrate the myth of two ancient lovers who were separated by the gods. they were only allowed to meet once a year because the gods pitied them. in japanese, this is called tanabata, and in chinese, this is called qixi. this is just like how the afterlife pitied (y/n) and allowed them to meet those who they loved most for one last time before they would officially pass. also, 7 is “nana” in japanese, and the nana anime is basically about two lesbian lovers who were doomed to fail…imo. (y/n) met rin when they were 6, and 6 times 7 = 42, so 42 paragraphs.

yes, this was all planned out. yes, im tired asf.

also side note : i tried to keep this as religion free as possible, because i understand that people have different religions! i myself am an atheist, but i also want to respect all religions. i didn’t want to exclude anyone from this fanfic, so i just used the logic and mythology from the yu yu hakusho manga (the one that this fic is based off of) instead of traditional religious beliefs. im deeply sorry if i offended anyone or accidentally mentioned something that might be rude to a certain religion, because i had no intention to.

[leonkennedybreedingkink]

I MUST BE SPOILED AND ROTTEN (CAUSE NO ONE ELSE WOULD EVER DO)

real dad!leon x fem reader

warnings: father-daughter incest. could perhaps be read as a sequel for too close for comfort. daddy kink. also more nicole dollanganger, this is a little more directly inspired by uncle. pussy smacking, d/s dynamics, established relationship. title taken from spoiled and rotten by darling violetta.

Summer is blisteringly hot. It’s been nothing but eighties and nineties and humidity. It doesn’t even have the decency to cool the hell down at night. Your box fan doesn’t do much for you, the only air conditioner is in the living room.

Which is why you’re awake, staring at the ceiling with a gnawing in your lower stomach.

You get up, clad in dad’s old t-shirt and ruffle socks, and pad down to dad’s room.

The door creaks when it opens, there’s no reprieve from the heat in his room or the hallway.

You slip silently into his room and crawl into bed with him. “Daddy?”

Leon’s up in a moment, strong arms wrapping around you. Government training left its mark all these years later. “What is it, baby?”

“Can’t sleep.” You nuzzle his neck, leaving a kiss over his pulse.

He laughs, voice ragged from sleep, and your stomach flutters as one of his arms unwinds from you and dives into your panties. “Yeah? Think I know why, baby. Want me to make it better?”

You nod, lifting your leg up a little more for him.

Quickly, he withdraws his hand and smacks your pussy hard enough to make you jolt and cry out.

“What do we say?” No change in his inflection, but that’s your daddy.

“Thank you, daddy.” You mumble, rewarded with a kiss to your jaw and his hand gently petting over your stinging clit.

“My poor baby.” Leon coos, nudging your nose with his and leaving a kiss near your mouth as he slowly fumbles with your clit. “Your fingers not doing it for you anymore?”

You shake your head. “No, daddy.” They haven’t since he got inside you that first time, bending you over the kitchen counter while dinner burned on the stove.

Yeah, it was real fun trying to shut up the fire alarm whilst you both were naked from the waist down. Doing the dishes was awful, but that’s his job.

You stiffen up when he pushes two fingers in, no burning stretch because he got you used to three in no time.

When you moan, Dad rewards you with the heel of his palm grinding against your clit. “That’s my sweet girl.” He rests his forehead against yours, then kisses you as you get close, feeding off your moans and the way your walls squeeze his fingers.

Leon withdraws his fingers and gently wipes his hand on your tummy, patting your mound gently and grinning when you giggle. “Is that better?” He wraps an arm around your waist and tugs you over, head in your neck.

“Mhm…” you nod lazily, already nodding off.

One orgasm plus dad’s weight on you equals a good ten hours of sleep.

You shift a little as you stand in front of your mom’s grave, feeling sort of ashamed in some odd way. Would mom be horrified if she was alive? If she knew her husband and kid were doing it on the daily?

Then again, you kinda ceded the kid label the second you let dad get inside you. Maybe that’s why you’re so interested in Twin Peaks, Laura Palmer was her dad’s own daughter-wife.

You lean into dad’s side unconsciously, staring at the headstone and sweating through your t-shirt in the fucking sun.

Later, as you’re cooking for the two of you, dad’s hands slip beneath your shirt, resting on your waist. “You’ve been all weird today, baby.” He sets his chin on top of your head and comes a little closer, fingers drumming on your sides.

