#how’d he get hotter???

[peachsukii]

🌟 Couldn’t help making a quick silly edit for the man of my dreams 🧡💥

[luviestarz]

yoon jeonghan fic recs!

✧ such a flirt ! - @amateurasterism (it’s simple: jeonghan knows he’s a flirt, but didn’t realize you flirting back was the key to breaking him.)

✧ deeper in denial ! - @amateurasterism (if there’s one thing you know about jeonghan, it’s that he’s a tease. what happens when the teasing makes it to soonyoung’s game of spin the bottle?)

✧ MON ANGE ! - @itadorins

✧ KIDULT - @hvae (jeonghan always believed he was never fond of children, especially when he took the job at your daycare. little did he know the child in him was playing hide and seek, finally revealing itself after growing to love the kids. oh, and you too)

✧ mirror mirror - @cheolism (jeonghan asks to roleplay him being jealous and fucks you like the little desperate slut you are)

✧ It's Nice To Have A Friend | yjh x reader - @sluttywoozi (You and Jeonghan have embarked on your fifth annual Best Friends trip, but it's a bit different than usual, considering he made the reservation under Yoon Y/N and told them he was your husband. What's a honeymoon between friends anyway?)

✧ a little attention - @onlymingyus

✧ MY ATTENTION - @slytherinshua

✧ when jeonghan realizes he's in love with you - @wonwoonlight

✧ 𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐒 𝐍𝐀𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐘 ♥︎ - yoon jeonghan ! - @hoshzone (not being able to wait until Jeonghan gets off the phone with Joshua, you decide it’d be a good idea to get yourself off on his thigh. He makes sure you pay for that.)

✧ call me by his name | yoon jeonghan [M] - @sweetlemontart (to you, one of jeonghan's most admirable trait is his candid nature. he's straightforward with most people—if he's angry, they'll definitely know. but with you? he'd rather swim the ocean day and night than take his anger out on you. well, that is, of course, unless you ask him to.)

✧ to live again | yoon jeonghan - @viastro (it’s been years since your last milestone birthday; a time when everything still felt right in the world with youth and ambition. now that you’re older and times have changed, would you dare take a chance to save someone else in the past at the cost of your own future?)

✧ 彡 my heart is beating for two. — yoon jeonghan - @seuonji (daycare worker yn! x secretary jeonghan — you’re a worker at the daycare and of course, your main priority is the safety of the kids. how’d you deal with an unfamiliar face trying to pick up one of the kids one day?)

✧ the long way | yoon jeonghan - @trblsvt (it was just like any other shoot. go in, pose, drink water, don't get food on the clothes, and don't joke around with the staff. easy. except it wasn't that easy.)

✧ — ode to you  - @lovelyhan (if there's one thing you've learned from all the lives you've spent together, it's that jeonghan isn't always someone you'll end up wanting. he can be crass. he can be secretive. he can be nothing short of vexing. but in the end, he's everything you need him to be.)

✧ rain and kisses | yoon jeonghan - @babyleostuff

✧ sharing is caring - yoon jeonghan - @etherealyoungk

✧ lowkey — yoon jeonghan - @chenfleur (Jeonghan's supposed to be on stage in twenty minutes, and he's nowhere to be found.)

✧ our dawn is hotter than day. - @ikigaisvt (in which you and your boyfriend says i love you for the first time surrounded by his friends.)

[joelsmochi]

honey ♡ joel miller

rating: E 18+ only pairing: beekeeper!joel x f!reader summary: joel is obviously beekeeping age warnings: not proofread, no outbreak, best friends dad!joel, soft!joel, unspecified 30+ year age gap, a hint unrealistic in the sense that sarah doesn’t care, lots of bee science, mentions of bees/bee stings (ouch), honey play (i had to), fingering, f receiving oral, kitchen sex, pet names, plenty of dirty talk (mhm yes yum) a/n: i totally didn’t google bee sex for like an hour just to be accurate… nope… no i didn’t. lol enjoy & happy valentines day ;)

series masterlist | main masterlist

“Which eyeshadow should I use?”

You looked at the small, black palette and its array of choices before telling Sarah, “Purple, it goes great with green dresses.”

Sarah began to brush the product onto her eyelids while she talked about her plans for tonight with her boyfriend, Alex; her voice became white noise as you caught a glimpse of her father in the backyard working on something.

“Your dad’s a beekeeper, right?” You asked without realizing you interrupted her.

“Uh… Yeah?”

“Cool… How’d he get into that? Doesn’t seem like the type to… Save bees?”

“What do you mean?” She mumbled beneath her working hand.

Shrugging, you tried to keep your expression and tone neutral. “Aren’t beekeepers usually a bit dorky?”

“My dad is a dork.”

“I mean, not really,” you chuckled, watching the man pull out the different trays and examine them. “It’s cute, your dad keeping bees… How old is he again?”

Sarah only rolled her eyes.

“He’s definitely beekeeping age,” you continued. “Kinda sweet. Him caring for a colony of bees in your backyard.”

Your best friend was now looking at you look at her father—correction: you were ogling him. Your attempts at seeming unbothered by his looks failed. Sarah always said you wore your heart on your forehead sometimes.

You just couldn’t help it; Joel was tall and big and broad and… Older. He wore a tough exterior, one that always intimidated you, but now you see him tending to bees. The man was a softie at heart, not to mention insanely hot.

His skin tanned even deeper from the long hours of being in the sun, and his forehead littered with droplets of sweat. Was it so wrong to think about Joel f—

“Sarah, I wanna fuck your d—“

“Oh, really?”

You shrugged and sat down on her bed. “Can you blame me?! He’s like… Twenty times hotter than the guys our age.”

“He’s also twenty times your age,” she spat.

“Doesn’t he have a brother?” You shamelessly asked.

She scoffed and looked at you in disbelief. “Yeah, who’s married and has three kids.”

You groaned softly. “Bummer.”

“You have a fucking insane sex drive, you know?”

“Ugh, tell me about it,” you whined, “It’s making me masturbate more than I’d like.”

“You know what, if you wanna make the bold attempt to fuck my fifty year old dad then you have my blessing,” she sarcastically told you.

You simply raised an eyebrow and stared at her shit-eating grin, waiting for her to tell you she was joking. “Don’t bullshit me, Sarah, ‘cause you know I will.”

“Ah—la la la la la! I am not—I am not listening to it anymore. Get it out of your system before I take it back.”

You pretended to lock your lips and throw the key away as she got back on her boyfriend, but all you could think about was her dad.

♡

You waited for Sarah’s boyfriend’s car to leave the driveway before shakily fixing your hair and lip gloss, then you walked into the backyard with eyes set on the man and his work.

“Mr. Miller,” you called once you were a few feet away from him.

He looked up for a split second and motioned his head as a greeting, saying your name in response.

“Bees?”

“Yes, ma’am. Somethin’ I can help you with?”

Shrugging, you walked a little closer but kept your distance fearing a bee sting. “Maybe.”

He lifted a panel up and briefly examined it until he noticed the lingering silence. His dark eyes locked with yours and he sensed your hesitation. “You allergic?”

You only shook your head.

“They’re calm if you are.”

I am so not fucking calm right now, you thought.

“C’mere darlin’. I’ll show ya.”

He used his index and middle finger to beckon you, and you instantly fixated on why you were there in the first place.

You made the daring move to take a few more steps, ears coaxed by the hum of the colony.

“They usually only sting if you annoy them, or smell like a flower.”

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t spray floral perfume on my shirt this morning,” you joked.

He almost laughed as the bees didn’t seem to care for you so far. “Honeybees really don’t want to sting you.”

“‘Cause it kills ‘em, right?”

Nodding, Joel says, “Exactly. Their number one goal is to protect the queen. Second is to survive whatever threats they face.”

“How’d you get into this kinda stuff?” You asked.

You were trying to find some way to bring up your question without being sudden or rude, though beekeeping didn’t seem like a helpful topic.

“When Sarah was little she used to get a lot of rashes and she had some bad allergies. That over the counter medicine didn’t help, but honey helped. The natural shit— stuff they sell at the store… Well, it gets expensive. And I didn’t have as good a job as I do now... So I figured I’d give it a go and make my own honey.“

“That’s sweet of you. My dad always had me tough it out,” you chuckled.

“I have plenty stashed away in the kitchen. You’re welcome to take some,” he offered. “Hey, what was it you needed?”

“Oh, uh.” You pursed your lips unsure of whether or not you should lie. “Well, I have this sort of… Itch.”

“Itch? It’s not an STD is it, ‘cause I don’t think honey can help with that.”

You knew it was a deadpan joke but the tension had your face stuck in a scrunch.

“No. Not an STD,” you answered. “I just, uh… I really like you, I guess.”

“I hope so, you’ve been eating up half my groceries for the past twenty somethin’ years.”

Idiot.

“No, I mean…” You realized you wouldn’t be able to ask him. “Never mind, uh. Just forget it.”

He watched you turn and begin walking away before it dawned on him. “Oh!”

You faced him again, scratching your head and giving him a nervous look. “Yeah, like I said: forget it. We can just pretend I never asked—“

“Come here,” he said, adjusting his jeans and walking to the other side of the apiary. “Wanna show ya somethin’.”

You rolled your eyes, fighting your stress response of fleeing the scene and standing beside him again.

“Do you know why bees are so loyal to their queen?” He asked after pulling a panel out to show you.

“Mnh-mnh.”

“The queen is the only bee in the entire hive that can produce more bees. Again, a bee’s second main goal is to preserve the life of their species. The queen produces pheromones that calm the bees down and keep the structure within the colony. Drone bees are male bees that really only exist to mate with the queen when she’s a virgin and out of the hive. Worker bees are females that aren’t the queen, but they’re very nurturing. Especially to the queen because she’s the one in charge.”

“Ahh, a matriarchy. Count me in,” you giggled.

Joel chuckled and pulled a switchblade out of his pocket before forcing the blade to whip out. “Do you know how bees mate?”

His voice sounded a little more quiet, and his eyes met yours with curiosity. You shook your head and waited for him to explain.

“When a new queen is selected, she goes out just one time to find a group of drones who will essentially take her virginity. And drones have an endophallus so after they ejaculate into her, their insides are ripped out and the drone dies. When a new drone comes up to mate with the queen, he removes the last guy’s endophallus and does the same thing. Mate with her… And die. She can mate with about ten or twenty different drones before flying back to the hive and laying eggs.”

“So the drones’ only purpose is to mate with a queen?” You asked.

He began cutting away a small piece of the wax, and the honey trickled down slowly.

“It’s the only reason he lives,” Joel muttered. You watched his thick fingers scoop up the liquid gold and he raised them to your lips. “He waits… And waits… And waits… For the right queen to come along.”

He smirked at your amused expression.

“Are you trying to seduce me by telling me the sexual nature of bees?”

He softly shook his head and glanced at your shiny lips. “Not trying to seduce you. Just tellin’ you what most men really want.”

Exhaling, you tried to ignore his fingers lingering in front of your face. The sickly sweet smell of honey filled your nostrils as his words echoed inside of your head.

“Go on,” he whispered, “have a taste.”

It took you a few extra seconds to build up the confidence in order to take him on his dare, but you made sure you did it as slowly as possible.

Your lips parted and he immediately felt your warm breath flow over his fingers; instinctively, your tongue darted out to catch a drop of the honey before it fell to the ground. Then you wrapped your lips around his digits, softly moaning at the sweet tasting nectar that coated his wood scented fingers.

WIth steady eyes you watch his brown orbs darken with lust, hearing him let out a huff and seeing the muscles in his face relax as if your slick tongue gave him the satisfaction he’d been seeking for a long time.

You swirled your tongue around, persisted to taste every last drop. The thickness coated your throat while you desperately wanted it to be something other than honey.

Your lips left his hand with a wet pop that prompted him to lick whatever saliva and honey remained on his fingers.

“Tastes good.”

“Just good?”

“Tastes delicious,” you corrected.

He let out a soft chuckle and put the wood panel back in its place.

“Sarah know you’re out here?”

After rolling your eyes and smirking you said, “She doesn’t need to know. Actually quite sure she wouldn’t want to know. Besides, Alex just picked her up, so.”

“So we’re all alone,” he finished.

“I’m gonna go get some of that honey you were talking about. Though I might need your help finding the right cabinet.”

He watched you walk back into the house before following you; once inside he saw you reaching into a cabinet in the corner, but a big red bruise on your arm caught his attention.

Joel walked over to you and grabbed your arm. Confused, you tried to see what he was looking at to no avail.

“You got stung right here,” he said as if he read your mind. He started walking over to the correct cabinet.

Frowning, you lifted your arm before spotting the bump. “Weird. Didn’t even feel it.”

“S’normal,” he muttered.

He stepped in front you to lift you up underneath your arms and sit you on top of the kitchen island.

You carefully watched as he opened up a sealed mason jar and stood between your legs.

“Mmkay. Lift your arm up.”

You did as he told and tried not to grimace while he scraped the stinger out. Honestly you didn’t have to try too hard; he looked so good like this, taking good care of you. Focused and confident like he’d done this a million times. You were certain he had.

He dipped a finger into the jar and swiped a little honey over the bump, carefully rubbing it in and drifting his gaze to your eyes.

“Helps the itch,” he spoke. “You said you had one, right?”

“Think I’ve got a bigger itch,” you replied.

“Hmm. Where at?”

Biting your bottom lip you trailed a finger over your neck, finding your sweet spot and rubbing a small circle over it. “Here.”

Joel rubbed a some honey on your neck and lapped it up like a thirsty dog. He held back on sucking the skin, mindful that you might not be fond of hickeys.

“I get it?” His voice strained.

You hummed. “No… No it’s went down a little bit. Tryyy… Here.”

Your clavicle.

More honey. More licking.

“How ‘bout now?”

You took your shirt off revealing your breasts. “Try here, and here.”

Your breath shook when the cold liquid was smeared over your hardened nipples. Once he took the first one into his mouth you let a desperate breath and held the curve of his head in your palm, letting him have his way with your tits.

“Nope, still there,” you spoke once he pulled away.

His fingers found the button on your shorts, then the zipper.

“Damn itches,” he said, “they’re always so damn stubborn. Ain’t that right? S’okay. Think I have a remedy for that.”

Just like that your shorts and panties were off and his fingers scooped up some more honey—more than what was necessary for anything.

He bent down to your glistening pussy and lazily rubbed the honey all over. You’d be lying if you said that alone didn’t make that knot inside of you twist harder.

Joel’s tongue eagerly met your clit, and he didn’t bother wasting anymore time with teasing you. A gurgling moan left his mouth once he tasted your juices mixing with the honey, creating the perfect elixir for his tastebuds.

Your legs clamped around his head reactively but he was strong enough to force them apart and keep them open.

Whilst he sucked and pulled and lapped around your clit, your hands were reaching, searching for anything to grasp. As a result you ended up knocking over the jar and spilling its contents, but you were too dazed to give a fuck.

Somewhat annoyed with you flailing around like you’d never been eaten out before, Joel smacked the back of your thigh. You shuddered and calmed your body down, settling with pulling on his hair relentlessly since the force of his smack stung a little.

He preferred it that way; take your tension out on him. Make him hurt if it meant you felt good. It only stroked his ego.

His tongue slipped between your pussy lips and slurped up whatever it could, the vibrations making you cry out his name. He did it again and again and again and again and a-fucking-gain until he was certain you were screaming from an orgasm.

Joel moaned at your thick cum pouring out of your cunt and down his sticky chin, drinking up anything he wasn’t missing.

He only stopped when he figured you’d had enough and stood eye level with you while fumbling with his belt buckle.

“I think that itch got a little deeper now,” he cockily said, “wouldn’t you say?”

Your eyes were wide, pupils nearly blown, mouth agape, and chest heaving. “I think you can reach it just fine, Joel.”

Holding back a boastful laugh, he lined his erection up with your soft entrance and slid inside carefully.

“So pretty,” he whispered, “you look so fucking pretty like this, baby.”

You pulled his face in for a sloppy kiss, happily tasting the mixture of you and his honey. He noticed your hand was tacky from the spill and stuck a few fingers into his mouth, spreading the stickiness anywhere he could get it.

“Your cock,” you moaned into his chin. “So big.”

“It’s all yours, princess,” he moaned.

His hips pulled back and then snapped back into yours; his tip pressing into the deepest part of your pussy.

“Fuck. You get so fucking deep,” he praised. “S’it feel good, baby?”

“Yes,” you said against your will. “Oh my God, just like tha—fuck!”

Joel fucked you just the way you liked: fast, but not sloppily or too hard. He watched his cock disappear into you a dozen times, and he grew harder than he ever had before.

“You look so pretty with my cock inside. Such a dirty fucking girl,” he shouted over your moans. “You take it so well, baby.”

Joel felt the his orgasm begin to arrive so he pulled out and took a step back; you whined a bit and reached for him but you were already so sore.

Meanwhile he just undressed himself and laid you down on the marble countertop, climbing on top of you not long after.

“I hear you, baby,” he cooed. “You don’t need to beg… I’m gon’ take real good care a’you.”

You lazily smiled and wrapped your legs around his broad waist.

“There you go,” he whispered against your lips as he slid back into you, hearing your whines turn into moans. “There you go, sweetheart. I got you.”

He returned back to his original pace, only his hips thrusted harder into you. You felt every curve and vein along his cock, every inch he gave to you.

Your nails clawed at his back and feet dug into his hips. You reached for him in any way you could. His lips danced with yours as you drank each other’s honey-coated moans.

“Joel, fuck. Oh, Joel I’m gonna cum,” you admitted.

He felt your back arch off of the counter as if your tone was indicating enough.

“I know, baby, I know. You’re doing so well. I got you, I got you. Need you to look at me, darlin’, can you do that? Can ya look at me with those pretty eyes when you cum?”

You struggled to open your eyes, wanting to wilt up at the intensity building inside of you. But once you saw his eyes again you were hooked.

“Good girl,” he chuckled, wearing the proudest grin imaginable. “Doing such a good job, let it out sweetie. You can cum.”

“I’m cu—oh!”

“I know, babygirl. I can feel it. Let it out for me. Let it out for daddy.”

He watched and held you as you writhed from your orgasm; your skin was on fire, stomach fluttering with elation.

Joel loved the sound of your voice calling his name, so precious and shameless. He couldn’t hold back anymore. He didn’t want to. He wanted to make you his own, even if it had to be temporarily.

“Cum inside me,” you breathed out, feeling overstimulated and overstretched. “Need you to—ah.“

He leaned down for another kiss just when he began to cum inside, a feeling so raw and deep he hadn’t felt in years. He forgot how fucking good it felt, and savored it by pushing through every painful bit of the overstimulation.

Joel gave you a few more soft kisses and slowly got off of the island. He ran a hand over your thighs and watched you come down from your high.

“My hair is covered in honey,” you giggled.

“Let’s go wash you up. Maybe we can find a few more itches to scratch.”

[darlingdreadwrites]

Healing Touches

paring: Ticci Toby x GN!Reader

Summary: You wake up and can tell that Toby is sick. He’s infuriatingly stubborn about it.

contains: fluff, sickfic, kissing, cuddling, sick toby, sassy toby

warnings: first fanfic i've ever posted (i apologize in advance), inaccurate portrayal of cipa if that's super important to you (he sweats), mention of making out, swear words, insults used affectionately

word count: 1k+

masterlist

a.n: finally decided to suck it up and post something. i was gonna post a stalker-y riddler fanfic first (i say "stalker-y" and he's literally watching you through your webcam LOL), but i'm just gonna do a fluffy one.

You stir from your slumber and your ears pick up on the deep exhale from the body holding you tightly from behind. You're warmer than how you usually wake up next to Toby. And sweatier. You stretch your back a bit to try and wiggle out of your hunched over position and feel as your shirt sticks to you stubbornly. Gross.

Pulling your outstretched hand from its laid-out position front of you, you use it to shield your eyes as you open them. It’s dark, of course, thanks to the black-out curtains, but it’s a habit you can’t put down. You blinked once, then again and try to wake yourself up enough to care what time it was. Why’d you wake up, anyway? And why were you sweating, most importantly. The scratchy clearing of your still-sleeping boyfriend’s throat seemed to make you suspicious.

You remove the hand pressed to your brow and rest it on top the forearm that tightly encircles your waist. The skin is warm and just a little clammy. Now, you’re no doctor, but you’re 50 percent sure Toby might be sick. You feel his body softly rumble as he lets out a phlegmy, wet cough. Maybe you were 90 percent sure. You rub his arm absentmindedly before grabbing a fistful of the blanket over your bodies. You toss it aside in hopes for cold air to cool both of your bodies. He doesn’t stir, thankfully, since he can’t feel the temperature change.

You rack your brain and try to think of any earlier hints of this sudden ailment until your thoughts stray to other topics. You didn’t even notice that you’d been staring, unblinking, at the wall in front of you until a groan broke the comfortable silence. You feel Toby’s lips against your shoulder blade in a lazy attempt at a kiss.

“Good-good morning,” he mumbles, and you return the sentiment. You wait a few seconds before you make your accusation, already anticipating the reaction.

You shift to your other side to face him, and he grunts in protest. Both of you settle into your new positions. He drapes an arm over your waist again, urging you to come closer. You only nudge his leg with yours since you’re not particularly fond of getting anymore of his sweat on you at the moment.

“How’d you get sick, Tobes?” You ask, half-sweetly, half-accusatory. “You’re always in layers.”

“M’not suh-sick,” he insists, his brows furrowing, and the muscle twitches ever so slightly.

“No?” You push back the hair that sticks to his forehead and press your lips onto his skin. Just to check the temperature, of course. And, Jesus, it was scorching. You could smell the slight tanginess of the sweat on his scalp.

“I don’t-don’t get sssssick.”

“You’re way hotter than usual.”

He snickers at that, “Thanks.”

You should’ve seen that coming, you sigh and suppress an eyeroll.

“I meant that you have a fever, dumbass,” you give him a deadpan expression, though his eyes stay closed.

“Nnnah,” he brushes you off and you can see his jaw clenching involuntarily when he shuts his mouth.

“You’re sick.”

“You’re suh-sick.”

“I might be. Cuz of you.”

Toby’s eyelashes flutter as he opens his eyes, his wide brown ones meet yours. He purses his lips, as if trying to gauge if he really was sick or not. Before he can say some other smartass comment, you lean forward to plant a kiss on his jaw. Your body aches in protest, but you raise yourself using your arm and trail more kisses up the side of his face. He exhales contently through his nose and smiles at your sudden affection. He hums in satisfaction when you finally decide to peck at his lips repeatedly. He closes his eyes and pushes his lips out into a pout as the kisses get slower and longer.

Settling back to rest your head against your pillow, your eyes flick over Toby, and you assess his state. His nose and cheeks are pinker than usual, and you can tell how flushed he is despite the dim lighting.

“D’you want me to get you water? Or make you some soup?” You offer and he opens his eyes only to roll them at you.

“I like you-like you here,” he says stubbornly.

“We can keep cuddling,” you chuckle and press the backs of your fingers against his heated cheek. “But I’m getting you some medicine later.”

“S’fine, I can’t ffffeel any...thing.”

“I don’t care, you could have the plague.”

“You’re dramatic,” he shot back, a sassy lilt in his voice.

“Can I help you?” You ask sarcastically. “Please?”

“Can we not-not just cuh-cuddle?” He uses the same tone you did. “I can’t fuh-feel being sick, so-so it doesn’t m-matter.”

“Toby,” you say dryly before repeating yourself and drawing out the syllables, “Toby.”

“O-kay, okay, Jesus.”

“Good,” you smile and scoot just a little closer to him. He gives you a goofy grin before opening his mouth and letting out a small, playful cough. You can still see the shit-eating grin on his face.

“You’re nasty,” you cringe and scrunch your nose. He lets out a giggle and playfully pinches at the skin of your waist. When you nudge his leg again just a little harder in response, he rubs the spot on your hip to soothe it, and you can feel his hand twitch against it.

“C…an we muh-make out?” He breaks through the wholesome moment, and you purse your lips into a thin line.

“Your breath fuckin’ reeks, my love,” you pause and a subtle smile tugs at the corners of your mouth. “And you’re sick.”

Toby rolls over, mouth falling open to let out a quick, disbelieving chuckle. “I am-am not si-sick.”

Laughing, you lean over to be partially draped over his chest, propping yourself up on your side and giving him a gentle kiss. He slowly lowers his eyelids, and you can feel the heat of his breath against your cheek as both of you surround yourself in the blissful moment.

[the-hopeless-haze]

Worried About You

Chapter 4 of If You Want It, You Can Bleed On Me (House x reader)

“I need Vicodin,” Greg says to you, walking into your office. Well. Your office when you were here. You scowl slightly at the day-old coffee in your line of vision and think about how you’ll be scolded by the other people you share the office with the rest of the week when you inevitably forget that it’s there.

“Funny. I’m not your dealer,” you say.

You and Greg had hit it off, so to speak. Much to everyone’s chagrin and surprise, you continued seeing each other inside and outside the hospital. It wasn’t something either of you spoke about. Psychiatrists (or psychiatric doctors of nursing) are the worst patients and the best repressors. You did what you had to to be able to function like a member of society, but you were as fucked up as the rest of them. And you see Greg is similar. USA-renowned, if not world-renowned, diagnostician—but that was all he had besides a bum leg and a healthy dose of chronic depression and reliance on opiates to function.

When you finally had sex -heterosexual sex, dick in pussy sex - it was a frenzy fueled by alcohol and weeks long of teasing, and you saw glimpses of his leg in the midst of it and he saw the scars scattering your arms, but beyond the “oh, so you tried to kill yourself” he said to you when he edged you on the brink of orgasm the umpteenth time (and oh, boy, was that a mood killer) there were no comments about either.

But he kept you around and you weren’t entirely certain of why. It’s only been a month or so, and he’s not calling you his girlfriend or telling you he loves you, but he’ll still wine and dine you before railing you. And you don’t know if it’s out of obligation, if he feels like even though you’re not a hooker he has to pay you for sex, or if he genuinely enjoys your company. You think about how dissimilar you are to Wilson and how that’s the only person he keeps close. You wonder if maybe you remind him of his live-in ex that you’re almost certain he never got over. It’s a good time though, regardless. You make each other laugh. You both love The Rolling Stones. You begrudgingly agreed to be dragged to a monster truck show one night (“Wilson won’t come with me” he whined) and in return you made him go with you to see a local band perform that he wasn’t the slightest bit interested in.

It was that sacrificing that made you pretty close to a real couple. Wilson pointed it out to you and he no doubt pointed it out to Greg. You made a snarky comment about his marriage and you wonder if you should compare notes with Greg to make sure you’re both not using the same lines.

You don’t know why you keep him around either, so it’s fair. It’s nice to have a fuck buddy, you suppose, and it’s also nice to almost like them as a human being rather than a sex toy. It’s certainly not because you think you can cure him, because you know you can’t. You wanted sex and you didn’t want a rehash. All things considered, he was a thorough lover and cared about getting you off as much as himself, which somewhat surprised you given how selfish he can be in other settings.

It’s not a bad arrangement. At least not right now.

But you’re fucked and you know it. It’s why you were drawn to work with kids in the first place. At least you’d always have a leg up on them. Someone out there thought you were sane enough to be rent an apartment and be a licensed prescriber.

Oh. Speaking of.

“Come on. You have a license to prescribe. Just once,” he begs.

“Yeah. No. I think you’ve got me confused with Wilson.”

“You’re much hotter,” he offers.

“Flattery will get you nowhere.”

“It got you in my bed.”

You smirk, shaking your head. “Yeah. Fair. But that’s as far as it’ll get you. You can be lackadaisical with your license, but I’d like to keep mine until I want to retire.”

“How’d I get with such a goody-two-shoes? Even Wilson will play.”

“He’s not now, apparently. What gives?”

“I bet Cuddy clinic hours that I wouldn’t take Vicodin for a week. They’re all convinced I’m an addict.”

You snort. “Okay. I hate to point it out so bluntly, but this is prime behavior for addiction. Searching all channels to get a fix because you can’t go a week without it?”

He rolls his eyes. “Yeah. Okay. I’m going to do the week. But I need someone on standby. I’m only doing the week, and I don’t know that I’ll be able to get it prescribed afterward.”

“Chronic pain is outside my scope of practice. Best I could do is a suboxone MAT and say I’m detoxing you off Vicodin and keeping your substance use in check, but even that’s pushing it. There’s a conflict of interest.”

“You can’t keep the clinical and the personal separate?”

“Nope. Could you? If I was your patient this week, would you be able to? Bringing your ex-girlfriend into this is what got you into this mess. Don’t bring me in to try to fix it.”

“I’m not asking you to fix it. And you have a medical background. I’m asking you to write the order I’m asking for. I know how to manage my pain.”

“Why don’t you get through this week first? Then maybe you’ll take me up on the suboxone,” you say, crossing your arms.

“You think I’m addicted?”

“Jesus Christ, Greg, you’re smarter than this. You know what happens if you consistently take opiates. I know you need them for pain. I’m not denying that. But to think you’re immune to the side effects? It’s habit-forming. You know this. You’ve been taking it for years. You’re going to have withdrawal symptoms. You should be doing this in a detox facility if anything.”

“I work in a hospital. Opiate withdrawal never killed anyone, anyway,” he says, seeing no point in bluffing to you any longer.

“Maybe not. But you’ll suffer. I’ll meet you halfway, hm?” You say, looking up at him. “I’ll prescribe you comfort meds for the week. Ease you through it. Mirapex, vistaril, zofran, clonidine, bentyl…”

“Most of those aren’t exactly in your scope. If you want to be technical.”

“If I lose my license for any of those the board has far too much time on their hands. But you’re right. I’ll get Chase to sign them off.”

“Chase?”

“He’s the most desperate to get laid out of the three. I bat my eyelashes enough he won’t even question who the scripts are for.”

“Chase? Look at him. If he’s not getting laid none of us should be.”

You scoff. “I guess pretty boys do it for you, but not for me. But no…I can tell. He reeks of desperation.”

“It’s desperation to be liked by authority. Not desperation for pussy. He’s swimming in it.”

“Okay. We’ll see if he folds,” you say, winking.

Greg sighs. “Is this some kind of game?”

“What isn’t, with you? It’s all games, it’s all puzzles.”

“Why Chase?”

“I told you. I know you’d rather me go to Cameron, but unfortunately, I don’t think flirting would get very far with her. Foreman will never fold.”

“You don’t have other doctors you work with you could ask?”

“Greg, it’s just fucking comfort medications that you probably will have too much pride to even touch. Again. Not risking my career for you and letting people that actually respect me think I’m a nutcase because I slept with you.”

“So… you want to fuck Chase. Right?”

“Where in that insecure little man brain did you think of that? It’s your other head, right? I must want the sexy Australian because all the other girls are doing him? Because I want to ask him to prescribe meds? For you?”

He shrugs. “Matter of time. ‘Oh, I had to blow him, that’s the only way I could get him to do this’ or ‘oh, honey, good news, he said if I sleep with him three times a week he’ll prescribe your Vicodin’.”

“Stop with the immature bullshit. If I wanted to fuck him, I’d just leave you, not worry about the meds, and do it. Grow up, Greg,” you mutter, walking away.

“Then why don’t you?” he challenges, hating himself as the words leave his mouth, hating how unattractively juvenile he was coming across. But there were reasons, the need to push you away to see if he would get pulled back, the need to be contrary, the need to know. Know what, exactly, he’s not sure.

He already knows he’s in for one of the worst weeks of his life. Even if the withdrawal symptoms are mild, he’s going to be in terrible, unmanageable pain, and all the Tylenol and Motrin in the world aren’t going to even come close to touching it. And he’s going to be more miserable than usual. No pain relief. No euphoria from the high when he takes just one… or two… or three extra than he needs. He knows he’s addicted. He tries to roll it off his back, saying it doesn’t matter, it shouldn’t change perceptions of him, it’s something he needs for pain, and it doesn’t affect his ability to practice medicine.

But sometimes he’s afraid. When James looks at him in concern but doesn’t offer any solutions because there aren’t any real ones, are there? He needs opiates for pain. Nothing else will work. Whether it’s pure heroin or your gold-standard synthetic hippy bullshit medication-assisted treatment… it’s still an opiate. Naloxone embedded in the pill or not. Having to go to a clinic to get dosed and having to have checks and balances on his use or not. It’s still an opiate. There’s still a stigma. It still pinpoints his pupils, lowers his respiratory rate, and hopefully, hopefully, takes the edge off so he can function but he knows. Addiction isn’t his specialty, he never wanted it to be, but he knows. One day it’ll be his last Vicodin, or the Vicodin won’t work anymore, and hey, you know what’s instantaneous? Spinal morphine. Can only use that card once or twice, have to tell Wilson he’s in excruciating pain and guilt him into enabling. He’ll only go so far. And then…well, then it’s IV heroin or fentanyl, whichever is easier to get, whichever is cheaper.

Greg knows that addiction treatment centers are revolving doors. He knows that you saw the same people back and forth and back and forth sign in and sign out, sign in and sign out. Change their medication plans a million times. And some of them still died anyway.

He’s afraid. He’s afraid of dying by his own hand by accident, alone and blue, nodding off forever. Sometimes he wishes for it, an end to the pain, but he also doesn’t want people to find him like that. A predictable end to a predictable story. World-renowned diagnostician died the same way a poor broke junkie did on the streets. Hooked on drugs, overshot it.

And it’s not that he thinks he’s better than those people. He knows he is those people. Even prior to his disability he dabbled in drugs, never enough to create a habit but enough to definitely indicate the potential of a problem. He’d tried almost every illicit substance “just to see how it felt” by your age. It feels good. Drugs feel good. It’s how they work. And your brain wants to feel good. It’s how they keep working and you keep using.

He knows. He’s in a vicious cycle he’ll never claw his way out of.

And you know it, too.

And yet you’re wasting your time fighting with him instead of walking away.

Why?

He doesn’t know that.

“Yeah. Why don’t I fuck him?” you snark back, turning on your heel and walking back toward him, drawing him out of his pity party and back into the misery he created for no reason other than to drag you down with him, make you choke on it with him. “I don’t want to. That’s why. I want to fuck you, although believe me, that thought is getting less and less appealing every time you open that fucking mouth and speak.”

“It does have better uses,” he quips, shrugging, almost visibly relaxing at hearing he was chosen, that he hadn’t scared you off yet.

You roll your eyes. “When does the detox start?”

“Now. It’s been a couple of hours.”

“So you wanted to kick it off and try to put both of us in a shitty mood to start with? Not your brightest idea, huh?” you ask.

He doesn’t say anything and you nod, feeling slightly more in control now that you rendered him silent without any arguments. “Go home. You can’t think clearly if you’re going to be actively detoxing.”

“I still have to make them think I can function without it,” he says after pausing. He would’ve lied to you too, put up a façade with you too, but that’s the thing about addiction. It’s easy to hide dependence to people who don’t know what to look for, but you do. And you would smell it on him.