He’s like a cat, Leon is. Never shows up when you’re actively showing attention to him and is bothered by it at best, only to turn around and come begging for it when you inevitably fuck off. You’d think he’d sleep at your feet if he could.

You sigh, stirring the noodles around the pan. “It’s complicated.”

Leon sighs too, dropping his head to ghost his mouth over your cheekbone. “So? Talk about it with me. I’ll uncomplicate it for you.”

You stir a little more, staring down at the pan and slowly sweating through your previously clean shirt. You should’ve just thrown this shit in the crockpot and called it a day. “Feel like I’m disrespecting her. Mom.”

His hands freeze; called it.

“Why?” He asks slowly, like he’s trying to interrogate you. Kinda reminds you of when he’d run a full investigation of why there were no leftover pizza slices left. If there are none left and only two people in the house, no dog, then how many graves are you spitting on?

You scoff, trying to pull away, but Leon’s got you cornered against the stove. “Come on, baby.” He goads, wrapping big fucking arms around your middle and pulling you in. “Why?”

You’d look at him as if he grew two heads if you could. “Because she’s my mom. Cause she’s your wife. You fucked her before me.”

He snorts in your ear, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Is that jealousy I hear, baby?”

You growl in annoyance, turning off the heat. “Don’t ‘baby’ me.”

Dad smiles against your face. “You sound just like your mother.” Of course this motherfucker isn’t bothered by it. “Just like her too.” He pats your ass. “In some ways, at least.” A wet kiss on your neck.

You make an unhappy noise, aiming an elbow at his ribs. “Focus, dad, Jesus fucking Christ. You can’t just fuck me every time we have a disagreement.” It’s not really a disagreement, he thinks you’re all in your head again. Got that from mom too.

Dad freezes, then withdraws, turning you to face him with the hands on your sides. “I’m sorry. Promise I’ll be serious.” Leon takes a hand and kisses it, keeping a hold of it like a bridge between you.

You huff, only slightly mollified by him. “You don’t feel… you’re not bothered by it?”

Leon’s eyes study you for a while, brows slowly furrowing. “I love you. Lots and lots, baby. What—“ he holds your hand a little tighter. “what we have, what we do, is only a natural extension of that.”

When you’re silent again, he reels you in, his fish on a line and hook in your cheek. “The royals did that, didn’t they?”

“Yeah, and Prince Phillip was a ghastly looking beast.” You mutter, pressing your ear to his heart. Dad snorts above you.

Hear that? That beats for you. Used to beat for mom, but he got a new one just for his precious girl.

“And Nicholas the second’s son had that blood disorder because of it.” That’s probably not true, but also could be true, who knows.

Divine punishment, like in a One Hundred Years of Solitude when that kid was born with the pig tail after generations of inbreeding. The entire settlement in Venezuela got wiped from the face of the earth for that. Rocks fall, everyone dies.

Lot’s daughters raped him. His wife got turned into a pillar of salt because she looked back after they fled Sodom and the girls never got any comeuppance.

He smooths a palm over your head. “Honey, Alexandra also had the same problem. So did at least two of the daughters.”

“But we don’t know.” You look up at him and frown.

Dad pouts down at you too before kissing you. “Your mom is always in my heart.” He says once he’s pulled away, wiping a bit of his spit from the corner of your mouth. “And so are you. She’d want me to be happy.”

You hold back a snarky comment, only giving him a look. Leon shrugs and straightens up. “Is that all it was, babydoll?”

You nod after a moment and he pats you on the ass again. “Better?”

You suppose so, you’re not really sure.

You feel a little like everyone knows when they look at you. Like Girl, Interrupted when Angelina Jolie looks at Brittany Murphy’s character and tells her everyone knows her dad rapes her, but what they—we—all missed is that she likes it.

Liked. Likes. Same difference, honestly. All that matters is that she—you—liked what her dad did to her. Rape.

God, what if his coworkers found out? Incest is a felony in most states. You and him go in the clinker, and everyone knows what happens in prison showers.

There are some things better kept between family.

Your dad loves you, you know he does. You love him too, even if everyone else is weirded out about it. He needed a relic of mom’s around, and what are you if not that?

Cum is thicker than water, in that sense.