“I thought you didn’t care what people think?”

“I don’t.”

“Then why take the bet at all?”

“I’ll get out of clinic hours.”

“Right. You would never do something like this to prove a point,” you say sarcastically, leading him out of the office. —————- “Why are you with him?” Chase asks. “And you care enough about him to ask me to use my medical license for a script.”

“You’ll see I don’t care enough about him to risk using mine,” you counter. “It’s comfort meds. Just write the scripts and I’ll leave you alone and we can go back to never talking, which is honestly how I prefer it.”

“I’ve done nothing to you.”

“Right,” you mutter. “I’ve heard enough, though.”

“Does he… what does he say about me?” he asks, a look between bewildered and terrified crossing his face.

You laugh, shaking your head. “Forget I said anything. You’re fine, I’m sure, I just don’t want to be entangled in the team. I already work with Wilson. One facet of House’s life needs to be separate from me.”

“Right. So you’re asking me to prescribe him medications.”

“As a doctor. Which is your job,” you point out. You sigh, looking at the pretty blond man sitting in front of you. Maybe Greg was right to be afraid. Most women your age would be begging to spread their legs at the thought of carrying this man's children. He's more stable, at least comes off that way, and he doesn't have an addiction and a crippled leg.

“Why stay with him if you know he’s an addict?”

Why are you staying?

You look at him for a second, reading his face. “You hate people that struggle with addiction, don’t you?”

“I wouldn’t say I hate them. I just think they don’t realize the pain they cause and it’s unfair to the sober people in their life.”

“Everyone is someone’s burden,” you say.

But why did you take him on?

“So you think he’s going to detox.”

“I know he’s going to detox. Which is why. Once again. I’m asking you to prescribe him comfort medication for the aforementioned detox.”

“You guys really like each other, huh?”

Why did he take you on?

“No. I want my week to not be miserable. This might lessen it a little bit.”

“Oh, and you’re deflecting just like he would.”

“Just prescribe me the damn meds, Chase.”

“You’re going to be miserable anyway,” he says, shrugging as he takes out his script pad. “You owe me one.”

You know he's not wrong.

“Yeah. You’ll get a psych consult on the house,” you agree.

“Why’d you ask me?”

You sigh. “Can’t ask Wilson. Too close. So it had to be one of you three. Foreman just wouldn’t. Cameron would ask me too many questions and she’d tell everybody.”

“And me?”

“Process of elimination, really. Thank you, you know," you say, deciding to leave out the part where he gets off on sucking metaphorical dick for the chance at appealing to authority. Sometimes you wish you were as crass as House. You come up with some good ones if you could only find the guts to just say them.

“He’s not going to take them.”

“Probably not. But I’m doing my part.”

“As what? His girlfriend?”

“His… friend,” you clarify, and you walk out of the office with the scripts in tow to fill at the pharmacy. Later you hand them to him and he takes them without a word. He opens all the bottles, takes one of each pill in his hand and he pops them dry. Terrible for his esophagus, you tell him, and he mutters something about how he’s wrecked his liver and everything else has to catch up. He opens a bottle of wine and you lean against his chest, barely processing the cheap soap opera flashing in front of you on the TV. He's already sweating, you can feel his shirt damp against your cheek. You don’t know why you’re here. You don’t know why he made a show of taking all those pills in front of you. Maybe to show your efforts were appreciated without having to say the words, even if he thought it was stupid. Maybe it was a desperate attempt to make this all suck less. Maybe it was because this was bending the rules a little, a detox with help, however minor, and he always wanted to see how far he could push before the consequences could roll in. Let’s cheat a little. Instead of a slice of pizza on a diet let’s have a hydroxyzine in a cold turkey detox.

He asked you to come over tonight but he hasn’t said much of anything or initiated much either. Why does he want you here? To know he’s not alone this time, that you’re willing to face the brunt of this pain with him when it returns, like Stacy was unwilling to?

You don’t know.

You don’t want to know. It’s best he keeps that information in his own head where it belongs. You don’t want to get too attached, too close, too entangled. This is fine how it is.

But you still wake up drenched in sweat that isn’t yours.

[bridgetotheskyyy]

in your dreams.

series masterlist

chapter summary: Sukuna's sick of you pretending to be something you're not.

chapter warnings: nsfw, 18+ content, aged up characters, dubcon, oral, praise kink, degradation, spanking, ass fingering, unsolicited photo

word count: 3.8k

a/n: This one's a hefty one, worthy of the King of Curses! Whew. Please tell me if there's a tag you'd like me to add!

read on ao3 here.

“Bye, Itadori …” 

From within, Sukuna’s hand clutched around his throne arm.

You were just so … 

You smiled.

His tongue dragged across his lip, desperate to taste something.

So …

“Yeah,” Yuji said, waving, an unmistakable blush on his face as you left for the train.

Your skirt swished, exposing a dangerous amount of thigh. 

The throne’s arm gave under Sukuna’s grasp, crumbling to his feet.

He would have you.

---------------

The King of Curses couldn’t be fooled, wouldn’t be. Beneath your shy veneer was a vivacious slut, he knew it. You were desperate to spread your legs for Yuji, desperate for the brat’s cock.

For him.

He wasn’t imagining it; your sweet little voice would turn coquettish when Yuji was none the wiser —  alluring — at the turn of a dime. Your body would brush against his vessel when you were sure he wouldn’t notice. Your hands would graze against the nape of his neck. Timid eyes turned hungry at the sight of his shirtless form.

Perhaps Yuji could be fooled, but he couldn’t be. 

He’d prove it.

It was the brat’s fault, anyway; his fault for falling for a girl who knew nothing of their world, of curses, of him. 

Oh, but he’d love to introduce you.

Sukuna waited until the brat drifted off to sleep, exhausted by the inexhaustive pile of college homework (he huffed at the boy’s attempts at being normal, as if) before stepping into his consciousness. 

“O — Oi! —“ Yuji jerked, feeling the disturbance shrouding his mind.

“Go back to sleep,” Sukuna demanded. 

“I —“ 

“Sleep.” 

Sukuna waited until he could take over before he grabbed the brat’s phone and found your name in his messaging app.

(Y/n)? Come now.  

Sukuna smirked at the message bubble appearing on the screen, could feel his mouth water as the three dots appeared signifying your approaching reply. 

Yuji? What’s wrong? 

I can only tell you when you get here. It’s a secret just between us!

Oh … all right. I’m coming!

You would be. Sukuna snickered to himself, the phone’s blue light absorbing into the black of his tattoos.

The plan was set in motion, all he had to do now was wait. 

----------------------

Your heart rammed in your chest. 

It wasn’t like many — many — of your fantasies about Yuji Itadori began just like this. You, walking up to his door in the dead of night only for him to swing it open to pull you into his apartment and a breath-stealing kiss. 

Pinning you to the bed … shredding your clothes … ramming into you with those strong hips, big hands latched to your hips, praising you —

Good girl, (Y/n), oh my god, so good — 

“Na—ahhah!” You shook your head like doing so would loosen the thoughts hold on you. 

You’d been a mess ever since you’d caught him shirtless, playing basketball with a gaggle of other college students. Yuji was, it turned out, adorned with scars and mysterious marks marring his skin. That worried you, in a different world you’d be brave enough to ask him about it, but in this one, you’d kept quiet.

And you were frustrated with yourself because … you said adorned for a reason; they only made him hotter to you.

You wrung your hands around your jacket sleeve as you approached the door you’d seen so many times in your mind’s filthy eye. Knocked three times, hid your hand like it’d been caught stealing.

The door’s locks jingled from the other side — lightning zigzagged throughout your system, somersaulting your heart.

It opened and Yuji appeared — but he was different … Tattooes? How’d he get those so fast? And his stare … 

“Yu — Yuji?” 

Yuji stepped to the side and held the door open shut with his back to admit you. The side of his mouth ticked up in a smirk.

“Come in.” 

“What’s — what’s wrong?” You said, moving slowly past the threshold. 

And he chuckled — deep, resonating through his bones. His voice was different.

“Nothing,” Yuji said, “now you’re here.”

You blushed. What did he mean? You’d never heard him sound like this …

… you liked it. A little.

“Um …” You fiddled with the buttons of your jacket like an old habit. “Uh … I — I …”

Yuji snapped his fingers. “Oh, that’s right; you’ve never been here before, have you?” 

Yuji walked toward you — prowled, more like. You stepped back. 

Has … has he always been this big? Bigger than you?

“Uhm … no — no?” Only in my dreams. You bit your lip. 

That smirk again. Halfhearted. Mocking. Yuji’s eyes — darker now — scanned you, their attention delving lower and lower … 

“(Y/n).” 

You swallowed nothing. “Ye— yes?” 

He came close. Your heart leaped as he stopped in front of you —

“Come to the bedroom —“ 

He brushed passed you. 

Red further stained your cheeks. You turned to watch him, hand in his pocket, head down the hallway. “Wha — what?”

“You heard me,” he teased.

“I — I can’t! I —!” 

“Please?” his voice was softer now, more palatable as he puppy-eyed you from over his shoulder. “There’s something I gotta show you.”

You follow him and watch as Yuji shut the door, your heart rammed in your ears. 

Silence. You followed Yuji with your eyes, waiting.

“(Y/n),” he turned to you, “do you think I’m stupid?” 

You blinked furiously. “Wha — what?” 

He turned his office chair and sunk into it, hands still in his pockets. “I don’t like you belittling my intelligence like this. You think I don’t know?” 

You’ve offended him. You mentally kicked yourself several different ways. How? When? You pinched the sleeve of your jacket hard, your fingerpads whitening. 

“Know —  no — I mean — I don’t under — know what, Yuji?” 

God, your voice sounded weak even to you. 

He met your eye. “You said you’ve never been here before … but how many times have I fucked you in that bed, right there, beside you?” 

You froze. The surreality of the moment delayed your understanding of the words leaving his mouth. Like an idiot, you turned to face the bed, undisturbed and unslept in, as though it’d provide answers.

You turned back to him, gaping your mouth like a beached fish.

“How do I fuck you?” Yuji said. “In your dreams, I mean. Hm? Missionary? Do I throw your pretty little legs over my shoulders? Or, perhaps …” 

He paused, profane eyes oogling your form.

“Yuji …” Your voice was barely audible.

Yuji sighed. He stood from the chair to stalk toward you. “You shy ones are always so easy to read.”

 He leaned forward and in your ear: 

“You’re not fooling anybody.” 

You gasped, still unable to move as he leaned backward to meet your eye again. 

There was that chuckle again, chocolate dark. 

“Well then, if you insist on your innocence … let me introduce you to the bed.” 

The world tipped and spun as Yuji turned you around and shoved you onto the bed. You fell gracelessly, thumping your head inches from the pillows with a yelp. 

Pressure on your back and you knew Yuji was there. You raised but sucked air between your teeth when your ass brushed into Yuji’s crotch.

“Yuji …!”

“Perhaps you’d like it ass up?” Yuji continued.

You balled fists into the sheets, stunned into paralysis as Yuji chuckled above you. Visions of your fantasies flooded your mind; Yuji, ramming into you, the headboard of your bed bobbing from the power of his thrusts. In your lust-frenzied mind, it was his preferred way of fucking you.

You gasped as he swiped your skirt over your ass and knead the fat of it with his palm. 

“Hmm?” 

You whimpered as Yuji suppressed you to the mattress with his weight. 

“Yu —“ 

A sharp smack to your ass sent you screaming, the sting running through your nerves.

“Answer me.” 

Yuji buried his face in your hair, burying his sick laughs at the back of your neck. Another slap reinforced the pain of the last, rolling into one another.

“Y — Yes! Doggystyle!” You relented. “Always doggystyle!”

He laughed out loud this time but your reply didn’t deter him as a third slap came down on your ass — again and again, alternating between cheeks each time. Your skin screamed from the swift punishments of his hand.

“On your hands and knees … ” Smack. “You should be ashamed.”

Smack.

“Filthy slut.”

Smack. 

 You felt another shout crawl up your throat when the assaults ceased. You breathed a sigh of relief as Yuji’s weight lessened.

A new sound; the metallic clink of Yuji unbuckling his pants.

Your eyes widened.

“Doggy, you said?” Yuji said. “Hm. If you insist.”

You felt him yank your panties down to ride around the fat of your thighs. You felt him press into you again —

“Yuji —!” You panicked. “Wait —!” 

Yuji’s answer was his cock slamming into you from behind. 

Your voice died, the wind knocked out of you as he forced his way into your wet cunt.

 “So wet,” Yuji remarked as you mewled. “To be expected —“

He pushed your head into the mattress, forcing you to bite into your lip before resting his hand at the small of your back. He rocked his hips hard and fast into you. Hard slapping sounded throughout the room as he took you. It was your first time but it wouldn’t matter if it hadn’t been, not with the way Yuji’s huge cock split you open, your clenched walls expanding with pain to admit him.

Your legs trembled. Yuji roared from behind you as his cock forced itself inside of you time and time again. Your mouth hung agape against the sheets. Yuji’s thrusts kept coming, swift, his angle providing you with equal times pain and pleasure, robbing you of any bearings.

“Fuck,” he hissed, hands forcing your hips back to meet his thrusts. “I bet you’ve envisioned this a few times today. Go on,” he growled. “Tell me I’m wrong — lie.”

One hand abandoned your hip to slap the sore skin of your ass and you yelped.

You couldn’t deny it. Things were happening so fast — Yuji reached forward to pin your hands behind your back with only one of his. You were so full, full with him — and he hadn’t — hadn’t even — 

You couldn’t help it; your pussy throbbed, tightening around Yuji’s cock in response

Yuji rewarded you with a particularly hard thrust. “Just like this,” Yuji taunted. “Hard and rough, isn’t that right, (Y/n)! What a good little bitch you are.” 

No answer came; you were overwhelmed with him and his cock making a meal of your cunt. Yes! Your brain screamed. Yes! Just like this! You convulsed around him and heard him groan in response.

His strength — it wasn’t human. He dragged your ass on him and each time you collided with him with a pronounced slap, slap, slap, the hardboard of his abdomen stabbing at your backside. 

One of his hands reached forward and you felt the flaring pain as his thumb stabbed into your asshole.

“Ngh!” You bounced against him, powerless in the onslaught. Your pussy fluttered around his cock, feeling it punch your cervix with each swift thrust.

You might as well be part of the mattress with the way your face was planted against the sheets. Drool escaped your mouth to wet them as your eyes rolled back, mind overwhelmed with the assault your cunt is taking. 

His weight fell over your back but his thrusts remained undisturbed, he merely thrashed into you at a new angle while his strong body fused with yours.

“Do I cum inside you, (Y/n)?” he taunted, the heat of his breath puffing into the shell of your ear. “Do I leave you a slobbering — fucking — mess —?”

“Ye — yes!” You choked out, feeling the tight of your orgasm. “Yes, Yuji, ple —ease!” 

“So predictable,” Yuji landed a smack to one of your abused cheeks. “Human women, you’re all the same —“

He pounded into you, his thumb fingering the pucker of your ass as your orgasm came over you. You bite your lip as he crushed you to the mattress, the tight muscles of his fine chest pressing onto your clothed back. You convulsed around him for a second time and heard him roar — 

You heard your scream in your ears but didn’t recognize it as yours; the world melted around you. You trembled as your climax sent you clutching around him again and again. Blackened dots flared in your vision when your eyes squeezed shut. Your cunt milked him, desperate to keep him sheathed inside you as each thrust sent another wave of pleasure through you. Your chest wracked with sobs. Yuji’s hold on your wrists pained as he spilled inside of you.

You don’t feel him pull out nor do you feel yourself being tussled around so your back hit the mattress. Your eyes opened —

Yuji’s pressed down and around you. You looked up at his wicked smile. 

“Yu —!“

He covered your lips with his. 

You yelped as he nibbled the plush of your earlobe.

“Yuji …!” You exclaimed, out of breath, legs squeezing to him. “What’s happening you you? I —“ 

His lips land on you again, rough and demanding your mouth. His hand flew to your neck, choking you hard. Yuji ground into you, the hard press of his cock at your thigh. 

His lips left you. Your lips parted without your say, delirious from Yuji’s attention. 

“Stop playing dumb, you —“

You feel something warm and wet smack your tongue and realize it’s him, spitting into your mouth. His tongue traced the line of your jaw until he met your ear again.

“You’re getting what you want, aren’t you?” Yuji said, his hand grazing against your clit like a false promise. “ I didn’t even have to play with you before, maybe your cunt is more behaved than I thought … Good girl.”

Yuji’s hand tightened over your throat, appendages molding into your skin. You mewled because it is all you can manage. A shameful wetness roiled between your thighs, a mixture of your juices and his.

His cum inside you.

Yuji seemed to notice your predicament because he faced you, grin darkening his face. “I imagine there’s one other place you’d like my cum,” he said. “Am I wrong?” 

He lessened his grip so you could afford him a shaking head. 

“N— no …” 

It wouldn’t be the first time you’d envisioned Yuji’s cock in your mouth, hollowing out your cheeks to suck him off, the salt of his seed flavoring your tastebuds …

“Of course I’m not,” Yuji said.

He rose, bringing you along by the tug of your hair. He threw you to the floor and you stumbled, falling awkwardly on your butt, panties still tangled around your thighs. You groaned; you hurt everywhere, the pain Yuji had imprinted on your flesh and bones thrumming from every direction. Yuji gripped your hair again to adjust you on your knees before forcing you to face him. 

Your eyes landed on the cock that had just assaulted you, still hard and ready at your lips.

Yuji didn’t wait, guiding his cock into your parted lips and waiting mouth. You gagged, planting hands on his thighs for space, but Yuji only pressed you farther by a hand at the back of your head. 

“Suck,” he ordered — groaned.

You looked up at him through hooded lids. You hollowed your cheeks to supply the suction he’d demanded and you watched him hum. He was gorgeous, all sculpted chest and buff biceps and elegant neck. The sight of his marred skin only sent much-needed saliva to your mouth. Yuji’s hand ran through neopolitan pink hair as you serviced him at your knees. 

“Nngh … You little whore,” he hissed, grip at the back of your head tightening, coupled with the rock of his hips. “I knew it, I knew it — urgh — allow me to leave you a little parting gift.”

Your hand worked the space of his shaft unoccupied by your mouth, stroking as you worked for his load. You heard his labored breath above you, sending thrums of excitement down to your cunt. His approving hums turned hurried with his cockhead having found the back of your throat.

Yuji’s fingers grazed your skin until they curled under your chin. He lifted your head, your gaze following suit. 

“Is this the act of a shy person, (Y/n)?” he mocked between short breaths. “Panties around her ankles and a cock in her mouth?”

Your face grew hot with embarrassment before he threw your face away with a guttural rumbling in his throat. Tears pebbled the corner of your eyes. You sucked harder, hungering for his cock, for your gift. You felt his cock twitch on the pad of your waiting tongue. 

“Yes, come on,” he urged. “Earn it. Earn it.” 

Yuji’s cock pulsed against the flat of your tongue. He forced himself down your throat, the hot swell of his shaft tickling the palate of your mouth. With a few more assisted bobs of your mouth, he planted your face into his abdomen with a roar. Pubic hair tickled the tip of your nose as his cum splashed the back of your throat, licking its way down.

“Don’t swallow,” Yuji ordered, rocking his hips slowly to ride himself out in your mouth. “I wanna see —“

He choked his disappearing words down in the wake of his climax. You gagged as trails of cum escaped past your lips and rolled down to your chin. 

Finally, finally, he released you, pulling your head off his cock. 

He slapped your cheek expectantly. “Come on now, show me, show me.”

Yuji …

Delirious with him, you obeyed. You parted your lips to show him the desired evidence left on your abused tongue. 

He laughed — soft at first, mirth rife with disbelief, only for it to dissolve into hysterics. 

“Beautiful!” he said. “Truly, truly —“ 

He doubled over from his laughter. Tears that threatened your eyes fell now as you struggled not to swallow. Humiliation flared in your chest, rumbling your stomach like a poor meal. Yuji brushed past you to snatch something off the desk. Only when he returned to you did you see that it was the shadowy rectangle in his grasp was his phone. 

“Stay. Keep your head up — thaaat’s it.”

Light flashed in your eyes as Yuji captured your depravity. 

He raised his phone up to admire the picture. “Now I can see why humans carry such things.”

He threw his phone on the bed, affording you one final glance down at you before closing his eyes with a smile to himself. 

“You can come back,” he said. “I’m through with your little slut.”

You watched, mouth finally closed and sore everywhere, as Yuji popped his eyes open; life flared in his irises as though having been deprived of it beforehand. Yuji blinked furiously, waking from some disorienting dream. 

“Huh? I —“ he looked down and saw you. 

Your head was filled with cotton. “Yu … ji?” 

Realization colored Yuji’s face. “Oh … god.” He knelt down in front of you. “I — oh god, FUCK, (Y/n).”

You felt his hands adjust your clothes, flatten your hair. His hands were awkward, unsure in their movements. He stared at you in concern. 

“Fuck, fuck, I’m — I’m so sorry,” he said. 

You placed a hand on the bed to afford you purchase as you tried to stand. The space between your legs roared in protest and you whimpered, stumbling.

“God … oh god …” Yuji said. His arms settled on your arms and for a second you anticipated a hug, so Yuji to do, but none came, perhaps he thought it better not to after …

After.

“Let me get you cleaned up —“ 

“No,” your voice was shrunk, rivaling the pain rattled in your bones. You pulled your panties back up past your skirt. “I’m — I’m … okay.”

You meant to say clean, but a desire to laugh at the hilarity of such a statement stopped you. 

“At least let me give you a ride home,” Yuji said as you walked to the door, soreness restricting your gait, “or — or —“ 

“I’m okay, Yuji …” You said, just a little more sure now. Your hand caressed the knob but you didn’t see it; your mind had turned to mush, reality blanketed by a sickening haze. 

“A taxi, then,” Yuji said. “(Y/n), please, I can’t leave you like — like this.”

Your hand remained unmoved on the knob as you considered his words yet didn’t answer.

“A taxi,” Yuji said and you could almost hear him nodding. Yes, yes, a taxi would fix things, wouldn’t it? “I’ll order for you, just … stay here.”

His hands were on your shoulders, gently carrying you away from the door. You looked up at him as he guided you back to the ruined bed; his eyes were … normal, wide and almost childlike. He left you with a gentle touch to your hand for reassurance before grabbing his phone.

Yuji … You watched his fingers scurry across the screen, hand trembling as he held the device.

Who are you? 

The next half hour carried on in a daze, an endless vignette of events ushering you from one moment to the next, mall snapshots taken seconds apart; Yuji ushering you gently into the backseat of the taxi; the streets, illuminated by nightlights, whishing past your window. The steps to your apartment. A door closing. Collapsing against fresh sheets.

You drifted into sleep — where, apparently, dreams and reality were one and the same.

-------

Sukuna waited with bated breath and excitement roiling the waters of his inner domain for the next time you dared to speak to his vessel. 

He’d laughed himself silly watching the boy thrash his apartment, crying about the friendship lost between the two of you, damning him to hell. 

You’re not getting rid of that picture on your phone, though, are you, little rat-faced runt?

Heh. Yeah, right. 

Humans.

Even more fun lay imagining you the next morning, the memories of the night before coloring your mind before the panic set in and came your mad scramble for contraceptives. Ha!

But then it came. A chance encounter at the university. You paused on the walkway as your eyes met his. Your precious skin flushed with red at the sight of him. His vessel stumbled, swallowing hard at you in turn.

Sukuna’s smile cheshired. 

What will you do? Will your eyes flicker down to the abs you loved so much? Will you speak first? He had to know, the human drama was delicious to behold. 

“Hey …” it was Yuji who spoke first, nervous hands hiding in his pockets.

“H — Hi, Yuji …” You fiddled with the strap of your purse. 

“Look …” Yuji’s gaze trailed downward. He gripped the handrail. Pathetic. “I … um … about that night —“ 

“It’s okay!” You said. “Really, it is!” 

Like hell it was. Already, your mind must have done the legwork to rearrange the turn of events, desperate to make a sensical narrative out of it.

Sukuna watched you fidget through Yuji’s vision. Your legs rocked against one another in your cute little beige skirt. He … recognized something, a familiar gesture he’d learned from nights ruining women. 

He leaned forward on his throne, anticipation clutching his hand. 

Say it.

Yuji looked up, clearly astonished. “Really?” a blush. “Wha — what do you mean?”

“I …” You struggled. “I mean …”

Say it.

“What …” You stammered, your eyes glued to his shoes. “What I mean is …”

Say it, you shameless little whore —

“If you’d like to get together again sometime?” You said, your sweet eyes tinged with hunger at Yuji’s parting lips. “If you want?” 

“Oh. Oh, yeah, sure!” 

From within, Sukuna bit into the sweetness of his victory. 

Hook, line, sinker.

[konigenblobbity]

Request: Emergency Contact

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x GN!Military!Reader (Callsign Viper)

Warnings: Angst, mention of severe injury, mention of car accident, slow burn

Request: [@lovestruckaphrodite] (this request is based on a Pierce the Vail song, but I suck at writing and i trust your words). y/n and ghost became roommates after meeting somewhere. They moved in together after something happened in y/ns life that made them either get kicked out of their house/had to leave their house so they become roommates. they weren't really close with one another regarding their jobs, but knew that both of them were in the military, just not in the same task force. then one day, Ghost gets a call in the middle of a meeting from an unknown number, but a familiar area code (the one y/n and he lived in) so he answers, and y/n was injured and had to get emergency surgery, and y/n put him as the emergency contact

A/n: this took a WHILE! But I hope you like it! Also I used the term dove - wanting it to be GN :). This work is also HIGHLY inspired to this work by @mockerycrow! If you like this please go show them some love!

Every Tuesday afternoon you spent in the same place doing the same thing. Sitting in your corner seat in your favorite cafe waiting for your drink. In fact many of the locals loved to visit this exact cafe, so you often saw the same people walk in and out of the doors. Not really caring, often reading a book or on your phone.

Its then that he walks in, you can tell by his heavy footsteps and his soft sigh as he takes his usual seat in the cafe - preferring the one closer to the window one table from you. You try not to be obvious with your gaze, watching through your lashes as he adjusts his sleeves and then places both his hands in his lap, fingers interlocked before pulling out his phone.

Ever since you started seeing him in this cafe a few months ago, you were infatuated with him. His blonde hair which he appeared to bleach himself, his signature black face mask paired with a skull patterned mask that covered up the bottom half of his face along with most of his neck, his tattoo sleeve that you only got a glimpse of on the hotter days he wore a t-shirt.

What was fascinating is how’d you see him at other places too… at your local grocery store, bank, park, even the bookstore. After a while you came to the conclusion that you had to live in the same area, or that he was simply a ghost haunting you and following you everywhere. With how much you saw him, you began to notice more about him…

Others didn’t dare look at him, let alone sit near him. His whole demeanor radiated authority and power. However rather than feeling threatened, you felt intrigued. Matter of fact… he reminded you of a lieutenant you heard rumors of around your task force. A ruthless and highly trained individual, who wore a similar skull balaclava paired with a skull mask. What a coincidence.

Finally your eyes land back on your book, not wanting him to spot you burning a hole into him with your gaze. Luckily that now gave him his opportunity to do the same, leaning back just enough to glance over the top of his phone and at you without making it obvious he was staring.

He recognized you, remembers seeing you last week at the grocery store and before that having seen you at the library. Wherever he was in the area, his eyes always managed to find you; turning a corner and hearing your familiar hum of a song, spotting your through the windows of restaurants with a friend, even walking through the doors of a store and seeing you already in line with a kind smile.

Maybe it was the familiarity that came with seeing you so often but he couldn’t help but open his mouth whenever you got close, trying to find the words to introduce himself. Yet he never could, just letting you walk off with your steps echoing the sound of his racing heart. Breaking from his thoughts as you flipped the page of your book, he took notice of something on your arm.

Right on your inner forearm, under where you had rolled up your sleeves, he saw a rather familiar symbol. The tip of two wings were showing along with the top a knife handle, he furrowed his brows and became curious. Beginning to devise a plan.

He stands up softly taps the edge of your table “Excuse me dove…” he says and you turn to look at him and giving a kind smile and letting out a soft hum of curiosity, urging him to continue. “Mind if I take some of your sugar?” He points over at the container on the end of your table “Don’t have any on my table” he clarifies further, wanting to appear smooth.

“oh! Yeah, here!” you reach forward and grab it, handing it to him “I don’t need it” you add, suddenly feeling so nervous your mouth feels the need to move and speak. It’s then that he gets a better look at the tattoo, and he smirked under his mask. It was exactly what he thought it was. Sitting on your forearm was a set of wings erupting from a SAS dagger, a banner below it reading ‘Who dares win’ in black ink.

“Would you look at that…” he mumbles softly, but clear enough for you to hear. You just look at him confused, both at his words and the fact that he hadn’t taken the sugar yet. “You a soldier?” He asks and that’s when you notice his gaze wasn’t on the sugar, but on your forearm.

Your eyes shifts down to your tattoo before lifting it back up to look into his eyes. With a soft smile you respond “Sergeant actually…” a bit of pride in your voice. Then using this opportunity to get to know this mysterious gentleman “I’m guessing you serve?” You inquire with a tilt of your head.

He gives you a curt nod, “Spot on” finally reaching forward and taking the sugar container. He holds onto it for the moment and then lifts his right hand, grabbing his jacket and opening it to show you the inner lining where a patch is sown in. It had that same symbol; the SAS dagger and wings. You chuckle softly and then mumble “What are the chances”

Just as you were about to ask his rank and which task force he is a part of, the server told you that your order was ready and simultaneously he received a phone call. You stand up and then smile over at the gentleman “it was nice to meet you…” pausing afterwards as you realized you don’t know his name.

“Callsign Ghost” he spoke with a light chuckle and reaches out his hand. You take it with a small nod “Viper” smiling as you responded. You then pull your hand back “Until next time I guess?” You ask and after he gives you a short nod in response, he walks back to his seat, takes the call, and leaves. Funnily enough not adding any sugar to his drink.

As time passed you continued to see Ghost quite often around the area, always exchanging hellos, checking up on timely things going on in each others lives. Even feeling comfortable to compliment him on his new watch to which he points out your shirt, saying how he didn’t recognize it. Making the effort to check in on each other if the person seems particularly chipper that day.

You should’ve known by how often you saw him that there was a chance you two lived in the same apartment complex. Yet you never saw him there so it was always just a theory in the back of both your and Ghost’s mind.

The first time he sees your there was a few months after you first met, when he was making his way back to his apartment and saw you at the receptionist desk he couldn’t help but be confused. Then becoming intrigued as he noticed you were arguing frantically with the receptionist.

“Look. Lydia is there any way someone can get started on the treatment today. I can’t stay at a hotel for weeks on end!” His brows furrowed at just how agitated you sounded. Spotting a large suitcase next to you along with a few bags. “Yes! I heard you the first time. Just… Is there any other apartment I can stay in?” You were practically pacing and steaming with rage.

“Then can you bring him out here! Seeing as he’s my fucking landlord!” The receptionist walks off for a moment and Ghost continues to observe. When they come back she says something that makes you scoff. You then lean over the desk and shout into the direction the receptionist had walked off to.

“Thank you so much for your help! I really appreciate how empathetic you are about the whole situation you fucking prick” Before stepping away from the desk and sitting at one of the chairs with your things. He chuckles to himself at your sarcasm, walking up to you when you pull out your phone and curse out in frustration.

“Viper?” Your head lifts and you spot Ghost walking up to you, “Hey… Ghost?” you look at him confused but then give him your best attempt at a smile. “I didn’t know you lived here.” He states and you scoff, shaking your head. “Not anymore. The pipes in the apartment above mine broke so there’s water damage everywhere. The landlord kicked me out while they fix it but didn’t give me anywhere else I could stay… so I’m currently homeless” you pinch the bridge of your nose and grumble.

He chuckled dryly “Well shit. I’m not surprised, that asshole never gives in any effort expect when it comes to drinking…” you can’t help but laugh softly at his joke. Ghost feels a butterfly sensation when he heard it, finding pride in lifting your mood ever so slightly.

“Anyone you can stay with? Or a hotel?” He then asks and you shake your head, looking at him and sighing. “No. No one I’d be willing to live with for weeks. And no hotel I’m willing to spend an unknown amount of money on for an indefinite amount of time”

At his soft hum of understanding you just shrug and there’s a comforting silence for a minute. He simply stood there as you aimlessly search through your phone for nearby hotels. “What if you stayed with me?” His words caught you off guard. Thinking he was joking you chuckle and look at him with furrowed brows and a questioning smile.

“What?” You ask and he shrugs, as if what he suggested wasn’t completely out of the blue and naively bold. “Why not? I mean we both are out most days. No point paying the rent for two apartments when neither of us spend most of our time there.” Your shock and skepticism slowly fades as you consider his words.

“Well… you have a point.” You murmur softly and put your phone in your pocket before putting you hands on your hips, looking down at your bags. “Are you sure?” You ask and he just nods, crossing his arms over his chest. “Yeah. Dove, as long as you pay your half and respect my ground rules. It should be just fine. I got a guest room you can use” he explains and you nod at his words.

Then sighing and shrugging dramatically. “Alright! It’s not like I got a better option right now” you smile at him and hear him chuckle dryly. With that he takes one of your bags and throws it over his shoulder, grabbing the handle of your large suitcase and beginning to walk off to the elevator with it. “Come on. The sooner we get there, the sooner you can get settled in” you grin and grab the rest of your things, following after him.

At first you wouldn’t see Ghost that often, having different schedules and both of you immediately heading to your rooms to enjoy your time off. Slowly the two of you ended up seeking out each other’s company. Running into each other in the kitchen and enjoying a nice drink together after a long day.

Roughly two months later, when your apartment was fixed and ready for you to move in again, you spoke to Ghost and both of you agreed it would just be better to stay roommates. Over the next few months getting even closer, ordering food together for dinner, waking each other up in the mornings if one of you were sleeping in, distributing the chores, even going by a first name basis.

-

At this point you’ve been roommates for more than half a year, and it was just as any other day for Ghost. Sitting in a meeting with Captain Price up front telling the team about an upcoming mission. The goal, precautions, sub teams, targets, security, the whole nine yards.

Its then that he’s interrupted by a ringing phone. Ghost immediately cursing to himself as he feels the vibration in his pocket, meeting Price’s unamused gaze. He sighs “Off lieutenant.” To which Ghost nods “On it, sorry Captain” pulling his phone out of his pocket and turning off the ringer.

Not without spotting the unknown number and it’s familiar area code. Right from the area where you and Ghost lived. He noted down in his head to check it out after the meeting.

10 minutes later he walked out of the room, reaching his hand into his pocket and grabbing his phone. Curiosity getting the better of him as he pressed the most recent missed call. Holding the phone to his ear as it rang, leaning against the wall behind him as he waited.

After a few moments there was a click and a kind voice spoke. “Hello, am I speaking with a Simon Riley?” Ghost’s brows immediately furrowed, put at unease by the fact this stranger knew his name. “Who is this?” his tone stern and cautious as he waits for a response. “How’d you get this number?” he asks before the person on the other line could respond.

The voice then clears their throat “Thank you for calling back, this is the Woman’s and Children Highbury Hospital. You were put down as an emergency contact” the name of the hospital immediately registered with him… recognizing it as the hospital just a few blocks down from where you and him lived.

His heart caught in his throat and he stiffened up, now standing up straight looking off into nowhere. “Emergency contact?” he repeated to himself, mumbling so softly he thought the receptionist on the other line hadn’t heard him. Until he spoke.

“Yes sir. By an y/n y/l/n. They were in a severe car collision earlier today and were rushed to the hospital. They had to undergo an emergency surgery and in their files they left you as the emergency contact.” Ghost felt as if he lost the ability to speak. His phone shaking in his hand as the weight of those words sink in.

The voice of the receptionist fading away as he calls out through the phone, trying to get a response or a sign that Ghost was still listening. Realizing that in that moment of time you were lying in a hospital bed, suffering immensely, all alone. Snapping out of his daze as all his attention went to getting to that hospital.

“I’m on my way.” He spoke curtly into the phone, immediately hanging up and rushing to leave the base. Pushing past people without much care as he simply regarded them as obstacles in his way, stopping him from getting to you. As he rushed to the hospital, his mind was a storm he couldn’t manage to contain. Emotions running rampant.

Ghost never fully took the time to reflect on how he felt about you. Only knowing he enjoyed your company and couldn’t help but relax his reserved demeanor around you. Never feeling judged by you, or needing to explain anything about his past or why he acted the way he did.

Yet… as he rushed over to the hospital all he could think about was what he would’ve done if you hadn’t survived the accident. How he would’ve returned home to an empty apartment… fragments of you all around him. The photos you hung up to ‘add more life’ to the walls. Or the carpet you bought for an outrageous price just because ‘the woman who made it was so nice’.

How he would’ve never been able to share another drink with you… or argue about takeout ever again… never heard you singing to yourself while doing the chores. All those things that lifted his mood, he would’ve lost them all. If he had lost you… his closest friend and roommate.

His mind continued to fall down that rabbit hole of ‘what if’ and the more upset he got at the idea of you not longer being around, the more he realized just how much you meant to him.

Considering the idea that maybe he loved you more than a friend… cared for you so much that the mere idea of you being in pain made his knees weak. And the idea of you no longer being around had his body about ready to collapse in on itself.

How he managed to make it to the hospital without breaking down, he wasn’t quite sure. As he bursts through the doors he ignores the judgmental glances he gets. Rushing up to the receptionist desk in the lobby, the man behind it terrified at first at the sight of Ghost, still in his uniform and wearing his skull mask, rushing at him.

Ghosts hand gripped at the counter “Which room is y/n y/l/n in?!” although his voice was low and gruff the softness and worry behind it was enough for the receptionist to regain his focus. Eyes blinking and clearing his throat as he asks “A-and who are you sir?” looking at his screen as he awaits his response.

“Gho-…. Simon. Riley” he corrected watching the receptionist double check the information. “The emergency contact” he clarifies further, tapping his fingers anxiously and impatiently on the desk as he looks around, seeing people on crutches, injured, and bleeding. Images of you in that state making him close his eyes, just needing to see you. Alive and breathing.

The receptionist then nods his head and looks up at him again. “They’re in room 32 on the third floor, but I’ll warn you they-“ before he could finish his statement Ghost mumbled a thank you and was bolting down the hall. Straight past the elevator and rushing up the stairs skipping over steps with pounding footsteps.

Eyes spotting the room number at the end of the hall, and just as he was a foot away from the door, mere meters away from you… a doctor opened it and walked out. She looked up and Ghost halted to a stop as to not run into her.

“Ah. You must be Simon” giving him a sympathetic smile. Ghost could feel his heart pounding and his eyes kept flitting to the door “Y-yeah” he says quickly before trying to move past the doctor and through the door. Surprised when she steps in front of him blocking his path.

“Don’t worry. You’ll be able to see them in a moment” he looked at her with disbelief, eyes wide… how dare she keep him from you for a second longer. She then speaks before he can protest “I just want to warn you of the state they’re in…” and with those words he thinks better than to just burst in through the door.

Grumbling under his breath but turning his gaze back to the doctor, letting her know he was listening. She continued “They’re alive but asleep at the moment” just those two first words enough to make his shoulders relax, and he swore his vision went hazy at the relief that flooded through him.

“They are, however, suffering from major bruising, multiple broken ribs, a fractured wrist, and a broken foot” her face sympathetic as she spoke, gauging his reaction. With every diagnosis his heart twisted that little bit more. Repeating to himself in his mind ‘At least they’re alive. At least they’re still here’ like a mantra, trying to focus on the ever so slight silver lining.

‘At least it’s not too late’

The doctor then finally steps aside, calmly advising him “I recommend you take a deep breath. They’re very emotionally vulnerable right now and we want to avoid stressing them out as much as possible” Ghost was more than ready to ignore that advice but at the thought of stressing you out, and remembering what he’s learned about how important it is not to panic in high stress situations, he pauses and gives a slight nod.

The doctor gives one final nod in return and then leaves. Simon takes a deep breath and with a shaking hand reaches for the doorknob. Gripping it and just holding it for a few seconds before finally finding the strength to turn it and walk inside.

There you were… lying practically lifeless on the hospital bed. Only sign of life the beeping of the heart monitor. Covered in white bandages which contrasted the deep purple bruises across your skin. His eyes continued to trace over your sleeping figure, noting the few gashes in your skin, the one on your calf even decorated with stitching.

You looked awful… it made him sick and he almost went looking for a trash can as he felt vomit threaten to make its way up his throat. He steps closer, moving to kneel on the floor next to the bed, eyes welling up in joy as he finally sees you… finally has proof that he didn’t lose you.

Eyes focused on the rise and fall of your chest and in the silence of the room… in the steady beeping of the monitor… he was finally able to organize his thoughts. Questioning himself on why he felt his world shatter when the hospital called him, why he was crying underneath his mask at the sight of you, why he could physically feel pain in his chest.

Then his eyes drifted up to your face, and even with the cuts and bruises on your face you still made his heart skip. He found himself tracing your every feature with his gaze, as if trying to map it out in his head. He’s never been this close to you before and in this moment he realized why… he couldn’t handle being this close to you.

It was as if he could feel his body physically melt next to you, hand reaching for yours before gently holding it, hoping it would keep him from dissolving into a puddle. Cursing to himself he rested his forehead against your hand and closed his eyes.

He loved you. Simon Riley really fucking loved you.

Never fully considering it before today… too afraid to even think about his feelings towards you. Yet now he regretted every day he didn’t tell you he loved you. Didn’t tell you how much you meant to him. This felt like another chance for him.

Another chance for him to share his true feelings with you because he just couldn’t lose you. Especially not without you knowing how much he loved you first. How he’d be willing to take every single one of your wounds on as his own just so you don’t have to suffer like this.

You had to know. He had to tell you before it was too late. He would wait by your bed for days on end, never once letting go of you, until you woke up. He wouldn’t let anyone or anything drag you away from him, not again. Not without a fight.

[whumble-beeee]

WOOP WOOP THAT'S THE SOUND OF DA POLICE

The (Un)Official Guide to Hero-Keeping | Cont'd from Part 15

Content: kidnapping/captivity, noncon drugging, recreational drug use, OD references, captivity references, honestly this is probably the closest thing to fluff you'll get from me: the funny

(AN: just a mini-chapter this week before we get back into things!)

* * * * A Brief Interlude * * * *

It had been a pretty easy drive so far.

Stan seemed more than content to just sit in his seat with his arms bound behind his back, completely relaxed except for the brief moments when his eyes would fly open and he would lurch up stock straight in his seat. Then just settle back and close his eyes right back up. Made Declan jump every time. Though he was really just happy that he didn’t have to blindfold the kid, excepting the intermittent night terrors, or whatever those were.

He knew he really should put the kid in the trunk or something, at least the back seat, but he was slightly worried he’d OD Stan, considering the way he was acting, the blank staring the complete lack of fight. Not to mention Declan’d kinda forgotten to account for his tiny size with the dosage. He was like, what, half Declan's size? More? Better to keep an eye on him.

It was pretty funny though, how high he was. And it’d be fine. No one would see them. It was dark, and Declan was taking the backroad highway that was usually deserted at night anyway. 

That being said, Stanny hadn’t said a word since they started driving… almost an hour ago now? The pill Declan’d taken earlier was really starting to hit him, too, lightly smudging the dark trees as they went sailing by, muting the rumble of the engine, a warm buzz enveloping his body as they sat in an easy silence aided by the light tunes of classic rock. Darkness washed over them like calm waves on a beach, only broken by the lime-green illuminations from the buttons on the dashboard and the odd car blasting them with their brights as it screamed down the opposite side of the highway. That was usually around when Stan would lurch up, actually.

“Hey, Uh… Declan. Deeby, DB, Deebers, Eeby Deeby, uh... Darth… Bucky…” Stan mumbled, eyes fluttering open.

Declan snorted at Stan’s ramblings, even if it did interrupt his favorite part of ‘Everybody Wants to Rule the World’. He turned the speaker down to a dull whisper.

“What, that my new nickname?” he bantered lazily. “I’ve definitely heard better.”

“Y’know, you’d be like,” Stan pitched his head back until it lightly thumped on the headrest, glassy eyes fixed firmly on the cloth ceiling. “Like, really hot, super hot, y’know? If you weren’t evil. Like really hot. The-the bandana, and the cowboy hat, and the tall and that accent and the whole… cyberpunk cowboy shit?... that’s fuckin’... that’s hot, man… not to me though but like, ahh... 'M not blind…”

Holy shit, what? God, he loved drugged people. 

“Y’know, some people would say that the evil makes me hotter,” Declan pointed out, humoring the captive than anything else. Besides, he wasn’t wrong. That was one of the tactics he used to capture, sometimes. Charms. The mask, the hat, the whole rugged cowboy look. It often got people excited, lulled them into a sense of safety and wanting. Very useful skill, being ‘hot’.

“Well… yeah,” Stan conceded. “But not me. Because you’re evil. Actually evil, a real actual villain who does villain things... Also not really my… my type. My fiancé though? D’loooove you‘f you weren’t evil. And if you didn’t kidnap me. He'd punch you in the face. S’mine though, hands off.”

Declan snorted. “Yeah, nah, don’t worry, I’m not gonna try to hit that. I think he’d be more angry with me anyway. Or scared, I guess. I certainly wouldn’t wanna meet me again.”

Stan lifted his head up. “What?”

“Hm?”

“You uh… you-you… met? How’d you know Marcus?”

“You told me about him. He’s your boyfriend,” Declan led on. It was kinda fun, this game of almost revealing information to him.

“F-fffiancé!”

“Ah, right. Fiancé. My bad.”

“T’ssssss uh…” He laid his head back again and closed his eyes.  “It’s fine…” 

And he was gone again. Settled back into the seat, like he’d just fallen asleep on a long late-night road trip.

Except for the blood running down his shirt and temples and the excessive bruises and red angry cuts that covered his body, his arms, his face, his neck. Ugh, all he could think now was that he probably should have cleaned Stan up a bit before sticking him in the front seat of his truck. 

Not to mention the collar. That's what really worried him. It was discernable from a mile away, and everyone knew what it was: A super detainment device. He hated that collar. It was so demeaning, and for what? Why a collar? There were power-dampening cuffs, he knew they existed.

It was all just for show, some ill-disguised power fantasy. Parade around the supers, look, they’re not dangerous anymore, they’re collared. They can’t hurt the regular people! You’re safe from the freaks! Police definitely liked it, power-tripping bastards. And he knew Vaughn definitely loved the collars.

And Lana.

Ew.

Not thinking about them right now. The engine of car roared over the music. He let up off the gas just a smidge. Declan had better things to do while high, anyway. Like vibe. Which was the complete opposite of those two. He’d much rather listen to ‘Hotel California’.

He turned the radio back up and let the music envelop him.

And in the master's chambers, they gathered for the feast They stab it with their steely knives, but they just can't kill the beast Last thing I remember, I was running for the door I had to find the passage back to the place I was before "Relax, " said the night man, "We are programmed to receive You can check out any time you like–”

Piercing sirens suddenly hammered his ear-drums, wrecking through his easy concentration. He nearly swerved off the damn road. Bright reds and blues bathed the interior of the car in eerie, dangerous rave-like flashes of light. Stan’s eyes startled open with a small gasp. 

Lightning shocked through Declan’s body.

The police.

God dammit, why? Was he speeding? Was Stan more visible than he thought?!

Declan slammed his hands against the steering wheel with an angry shout, and this time Stan squeaked and cowered into himself. 

God, and now he had to get out his ‘fuck da police’ playlist, the vibes were completely different now!

This is what he got for breaking his damn rules!

Shit.

* * * * * * * *

Next

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[bruisedboys]

i just realized my last ask was so like straight to the point and rude 😭 but happy 3 million 🤭 but like saturn | maybe like baseball!steve seeing his girl at his practice and they get shakes after idk 😭🤭

lmao no you’re good soph 🤍 baseball steve makes me dizzy

gn!reader 0.6k words

You honestly didn’t think Steve Harrington could get any hotter. That is until you saw him swinging a baseball bat around like it was a fucking sword. You practically melted on the spot.

You’re sitting in the stands with Lucas as Steve’s practice comes to a close. You’d never admit it to anyone, not even Steve himself, but you’ve practically been drooling over him the entire time. Lucas has been graciously ignoring your obvious infatuation until now.

“Y/N.” He gives your shoulder a shake. “You’re staring.”

You blink. You’d been watching Steve pack up the gear with his team, his hair all sweaty and floppy and his arms practically bursting out of his jersey sleeves. The fabric on his jersey straining as he bends to scoop up a pile of equipment.

“Wasn’t staring,” you lie through your teeth. “Just observing.”

Lucas huffs like he doesn’t believe you, but it’s all in good nature. He knows you could bring up all the times you’ve caught him staring at Max, if you wanted to.

“Whatever you say.” Lucas rolls his eyes and stands up. “M’gonna go see where Max went. See you around, lovebird.”

He shoves your shoulder and you wrinkle your nose at the nickname. He’s only been gone about ten seconds when you hear your name from the pitch.

“Y/N!”

You eyes zero in on Steve, who’s gazing up at you with a hand over his eyes to block the sun. The pitch is mostly empty. You beam and wave, clambering down the rows of seats til you reach the bottom one. Steve jogs to meet you there and scoops you up into his arms when you do, spinning you around in the air til you’re breathless and giggling.

“Steve!” You squeal, hands braced on his firm shoulders.

He laughs from his chest, a lovely, hearty sound, and sets you down on the grass. You’re both smiley as you catch your breath.

“How’d I do today, angel?” He asks, setting his hands on his hips. One of his teammates calls his name from the edge of the pitch. Steve turns and they exchange a wave and then he’s right back in your personal space.

You wrinkle your nose teasingly. He smells like sweat and grass. “I don’t know anything about baseball, Stevie,” you deadpan. “You did look quite handsome, though.”

Steve’s laugh is surprised and fond and makes your chest burn. He shrugs and his grin is staggering. “That’s good enough for me.”

You grin and push yourself up on your toes to kiss him. He meets you halfway with all the eagerness in the world, hands on your biceps and mouth greedy. He kisses you so sweetly you could cry, but with enough fervour that your stomach explodes with butterflies.

When he pulls away you’re gasping for breath. You look up at Steve and find him looking about frazzled as you feel.

“You need to take a shower,” you say, pulling a face. Anything to stop him looking at you like that.

Steve fakes hurt and rolls his eyes. “You’re such a priss,” he says with less heat than a box of ice.

You scoff and shove him in the chest. He doesn’t move an inch.

“Seriously,” you say. “You’re gross and sweaty.”

He is sweaty, but he’s far from gross. He’s hot, with his damp hair and his burly arms, grass stains on his knees and a stripe of sweat on his forehead. It’s driving you mad.

Steve huffs. “Can we at least get milkshakes first? I promised Lucas and Max I’d drive them to the diner after.”

You sigh. There he goes again, using the kids as an excuse to get what he wants. The worst part is, it works on you.

“Fine,” you say begrudgingly. Or not so much. Honestly, you wouldn’t mind if Steve stayed like this forever.

[arokel]

If you're still taking prompts, the Bobby Moch is chatty in bed tag needs more content.

sorry this is so late, anon! but you are absolutely correct; I've been derelict in my duty. hopefully this makes up for it <3

(nsfw under the cut or read on ao3)

Title: Chatty Pairing: Don Hume/Bobby Moch Rating: E Tags: PWP, Dirty Talk, Coming Untouched, Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs Notes: written in an hour and a half and unbeta'd, so my apologies for any typos!

Bobby has never been one to keep his eyes open during sex. He himself enjoys being watched, but - selfish as it may sound - he’s always found it too difficult to focus on his own pleasure enough to come and to look at his partner at the same time.

He’s sure giving it his best shot with Don Hume, though.

Every time he feels his eyes start to flutter shut he forces them back open, forces himself to focus on Don’s sweaty curls as they flop over his forehead to tickle Bobby’s stomach, on Don’s strong hands where they grip tight onto Bobby’s waist. He’ll come eventually if Don’s ferocious determination to make him feel good is any indication; he doesn’t want to miss a second of this in the meantime.

It’s easier if he narrates what he sees, lets his mouth run away with him as it so often does in other circumstances. Ordinarily he would lock that part of himself away in bed for fear of being a distraction, but here, too, Don is different. Far from finding it irritating, he seems to love the stream of praise and nonsense blanketing the air between them, drowning out the slick noises of his mouth and hands on Bobby’s skin.

“Fuck, Donny, sweetheart, there, just like that,” Bobby murmurs, as Don sucks a mark into the delicate skin just beside his hipbone. “How’d you know I’d be sensitive there, huh?”

Don hums noncommittal and scrapes his teeth over the darkening bruise. That’s alright; Bobby can talk enough for the both of them if that’s what Don wants.

“Or did you do it just ‘cause you wanted to? I bet it’s torture for you just like it’s torture for me, sitting across from you near-naked every day. Did you sneak looks at my hips when I wasn’t looking, imagine pulling my shorts down and getting your mouth on me?”

“Bobby,” Don gasps. He mouths hotly at Bobby’s stomach, breath coming shaky and fast. What Bobby can see of his forehead is bright red. “Yeah, I - I did.”

That’s enough to make Bobby’s next inhale a little shakier, too. He shifts his hips suggestively until Don gets the hint and returns to his open-mouthed exploration of Bobby’s abdomen and thighs, skirting around Bobby’s obvious erection - not because he doesn’t want to touch it, Bobby suspects, but rather because he’s waiting for a sign of encouragement before he does.

Bobby will gladly give him that.

“I thought about it too,” he says, arching into the press of Don’s lips against his inner thigh, just brushing the coarse hairs leading up to the base of his cock. “Or not even pulling them down, maybe, but if you’d be so desperate for it that you’d just get on your knees and put your mouth on me even like that, suck me through my shorts till I come and then -”

Don whines, high and desperate, and then sure enough his mouth is there, gliding hot and damp along the side of Bobby’s shaft like one long, smeary kiss. He follows the path with his tongue, curling, tasting - more for his own enjoyment than for Bobby’s, but his blissful groan and the concentrated furrow in his brow more than make up for the lack of direction.

“Yeah, fuck, kiss me like that, so good, even hotter than I imagined, want you to taste all of me,” Bobby babbles.

He spreads his legs wider to let Don settle in between them properly - it means that his calf is no longer situated for Don to grind against absentmindedly as he has been doing, but with the exception of one small, mournful noise Don doesn’t protest the loss. Instead he sets to mapping Bobby’s cock with his tongue just as he has the rest of Bobby, ticklish and maddeningly light.

Bobby endures the anticipatory torture of it until his mouth once again gets the better of him. “C’mon, suck me, put those pretty lips on me and let me feel you, you were made to look just like this, Christ, I can barely hold it together and if you don’t get your mouth on me properly I might - god, yes, Don, that’s perfect, you’re everything I dreamed -”

Don gives an agonized moan that reverberates around the head of Bobby’s cock where it rests just inside the heat of his silken mouth. His tongue laps clumsily at the slit and his suction is soft and uncertain, and Bobby might just go out of his mind with how perfect it is. He wants Don to know it, too.

“Just like that; it’s so good, you’re so - do you like that? Me in your mouth, so hard all because of you, because of how good you’ve made me feel?”

Bobby doesn’t mean it as a genuine question needing an answer, but, to his surprise, Don groans again and sinks further down on Bobby’s cock as if to say, yes, I like it, I want more of it. His hips move jerkily, thrusting against air. Bobby can’t catch his breath.

“That’s good, that’s beautiful,” he manages, as Don grows bolder and the circle of his lips tightens around Bobby’s shaft. “I’m glad you like it, ‘cause I’m never gonna stop thinking about it now; god, I wanna kiss my come off your lips, lick it out of your mouth -”

Don makes an urgent sound and pulls back - but not off - so that his lips brush the head of Bobby’s cock as he shapes his words. “Bobby, wait, I’m so close, I can’t -”

His restless hips have settled into a smooth rocking motion, powerful thighs flexing and trembling. Bobby wants to feel that force and rhythm thrusting inside him as soon as possible. But it’s clear Don can’t wait that long.

“Of course you are, sweetheart; we’ve waited so long,” Bobby coos, half-delirious at the sight and the thought of experiencing it for himself. It makes him even less aware of his words than normal.

Don moans helplessly and takes Bobby in again, but he seems too overwhelmed to do more than suckle weakly as his hands clench and unclench on Bobby’s hips. Bobby gently pries them loose and holds them in one of his own, petting Don’s hair back from his forehead to reveal his hazy, watery eyes.

“It’s okay if you’re close. I want to see you come. Hell, the sight of that’ll probably set me off too.” He hisses as Don’s grip on his hand tightens painfully, feeling the tremor wracking Don’s entire frame. “Will you do that for me? Touch your pretty cock and let me see?”

The moan that tears itself from Don’s throat is, perhaps, to be expected. The full-body shudder that overtakes him, the frantic rocking of his hips, the splatter of warmth against Bobby’s thigh - all that is a revelation.

“Holy fuck,” Bobby breathes. He has no other words.

Don twitches and whimpers through the aftershocks, and all the while his mouth never leaves Bobby’s cock. He isn’t sucking - his lips are parted on gasping breaths and the wetness of his saliva is dripping down Bobby’s shaft to dampen his pubic hair - but it’s so fucking erotic that Bobby thinks he might come nearly untouched too.

Finally, the shivers cease, and Don pulls away with an expression like chagrin. He directs an unintelligible mumble towards Bobby’s stomach.

“What’s that?” Bobby says. He’s still holding both of Don’s hands, so he lets go of one and laces his fingers together properly with the other.

Don lifts his head at the nudge of Bobby’s finger to his chin, embarrassment writ clearly in his features. “I said, oh god.”

“Hey, don’t be like that. It wasn’t embarrassing; it was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen,” Bobby says. He traces the curve of Don’s swollen lips. “What did it? Did you like sucking my cock that much?”

“No, I - well, yes, but it was more… just you, talking to me,” Don says.

“I talked you off? Oh, Donny, you have given me a dangerous piece of information. I’ll have to watch my words next time, though, because I do want to watch you touch your pretty cock. Almost as much as I want to see your hips moving like that inside me and not just air.”

“Stop, Bobby, I can’t come again,” Don says, strangled. “You’re going to drive me crazy.”

His free hand inching once more towards Bobby’s cock belies his protests.

Bobby pushes his hand away, gently, and replaces it with his own. “You sure you want me to stop? ‘Cause I’m close too and I’m not sure I can keep my mouth shut through all that, especially when I’ve got you here making such a pretty picture for me to look at while I do.”

Don whimpers again. Bobby laughs.

“You just stay right there and let me do all the work.” He shifts slightly so that Don’s head rests more comfortably on his thigh and Bobby’s arm won’t whack him in the face as he begins to stroke himself. It’s an easy glide, still wet from Don’s drooling orgasm, and Bobby feels himself immediately close again.

“Don’t get me wrong, I love having your mouth on me, but I missed seeing you,” he says conversationally. His breath hitches on the next sentence, though, and once it’s gone he can’t seem to get it back again. “You’re the most - the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, and - I meant what I said; I wanna see you feeling good, want to watch your eyes when you fuck me and see your face when you come, see what you look like when I suck your cock and if maybe you like listening to me moan as much as you like listening to me talk…”

His words are growing shaky and so is his hand, but before he can slow down or request Don’s assistance there is a broad, warm palm covering his and Don is grinning sleepily up at him.

“You’re five steps ahead, with all your imagining,” Don says, fond and amused. “How about you just focus on me right now and let me make you feel as good as you made me feel?”

Bobby finds himself nodding wordlessly. Don doesn’t ask him to let go of his cock, so Bobby lets Don’s hand guide him as they move together, and the new pace and firmness of it has him writhing, trying not to dislodge Don from his thigh and biting his lip to stop things much more embarrassing than filthy words from slipping out. It doesn’t work.

“Don, please, please, I want - I’m so close, god, so - ah, I - fuck, you - fuck -”

He isn’t proud to admit that he comes with a scream.

“Holy shit,” Don says, wiping his hand on Bobby’s other thigh, mingling Bobby’s come with the drying remnants of his own. He looks just as worshipful as Bobby felt watching Don come undone. “Yeah, I do like listening to you moan.”

“Shut up,” Bobby groans, finally allowing himself to close his eyes for just a moment while he catches his breath. He feels incredible.

He opens them again to watch as Don grins and props himself up on one arm to trace idle patterns across Bobby’s stomach, unrepentant.

“No way. You’re a menace; why didn’t you warn me you were chatty? I wouldn’t have come so quick if I’d been prepared for it.”

“I’m not, usually. Most people don’t like it,” Bobby says. Any sting he might have felt in admitting it is erased by the slow creep of Don’s fingers up his sternum until they can cup his cheek and turn his face down to meet Don’s gaze.

Don shakes his head, grinning even wider. “Crazy. Good thing you’re sleeping with me now, then.”

Bobby can do nothing but lean down and smother that grin with a kiss.

“Oh, are you a fan? I hadn’t noticed.”

“You shut up,” Don tells him, nose scrunching against Bobby’s cheek as he keeps smiling even through the kiss. “For now.”

[b4mpyre-k1zz3s]

“Love is Better When You Share.”

Y/N, after being sent on a business trip to Helsinki, Finland, has a fated meeting with two men in a hotel bar that would change her life forever.

Bam Margera X Fem!Reader X Ville Valo

(Fluff)

3.2k Words

Warnings: Suggestive content, crude language, smoking, alcohol, descriptions of injuries, flirting, jealousy

An: Wow! I actually started writing this one day before Bam and Ville had their little reunion earlier this week, so about good timing! XD I really tried to create a dichotomy between Bam and Ville in this fic because I think they’re so different but, at the same time, so similar! Aaa I’m in love with both of them heheh anyways I’m getting back to my requests so thank you all for all of them and please keep sending them! :)

If you were stuck in Nowhere, Helsinki for the next week, the least you could do was get drunk. It was funny how business trips always led you to the hotel bar, you thought, nursing the drink in your hand. It was a crowded, dingy place, but you worked with what you could get. Through the dimness of the bar, you could still make out the silhouette of the tall stranger brushing against your arm as he took a seat next to you. A smile played on his delicate, pale features as he looked down at you, thin fingers just barely resting on the darkness of the bar top. He didn’t even have to say anything and you were charmed, but maybe that was the tequila talking.

And before this handsome stranger could open his mouth to say anything, the bartender slid you another drink, wordlessly pointing a thick finger at someone down the bar, presumably the man who bought you said drink. Both of you glanced in the direction he pointed. Of course, you weren’t going to turn it down, but the timing was funny. You heard a snicker before he finally spoke up in a thick accent, “You know, I was about to ask if I could buy you a drink myself.” He took a sip of his beer, grasping the bottle with dark painted nails, “Guess that won’t be a problem anymore.”

You raised an eyebrow, “You speak English?” His words were deep and sweet but very articulate, a contrast to the tight lipped hotel concierges and shop owners you had met thus far. He flashed a sliver of teeth, “You’re an American?” The wit and the speed at which he replied to you was amusing, and you pressed, “How’d you know?” Glancing down the bar, then back to you, he replied nonchalantly, “It’s your accent. Well, that and your assumption that I didn't speak the language.” He seemed more endeared than offended at the cultural misunderstanding, pointing a thin digit down the bar and adding, “You know, I actually have a friend from America with me tonight.”

Oh, it was the guy who bought you that drink. You chuckled, squinting to see if you could make out his face and decide who was the hotter of the two, “What? You two havin’ some contest t’see who could get my number first?” The knowing look on his face told you everything you needed to know. It was immature, sure, but at the same time it was kinda cute. Nonetheless, he justified it, “Well, it was his idea in the first place. He refused to believe that I could get the phone number of the hottest girl at the bar tonight- care to prove him wrong?”

“I think I’d like to. Who are you, by the way?” You didn't show it but god, he was killing you. The words fell off of his tongue low and gentle, like he didn’t want anyone else to hear his musings, “Oh, I’m nobody, darling.” He added hastily after, “My name is Ville. And yours…?” Ville. The name sounded nice in your head, like some kind of European prince. You replied simply, “Y/N.” Ville seemed to smile hearing your name fall from your lips, “What a beautiful name.” He was Prince goddamn Charming. All he needed to do was hand you a glass slipper.

Before you could even start to respond your attention was drawn to a man walking up next to Ville, looking at you. “How’s the drink?” He raised an eyebrow at you from behind a pair of $300 sunglasses- the guy from the end of the bar. “Oh, it’s great! Thanks!” He grinned, one of his sharp canines glinting in the light, “I’m Bam, by the way.” Weird name, you thought, but you brushed it off. Leaning a little closer, his cockiness shone through in the tone of his voice, “Listen baby, I got a lambo out front here. Y’wanna come take it for a spin with me?” From the corner of your eye you caught Ville giving him the side eye of the century. Weighing your options, you made an excuse to save face, “Maybe not tonight- I got work in the morning.” Only then did Bam take a seat next to you, sitting with his back to the bar and his shoulders pulled back. “When’d you get off, then?”

“Around five tomorrow.” Reaching into your pocket, you grabbed two business cards with your number on them and passed them out to the men.

Well, he wasn’t lying about the Lamborghini. The roar from the engine made your stomach get that weird feeling, making every square inch of your body vibrate. Bam really put the speedometer to use, and you were equally as nervous as you were thrilled. It felt a like a roller coaster, zig-zagging up treacherous curved mountain turns as he rested one muscular hand on the steering wheel, the light from the street lamps that dotted the highway glinting off of his silver rings. Your gaze trailing up his forearm, you found your eyes fixated on a multicolored bruise framing a mangled pink mess of a scar, covering most of his elbow in shiny, raised tissue. The car ride itself was wordless, but anything spoken wouldn't have been heard anyway over the heavy metal music blasting through the speakers. Fast music, fast cars, and fast company. God, you felt alive.

“So, what’s this?” Bam glanced over at you as you asked the question, putting the car into park and swinging his legs out of the open door. “The best date of your life.” You couldn’t help but snicker a little at his bravado right out of the gate. Getting out, you noticed that you had left the busy city center a while ago and were instead nestled in the dense thicket of trees that made up the Finnish countryside. A cold, dry breeze blew the scent of spruce trees past you as you followed on his heels.

You two walked into the restaurant and you were seated in the blink of an eye. Bam just shot the Maitre D a look and you had the best table in the house or, at least, you could only assume they were the best from the view you had. Overlooking a cliff, all you could see for miles from your terrace level seats was water the same crystal blue color as his eyes. It was like magic. “Oh my god. How did you get all this?” There must’ve been stars in your eyes as you took in everything around you, but Bam just chuckled, “Well, back in America, I guess you could say I’m pretty damn famous.” Clearly not famous enough, you thought, because you didn’t know him. It took you a few seconds to realize he probably assumed you weren’t American but you still had no clue who he was, so you didn’t stop him.

Taking a sip of the sparkling wine the waiter left, you tilted your head to the side, “So, what do you do?” It almost felt cruel to see the blow that took to his ego but, at the same time, it was fun to watch him scramble, “Well, I’m a skateboarder. A professional one.” You raised an eyebrow, your smile teetering on sinister, “You know, my little cousin does that too. And that pays well?” He seemed to catch onto your game. Glancing to the side, then back at you, he leaned a little bit closer, “I mean, did you see what I drove you here in, Baby? Of course it does!” Bam sat back in his chair, looking up at the waiter as he placed the plates of lobster in front of you two before continuing, “I’ve been in movies, Tv, video games- they make shoes with my name on them for crying out loud.”

As he rambled, your eyes started to drift back to that elbow as it rested on the nice, white tablecloth. Catching you, Bam grinned, holding it up for you to get a better look, “Broke it a week ago. Sixteenth time, actually.” You winced. Maybe he was less of an ego case than you thought. As a breeze blew, swirling his dark curls around, a look of great satisfaction crossed his face when he saw the surprise on yours. “Mmhm. Doctors say if I do it again, the whole ‘things just gonna turn to dust. You can touch it if you wanna.” The rich boy routine didn’t work on you, but this surely did. The injuries made him look grizzled, real rough around the edges. Your curiosity begged you to, so you tentatively reached out a hand and gingerly ran just the tips of your fingers over the raised surface of his skin. Suddenly, Bam drew back his arm, hissing air through his teeth and clutching it dramatically. You hastily began to apologize, “O-oh, I’m so-“ He was laughing.

Bam went on to excitedly show you the raised, earthwormy scars that ran down his arms he acquired from skateboard spills and patches of hair he was missing that made his scalp look like a dog with a bad case of mange. There was a beauty in the fact that he was falling apart, a kind that your fellow diners seemed somewhat disturbed by from the glares they shot at you throught your meal, but you didn’t find yourself caring in the slightest. All you could focus on was your own little world- just you and Bam.

And the end of the night was almost like one of those cute little romance movies, where the guy drops the girl off at her front door under the moonlight and they stare at each other timidly for a while, not sure exactly what to do. “So, uh,” Bam rocked a little on the heels of his chunky skater shoes, his hands in his pockets, “Maybe we can do this again sometime?” As overconfident as he was, it seemed that once things got past the talk, he was a little shy. You smiled, “Sure!” A look of relief crossed his pale face under the golden light of the street lamp, “How’s next week sound?”

“I’m a little busy then. Week after that, maybe?” You didn’t want to tell Bam why, but he already knew.

After you and Ville had dinner together, he said he’d take you to a nightclub. “One of my friends owns this place.” He explained in the taxi ride there, golden light falling on his face, just as quickly fleeing from his features as the car sped through back alley streets towards your destination. “I think you’ll have a spectacular time here tonight, Y/N.” As you pulled up to what could have been an abandoned warehouse, you didn’t really know what to expect, pensively stepping out the door and gazing at the dirty, run down building before you, “You sure this is the place?” He nodded, “Positive, love.”

As walked up to the bouncer, Ville slipped him a 20 euro note and you took the opportunity to give him a good once over in the moonlight. God, he was beautiful, like those paintings of dying Victorian women. His white, just barely toned chest sat beneath a silky black fur coat that hung from his shoulders. You felt a little weird looking at him like that, but it’s not like you could help it. The tight little pair of black leather pants he was wearing weren’t helping your staring problem very much either, especially with how it exposed the tattoo on his lower stomach that he caught you ogling at. Your nervousness seemed to be amusing to him from the way he smiled with only his dark, smoky eyes, the corner of his magenta lips quirking up slightly. He reached out a hand to you and led you in.

It was like you walked through a portal into a whole other word. German techno blasted from giant speakers stacked haphazardly around the club, loud enough to make your ears tickle as you followed closely behind Ville, squeezing through the crowd. Women in latex miniskirts and black corsets would touch him on the shoulder and say lecherous things to him as they passed and seemingly everyone there knew him, offering him high fives and a few ass grabs. It was like he was some celebrity or something. From tall pylons, fire eaters spun flaming rods wrapped in vodka soaked rags and women danced in cages suspended from the ceiling. For you, this was a circus, but for Ville, this was just Saturday night. Sitting down at the bar, he lit himself a cigarette and took a drag, glancing at you, then the red leather stool next to him. You sat.

“First time at this kind of place?” Ville turned toward you with that coy, knowing smile. “Yeah…” From the corner of your eyes, you caught Ville propping his heels up on something dark just out of your line of sight, making you do a double take. Your jaw went slack, “Is- is that a gimp?” He recrossed his ankles, nodding, “Well, my feet were getting tired.” The way he just didn’t seem to give a shit about anything was so entrancing to you. Smiling, he tilted two of his pale fingers towards you, passing you his smoldering, magenta stained cigarette. You took it without a second thought, not even mentioning that you didn’t smoke. Ville smirked at your inexperience as you coughed after you took that first drawl. Sliding off of the stool in one motion, he kicked his feet off of his footrest, “I’m going to hit the men’s.” Nodding, your gaze lingered on his leather clad behind as he walked away from you, pressing the cigarette back to your lips.

Huh, maybe Ville had the right idea with this place. It made you wonder what kind of life he lived to get him into these places. Pondering whether he was a musician or some sort of male stripper, your thoughts were interrupted by an unfamiliar voice behind you, “Hey, baby. What’s a girl like you doin’ in a place like this?” Turning arround, you went to confront the creep hitting on you but were a little taken aback by the fact he was less than a foot away from you, staring you right in the eye and making your words escape you for a moment.

Your speechlessness wasn’t in any way aided, however, when Ville made his very timely return, sliding right between you and the guy. His chest pressed against your body in a way that made you rethink what you were okay with doing on the first date. He slid his knee in between your legs, pinning you to the bar like a butterfly on an insect spreading board. His long, dark hair just barely brushed against your cheekbones as he leaned down to speak to you, so close that you could’ve sworn he got some of his lipstick on you, the warmth from his bare torso radiating onto your body, “Let’s get out of here.”

“Yeah.”

Lingering in front of the hotel, you both were slick with sweat from the steamy night you had, basking in the afterglow. Drinking a little too much, dancing a little too close, and sharing just a few too many things. You couldn’t forget it if you got amnesia. Ville waited in front of you patiently, looking up at you with those deep eyes that just made you melt. “I had a really great time tonight, Y/N.” You nodded back, your heart picking up a little, “Yeah, me too.” He seemed to wait for you to do or say something, but you couldn’t really tell what he was expecting. Reaching a hand out, you brushed a cold palm against his smooth chest, feeling him take a quick breath at your touch. Still not pulling away, you leaned forward just an inch- all that you needed for your lips to meet his cheekbone, his skin soft and warm. From your peripheral, you could see him glance up at you with his nearly black pupils as you slowly pulled away, walking back inside and leaving him on the sidewalk.

You knew what you were doing when you invited the two of them to the bar that night, and you could tell your plan was working. “It’s not fair, dude! You get all the hot chicks!” Bam sneered, beer in hand. You watched as Ville leaned on one elbow, turning to him, “Well, I’m not stopping you from getting any of the ugly ones.” It really was fun to watch them bicker from your spot at the bar like you weren’t even there even though you were sitting directly between the two of them.

It was only about fifteen minutes into their couple’s quarrel that either one of them acknowledged you. “Come on, Y/N.” Bam nudged you, “It’s not like y’called us here to watch us bitch with each other.” A playful smile danced on your lips as you batted your eyelashes, playing coy and running a finger along the rim of your glass, “Well, I was thinking about you two, and I realized something.” You glanced over at Ville, then back at Bam, feigning melancholy, “I just don’t think I can choose between you two.”

Besides how much fun it was to play with their emotions like this, especially when Bam gave you that wide eyed, slack jawed look as you broke his poor little heart, you weren’t entirely lying. Both men, over the course of two dates, made your day to day life of work and dull travel feel magical. Bam, and the excitement and thrill that followed him wherever he went, fulfilled the adrenaline fix you didn’t even know you needed. Ville, on the other hand, with his mystery and sensuality, opened your eyes to this world you couldn't even imagine before meeting him. Though in different ways, you were equally addicted to spending time with each of them. Your little show you were putting on was just you buying time until one of them worked something out.

“You know, I have an idea.” Ville spoke up, breaking the silence, “I think there’s an arrangement where everyone gets what they want here.” You breathed a sigh of relief, your prayers being answered. Still, you were a little skeptical. Bam sighed, shooting him a ‘you’re kidding me’ look. Ville explained, leaning towards you while making half lidded eye contact, “For example, when you want to spend time with me, then you can spend time with me, and if you want to spend time with Bam- well, I wouldn’t judge you- but you could spend time with him.” He took a sip of his drink, getting a little glint in his eye, “And, of course, if you want to spend time with both of us…well, I wouldn’t be one to stop you.” It took you a few seconds to realize what he was implying by ‘spend time with’, your cheeks turning a little rosy as he chuckled, “I mean, love is better when you share, right?”

[poeticallyspiteful]

hi!!! new follower here but could u pls write something for rafe where reader is not having the greatest day (sick, period, just plain sad etc etc) and rafe doesn’t really know how to make her feel better, so he goes and buys a plethora of gifts for her ranging from flowers to chocolate to (maybe) lingerie etc etc etc u get the vibes

*maybe reader sees his google history and it’s him looking up what to get someone when they feel like crap hehehehe*

all for you

rafe cameron x reader

fluff

cw: the common cold, one sexual innuendo/joke, mentions of a hypothetical meth lab…anyways, ooc rafe (as always??)

summary: reader feels sick, rafe don’t like it, yadayadayada they very cute and stuff <33

notes: HEY BABE, thank you so much for the request and i rlly hope you enjoy!! this was so fun to write and i think it turned out real cute <33

16+ please!!

“rafe, what—”

“shush.”

rafe kicked the door shut behind him, arms too full of shit to use his hands. four different types of soup sat piping in a paper bag hanging off his right hand, picked up fresh from ‘the wreck’, while three boxes of the softest kleenex known to man sat in a plastic back wrapped around the same wrist. this load was nothing compared to his left arm, which supported two overflowing bags full of goodies and medicine to help mend your ailment:

the absolute terrifying blight of the common cold.

but to rafe, this was enough to warrant a soup kitchen delivered to your door. it’s not like the extravagance was a burden on him anyways; he could’ve bought every pint of ice cream and every bag of cough drops in the store and it wouldn’t make a dent in his back account.

“rafe, honey,” you laughed, wiping under your stuffed up nose. “i just asked for cough drops. what’d you do, looks ‘em up on web md?”

rafes eyes went wide, and he looked at you like bewildered deer in headlights. “h-how’d you know that?”

you snorted. “it was a joke, but the reality of it is much more funny.”

“mhm,” rafe hummed sarcastically, tossing three flavors of cough drops onto the comforter. “and for the record, i got your cough drops; the top brand for sinus and cough relief, according to google.”

you had called rafe at 9:30 that morning, asking him to bring you some cough drops as your throat was hurting, and your roommate had left for a vacation two days ago. and of course, rafe being the doting, overprotective, boyfriend he was, was tripping over his own feet to get to his car.

you gave a lopsided frown. “this is too much, baby, you don’t have to spend all this money on me.”

rafe shot you a look somewhere between amusement and concern. scoffing, he started organizing his purchases on the bench by the foot of your bed.

“you should really stop saying things you know aren’t true,” he chided, carefully pulling open a cup of chicken and rice soup and stirring. he looked up at you through hooded eyes and grinned at the sheepish smile on your face. “i’ll spend as much money on my girl as i please.”

“well you please a lot.”

rafe laughed softly, towering over you as he lifted the spoon to your lips, gentle as ever. “do i now?”

you felt your cheeks burn, and not just because of the soup, which you accepted gratefully.

“thank you,” you mumbled, face getting impossibly hotter as he sat down on the bed and continued to spoon feed you, brushing hair off of your forehead all the while.

“you’re very welcome, sweet girl,” he whispered, voice still raspy from sleep in a way that made your stomach erupt in a swarm of warmth.

hesitantly, you leaned into his chest, accepting his arm around your shoulders and the kisses he left in his path up your jaw and the side of you face. with one final brush of his lips on your hairline, he spoke.

“i’ve got lots more soup, and some snacks, ice cream, enough drugs to start a meth lab—”

“rafe!” you giggled, but he shushed you, laughter bubbling in him just the same.

“it’s all good, lovely, no underground drug rings here,” he reassured, entire body loosening as it settled into his happy space; you.“‘s all for you.”

all for you.

[fantem1903]

Some Rotten Man: A Book of Bad Decisions by Maggie Clef (Preview)

The following is the first half of the prologue to the upcoming SCP Wiki interactive novel, Some Rotten Man, starring the Baddest Man in Hell, Alto Clef.

The story is a part of the W H O R E O F B L O O D canon, and should be considered separate but adjacent to other commonly known depictions of Clef, the Goddess, and SCP-166, as it was made from what @ashes-and-pudding and I loved most about the characters, and made into a new take.

With that all said, I hope you enjoy a preview of his better days:

(1686 words)

A strong breeze graced the two children on the cliff. One a kid, and one a fawn.

The kid stalked through the brush like a hunter, his two small hands in the shape of pistols. His footsteps were light. He knew his target was near. “Ya can’t hide forever, ya know I’ll getcha.” The warm, bright Grecian sun made his black fur feel even hotter. Sweat trickled down and stung his eye. “Come on out! No sense bein’ a sore lo-” The kid bleated slightly, as he felt two fingers press against his lower spine. “Bang! Gotcha!” The fawn smiled. The kid spun around just a little too slow as the fawn pressed two fingers against his chest. She mimicked the sounds of a gun firing.. Each imaginary bullet punctured the kid’s torso. “Gotcha again! You’re dead twice now. Good job.”

“Nuh-uh! I got armor!” The kid said, puffing his chest out. “I’m bulletproof!”

“Wh- no! That’s cheating! How’d you get that?!” She huffed, pouting as she looked at him in disbelief. “Cuz I’m the bad guy! I stole it offa lawman I shot down.”

“That’s not fair!”

“Yeah it is! I earned it! From when m-” The kid couldn’t finish. The fawn tackled him to the ground as she cracked a smile. “Shut up!” She laughed as they both hit the ground. “I put you in the ground fair and square, Alto!” The kid blows a raspberry at her. “Fuck you, Gaea.”

The fawn slapped him lightly across the snout, causing the kid to bleat. “Watch your mouth, Alto! I’m still the law around here, and I can bury you again.” “Yeah, and I’m an outlaw! No one kills the bad guy, he’s too tough!” “I just did!” “Well then why am I still here, dummy.” The kid stuck his tongue out at the fawn before she jabbed him right in the snout. “Ow! Quit it, I’m sensitive there.” She giggled. “Aw, looks like Mr. Outlaw is sensitive isn’t he?” The kid lapsed into an embarrassed but comfortable silence as they laid side by side, staring up at a blue summer sky. The cry of gulls filling the air.

It had been a few moments until the fawn broke the silence. “Hey Alto? Do you ever miss the Seventh Circle?” The kid was quiet for a bit. Dark memories lapped at the edge of his mind. “Naw… I- We weren’t very happy there. I just- I miss my family, I guess. The ones who didn’t make it, I mean.”

The fawn was silent, not sure what to say. “… How many?”

“... A lotta ‘em…” He sniffed, trying to hide it from her, despite already noticing. “I, uh, didn’t used to be the youngest, ya know.” 

“… I’m so sorry, Alto.” She sat up, placing a supportive hand on his knee. The kid sat up, and looked off to the side. “Ain’t nothin’ you gotta be sorry for. You weren’t the ones that killed ‘em… but thanks.”

“Of course. I’m your friend, that’s what I’m here for.” She gave a reassuring smile. “At least you’re safe here, right?”

“Yeah… Yer safe with me too, ya got that? I ain’t lettin’ nothin’ happen to you.” He put on a tough look, the best a boy could do at his age. Even if it was all smoke, the fawn still smiled and drew the kid into a warm embrace. “Well, thank you for keeping me safe, Mr. Bad Guy.” The kid blushed as he felt her arms around his neck. He gingerly returned it with his arms around the small of her back. The fawn wished in her heart that he’d never let go. The kid broke the hug first, as he remembered what he spent all of last night doing. “Hey, uh… I made ya a lil somethin’.”

“Oh yeah? Like what?” The fawn tilted her head.

“C’mon, I left it over here so we wouldn’t mess it up when we were playin’.” He stood up, gave his hand to the fawn to pull her up to his level. He brought her near the edge of the cliff, where they often sat. “Ok, you wait here, just close your eyes, and hold out your hand. I’ll be right back.” “Alright!” She waited as she was told to. She could hear him curse under his breath in the distance, and fumble a bit. “You, uh, doing okay back there, Alto?”

“Yeah, yeah, just- fuck, hold on, I messed something up.” He responded, walking back over to her. Gaea could feel something land in her hand. “Alright, open yer eyes!”

She did. What lay in her hands was the worst flower crown she had ever seen; poorly knotted Bear’s Breeches.

“I hope ya like it!” The kid smiled, proud of his handiwork.

“I… I love it.” She looked up, giving him a genuine smile. She donned the crown alongside her fledgling antlers. Or rather, tried to, as it immediately fell apart.

“Aw shit! Come on!” The kid groaned, embarrassed. “I ain’t no good at this, am I?”

“Alto, don’t be so hard on yourself, okay? You know I still love it.” She sat down at the edge of the cliff, gathered the flowers, and got to work. “Here, we can fix it together. Come on, sit down with me, alright?” “Yeah, sure, I ain’t… very good at makin’ shit.” He sighed, sitting down and letting his legs swing off the side of the cliff. “I uh… hope it ain’t too shitty or nothin’.” “Not at all!... You uh… chose a heck of a flower to make this out of… We’d have to get rid of some of this mess…” She held it up for the kid, stripping the flower of the superfluous petals. ”Like this, see?”

The kid nodded and watched intently. “When you’re done with that, can I try again?”

“Of course! Almost done.” She smiled, handing the prepped flowers over to the kid. “There you go! Now, you just gotta put those stems through those stems, and keep on going till you reach around to the start.”

The kid focused on threading the stems through the other stems, the fawn only occasionally interjecting to fix a mistake or two. Soon enough, the kid wrapped the crown around the fawn’s head to measure, closed the loop, and placed the much-improved and much more stable flower crown on her head.

“There you go! See? Easy, right?” She smiled, bringing her hands together in a clap.

“Yeah, you’re really good at this… guess it comes free with bein’ a nature god.” He playfully punched her shoulder.

“Maybe, but I also just like making stuff in general.” She giggled, and put a single flower in-between the kid’s long ears.. “... Especially if it’s for you.”

The kid looked away and blushed hard. “... Thank ya, Gaea. I… can’t really do much. I’m not good at a lotta things. Besides, ya know.” He shaped his hand into a pistol and went ‘bang’. An imaginary bullet pierced the heart of a gull flying high overhead. “I just- I wanna take care of you, I guess. Like how you do for me.” “Yeah and I think you’re doing a great job.” The fawn hugged the kid’s arm. Her head rested on his shoulder as the both of them looked at the sea. The two enjoyed the silence. The cold breeze of the open air and the warmth of their bodies right next to each other. “... Hey Alto?” “Yeah?” “What do you wanna be when you’re older?” “I told ya, didn’t I?” The kid smiled, wide and bright. “I’m gonna go back to the Seventh Circle. And when I do, I’m gonna be the Baddest Man in Hell. I’m gonna show those rent-a-cops with their fuckin’ tacked on tin stars who’s hot shit.” “... Why?” The kid blinked. “Huh?” “Why do you wanna be ‘Bad Man’ anyways?” The kid had a fire in his voice as he spoke. A fire that always made the fawn weary. “I like you the way you are already.” The kid was quiet for a while. He looked at the fawn’s worried face. Concern etched all over her pretty eyes. He sighed. “Cuz I’d rather be a bad man than stuck as… ‘river trash’.” He looked away. Embarrassed or maybe just ashamed. “River scum can’t take care of their family, can’t stop when bad men wanna hurt ‘em. River scum can't do shit." “Alto…” The fawn grabbed a hold of the kid’s hand, gently. “And ‘sides…” He turned back to “I was already a bad man before you met me. I might as well try and be the baddest there is.” “... You wanna know something, Alto?” “What’s that?” “I don’t think you’re a bad guy.” She puts another flower on his ear. “I think you just try too hard to be one.”

The kid sat there. And said nothing. He did nothing. He merely looked off to the horizon.

“I hope I’ll always have a place in your life. I don’t want you going away forever.” “Of course you will! When I’m the meanest, baddest sumbitch in Hell, I’ll do whatever I want. I’ll get a whole world just for you! Just for the both of us!”

The fawn giggled. “You don’t gotta! I think I like this world just as it is already.” “Maybe… but I think you deserve better.” “... You know, you can always just stay here, right? You don’t have to go anywhere. You, your family, you’ll always have a place right here, with me.” “Yeah… yeah… I know…” the kid was aloof. His thoughts elsewhere.

The fawn pouted once more, and thought of a way to get him out of his stupor. She leaned in quick, and pecked him right on the cheek.

“Wh-” the kid bleated once more, his face beet-pink. She simply giggled. “C’mon, Mr. Bad Guy. We gotta get dinner ready.”

=========================

I wanna tell y’all a story. A story about my papa. The Gunslinger. The Baddest Man in Hell. Agent Ukulele. Angel Eyes. The Anti-Type Green. Doctor Clef.

This is a story of how he dies.

=========================

Some Rotten Man will release during this Halloween's ANTHOLOGY! Want to read more right fucking now? Hit me up in DMs to become a beta reader!

[ilovebluedilfss]

Lingering Gaze

just lyle and his boyfriend

Lyle watched, his eyes glued to the man before him. Colonel Miles Quaritch. One of the toughest bastards on Pandora, who was currently pacing across the room right infront of him giving the newbies a rundown.

Quaritch was at ease, explaining how he as head of security was running things. He was in his element and god was it attractive.

Lyle couldn’t help the way his pants tightened. His lust growing with every syllable muttered by Quaritch. He felt his skin getting hotter by the second and he imagined all the things Quaritch could tell him to do. He thought of the way he would feel around him, moaning his name for everyone to hear-

The colonel’s voice was final and firm when he spoke “Dismissed” and Lyle was pulled back to reality. Damn he had to snap out of this. He was Corporal Lyle Wainfleet, second in command to the colonel, he couldn’t afford to think this way.

Lyle would never admit it to anyone but he was absolutely captivated by his superior, in a way that was not so innocent.

The way the man walked with confidence radiating off of him every step. One look could command the room he was in. Even the flex of his arms when he worked out. He was too damn fine and Lyle was obsessed.

Lyle was lost in thought think about how good those pants fit his colonel but was startled to find a hand clap his back “How’d that go Corporal '' the voice sent a shiver up Lyle’s spine. Quaritch looked at him expectantly, taunting him, and wearing a knowing smirk. Lyle felt flustered but he recovered quickly and responded “It went great Sir” he was lying out of his ass because honestly he hadn't paid attention to the majority of quaritch's speech.

He was... preoccupied.

Quaritch laughed before looking around and leaning in. He whispered in his corporal’s ear his low voice shaking Lyle to his core “You don’t have to pretend you were listening. It’s fine, you seemed a little distracted” He let the last word linger in the air before walking away without another word.

Lyle’s face burned with embarrassment. Quaritch had seen him staring but-

oh,

oh.

He knew.

[celestiall0tus]

What If It's Us - Lukim - Syren Song

Table of Contents

            Kim ran to the movie theater to meet with everyone else. His eyes sparkled with hope that Chloe would be there, even though he knew she wouldn’t. It wasn’t her type of movie, but still he hoped to see her there. He grinned at the idea when cold water hit his feet.

            Kim stopped and looked down to see he was in ankle deep water that rose quickly. He grimaced as it overtook him and rose up to the rooftops. He surfaced and looked around to see everything had been flooded to the top of the buildings. Everyone swam over to a nearby rooftop and huddled together as they stared at the flood.

            Kim swam over to one where he threw his duffel bag, hoodie, and shoes onto before he enjoyed a swim. He dove under and marveled at Paris underwater. It carried a peaceful serenity he often found underwater. A slight smile tugged on his lips at the peace until a shadow passed over him. He looked up to see a boat passing through. He surfaced to stare at it when he saw a guy aboard with shaggy black hair with blue dyed tips and dressed in a blue hoodie and white Jagged Stone shirt.

            “Mom! We passed one!” the boy yelled.

            Kim’s eyes widened as he watched the boat stop and the guy threw out a life preserver. Kim clawed at the air as his eyes still on the guy. He snagged it as he was pulled towards the boat and pulled onto it. The guy took the life preserver and smiled at Kim.

            “Hey, you’re alright now. We’ll help get you to a rooftop,” the guy said.

            Kim blinked before his eyes widened. “Oh? Oh! Uh, thanks? Say, what’s your name?”

            “Oh, uh, Luka Couffaine.”

            Kim flashed a smile. “Luka, eh? I’m Kim Chiến Lê Ature.”

            “Kim? Do you go to College Francoise Dupont?”

            “Why, yes, I do. How’d you know?”

            “My sister has mentioned you before.”

            “Sister?”

            “Yeah, Ju-… oh, hello Jule.”

            Kim raised a brow as he looked behind. He jumped as Juleka stared up at him with malic in her eyes.

            “O-oh, hey, Juleka,” Kim said.

            Juleka glared at Kim, then moved to stand beside Luka. Anarka called for Luka and Juleka and they rushed off to help. Kim sighed as he watched Luka leave and Juleka shoot him a final warning glare. Kim rolled his eyes as he leaned on the boat rim.

            Kim didn’t understand the dirty looks he got from Juleka. He was just being nice and talking to her hot brother. Was there anything really wrong with that? He was sure that Luka loved the attention with how attractive he was. A thought crossed his mind as he wondered if Luka was single. He was startled by the thought as he stared into the water.

            Kim hadn’t thought that way about another guy before. Girls, sure. There was Chloe, the hottest girl alive. But there weren’t any guys hotter than him, until he saw Luka. Even Chloe was put to shame before Luka. He pursed his lips and furrowed his brow as he stared into the water. Should he be thinking this? Did he really like guys, or rather Luka? Did Luka like guys? Did he have a chance with Luka? He tried with Chloe, but she always turned him down and Luka was hotter than Chloe. Did he have any chance with a hottie like Luka?

            The boat jerked violently. Kim gasped as he gripped the side. He looked around as the boat was being tipped over. He vaulted over the edge and saw a purple fish girl. He balled his fists and swam towards her as she turned and smiled.

            “Kim! There you are. I’ve been looking for you!”

            Kim furrowed his brow and opened his mouth to speak, but inhaled water. The fish girl approached him and put a bubble around his head. He gasped and took in a breath.

            “I… I can breathe. I can talk!” Kim exclaimed.

            “Kim, will you come with me? I have something I want to show you.”

            Kim glanced back at the boat, then at the fish girl. “Only if you don’t hurt the people on that boat. They’re just trying to help the people caught in the flood.”

            “Of course! I promise I’ll leave them alone.”

            Kim nodded and allowed the fish girl to take him away. She whisked him away to the pool and sat him on the lifeguard tower made into a throne. He watched her for a time before Ladybug and Chat Noir showed up. He helped the heroes defeat Syren, who he learned after the defeat that she was Ondine. He frowned and puzzled over what caused her to be akumatized. Everything seemed fine with her when he left her, so what happened?

            Kim returned to the pool the next day. He arrived early to find out what hurt Ondine. He looked around the lobby, near the changing rooms, then near the pool. He paused when he found a scrap of paper from their game. He took it and saw that Ondine had confessed her feelings to him, but he hadn’t seen them.

            Kim frowned. He liked Ondine, but not like that. She was just his friend, one of his best friends, like Alix and Max. Ondine wasn’t Luka or Chloe, especially not Luka. He would have to let her down, but a part of him feared how she would take it. If it was enough to get her akumatized, would it happen again? Should he even mention it? What was the right option here?

            “Kim?” Ondine asked.

            Kim looked up to see Ondine staring at him and the slip of paper in his hand. He looked down at it and tried to hide it behind his back. Ondine frowned and looked away.

            “I’m sorry for yesterday. I just… I’m sorry.”

            “I… it’s ok. I did hurt you. I didn’t look at this when I should have.”

            “So?”

            “So what?”

            “Do you… do you feel the same way?”

            Kim paused, then sighed. “I’m sorry, I don’t. You’re my friend, just like Alix and Max. I just don’t see you like that. I’m sorry.”

            Tears fell from Ondine’s eyes as she forced a smile. “It’s ok. I… I had to take a chance. I just… I’m sorry I made a fool of myself doing this.”

            “This doesn’t change anything between us, does it? We’re still friends, right?”

            “I… I guess that’s all we’ll ever be.”

            Kim’s heart dropped as Ondine ran off in tears. He sighed, looked at the paper, crumbled it up, and tossed it aside. He changed back into his street clothes and left the pool. He went for a walk and ended up at the Seine. He paused when he saw the same boat from yesterday that Luka was on. He hurried towards it as faint guitar music grew louder. He passed near the boat as he saw Luka on the deck as he played the guitar.

            Kim took a breath as he steeled his nerves. His mind whirled with questions about Luka that he wanted to stop. He needed to know. He needed to take a chance. He took another breath as he approached the boat. He approached from the side that Luka saw him from.

            “Hey, Kim, right?” Luka called.

            “Yup, that’s me. Uh, may I sit with you?” Kim asked.

            “Sure.”

            Kim smiled as he rushed aboard and sat next to Luka. “So, how’ve you been since yesterday? That akuma was something, wasn’t it?”

            “It was a little terrifying, but we knew Ladybug and Chat Noir would save us. Mom just wanted to do her part as well.”

            “That was a brave thing you three did. You were heroes just like Ladybug and Chat Noir.”

            Luka smiled softly. “Thank you, though it was just something small. Nothing like what they do.”

            “Maybe, but it was still amazing. Thank you.”

            Luka’s eyes widened before his face softened again. He smiled and played a relaxing, enchanting melody. Kim listened for a while, lost in the music.

            “You play beautifully,” Kim commented.

            “Thanks, but I can’t take all the credit. This is your melody. This is what I hear.”

            “Wait, it is?”

            “It is. I’ve met only one other person with a melody like this, and I love it.”

            Kim blushed, then coughed. “I… I wouldn’t suppose you’d be interested in doing something, uh, together… would you?”

            “What’d you have in mind?”

            “I don’t know. Uh, maybe a movie together?”

            “Just the two of us?”

            “I… it doesn’t have to be. It could be a group thing if you don’t want it to be a date. I mean… it does sound farfetched, right? A date? Who said that?”

            Luka blinked, then chuckled. “A date it is then.”

            “Wait, really?”

            “Yeah. Tomorrow night sound good?”

            “Y-yeah. Yeah! Tomorrow is perfect. Do I… do I leave now? Could I… could I stay a little longer? Or would it be better if I leave? Is it too awkward if I stay? I don’t want to make anyone uncomfortable.”

            Luka smiled and strummed his guitar. “Relax. You can stay if you’d like. I’d like the company if you did.”

            Kim smiled. “Then I couldn’t dare deprive anyone of company, especially of my own company. Stay I will.”

            Luka chuckled before he played his guitar. Kim sighed and relaxed in his seat as he enjoyed Luka’s music and company.

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[moodymisty]

Warm Hands

Author's Note: Continuing my Wrecker era. Y'all are just along for the ride lmao

I honestly hate this, but it's been taking up space in my wips for too long so I just cranked it out so I can work on other things. I hope at least one person can enjoy it.

Summary: Wrecker has a crush, and it's incredibly obvious.

Relationships: Wrecker/Fem!Reader

Warnings: NSFW, Wrecker doesn’t just eat pussy he eats pussy, Fluff and Spice, Oral, Handholding

Word count: 4875

Ao3 Link

99 doesn’t get shore leave often; And when they do, they more often then not find it getting interrupted by some form of emergency that for some reason, only they can solve.

But right now that isn’t the case, so one of the things they're most eager for is food. Actual food; Not barely qualifying, GAR regulated slop. It's a rare treat, and not any of them would dare give up the opportunity. Not many clones would. And while Tech's been trying to pressure one of them into being an extra set of hands for some upgrades to the ship, pretty much everyone is more concerned about eating than getting a 0.3% increase in hyperdrive performance. Once Tech realizes he’s lost the battle to try and rope in an assistant, Hunter speaks up.

“Fine, let’s get something to eat then. There's gotta be something decent close by.” suddenly, Wrecker bolts upright as if he's been shocked.

“I’ll go!”

And then realizing he had laid it on far too thick, he suddenly becomes overly nonchalant; Crossing his arms and leaning back against the wall of the ship looking in every direction but Hunter’s face.

“If, you need me to.” Hunter furrows his brow, examining the veritable buffet of emotions Wrecker is currently showing. He’s nervous, judging by the increased heartbeat that Hunter can easily hear, more than likely because he’s clearly lying. That thought is further proven right by the way his body looks hotter, as he’s pulling at the collar of his body glove. He's acting like someone being interrogated and he's the one who spoke up.

“What, going to go visit your little ladybird?”

Crosshair is leaned against the co-pilot's seat, now knowing he caught Wrecker in a corner with a single sentence. He’d done well enough hiding it from them for a bit; But Wrecker’s a terrible secret keeper, and once you start pulling on the string…

“W-what? No I-" Wrecker shuts his mouth and looks around for a moment, realizing he’s completely caught. There's no getting out of this one.

“How’d you know?”

“Because he went to find you last time and saw.” Tech speaks up from the pilot's seat, raising his eyebrows. “It doesn’t take an hour and a half to order food.” Wrecker shrinks into his shoulders as much as a man his size can, as he feels three pairs of curious eyes on him. Very curious eyes, as now that the lie -or at least attempt at one- is out of the way, they're all quite curious to know about all of this.

“You've also been communicating via comm message.” That gets a reaction out of Hunter, who glances at Tech and then back to Wrecker. Hunter glares at him, knowing that’s a massive security risk. But it seems Tech had it covered. At least enough so to soothe a bit of Hunter's worries.

“It’s end to end encrypted, so nothing is at immediate risk.” Tech still leans over the armrest and gives Wrecker a stern look anyways.

“But do keep it at a minimum, will you?” Wrecker nods, having been scolded well more than enough for the time being. It's then that Hunter gives in, and shakes his head. He’s going to have to remind himself later to argue with Tech on why he didn’t tell him this was happening, granted it wasn’t the first time Tech had done something of the sort.

“Just, don't take too long."

Instantly Wrecker goes from thoroughly scolded to upright and about ready to bolt, moving to open the gangplank. Hunter was about to tell him to keep a low profile, but he's already a good ways off by the time Hunter opens his mouth. Wrecker doesn't even look back, he's so hyper-focused on his goal now as he goes out of view of the Marauder.

He's glad everything worked out the way it had; As he'd actually already told you he was on his way. If they’d have insisted he stay, it wouldn’t have be out of the question that he’d just fight his way out to go see you. On his path to get where you were both meeting up he ends up wandering an area of upper Coruscant he isn’t familiar with; One that clearly isn't used to seeing clones. At least ones not wearing that distinctive shade of Coruscant Guard red.

And even then, it wouldn't be surprising if they didn't get an overly warm welcome. But Wrecker doesn’t care in the least what they think, and nor do you. But it’s not exactly a secret that clones are barred from most ‘higher brow’ establishments, after all; Though it's not something he's ever had to deal with, or even really had to think about until you.

'Let them stare then,'

Is the main thought he has on the matter, before throwing the thought out completely as he weaves easily through the crowd. He spots you not to long after, and gains a wide smile almost instantly at the sight. You're under one of the awnings of a drink stall, holding something as you look around through the sea of people. He recognizes your coat instantly and comes barreling for you, accidentally knocking a few people aside. They yell at him, but nothing more beyond that. It’s because of that and the paint job on his armor sticking out so much, that you see him approaching. It’s been a long while since you’ve last seen him and you’re eager to finally talk face to face again. You wish they didn’t work him -and all the clones- so hard, as sometimes no matter how hard he tries to hide it, you can tell when Wrecker is beat.

Not this time however, as he comes right for you and swoops you up into a hug, lifting you high up off the ground has his arms tighten around you waist. It’s only after he puts you down and you finally cease your laughing that you can speak to him, a smile hurting your cheeks.

"You're here! It’s been way too long! Here; For you." He eyes the cup you’re holding out for him, while the other clearly for yourself; As he sees the stain where you've already taken a drink.

"Whats this?" Wrecker wouldn't be Wrecker if he refused food, and happily takes it from your hand and downs a huge chug before you actually answer.

“Don’t really know; But it’s pretty good.” It's something he's never tried before, and it's more than good enough to be halfway gone by the time you ask him about tonight.

"So, what did you have in mind for us to do?" Quickly swallowing down his giant mouthful he looks at you confused. "What do ya' mean?" You take a much smaller mouthful, stepping away from the stand as to not clog up the queue.

"You said you had something in mind to do with me when we met up, right? That's what you messaged me." Wrecker, clearly skimming his recent memory, comes up blank. He must've just thrown it out in an attempt to get you to see him. It wasn't like you would've even considered declining, but Wrecker has a bit of trouble thinking before he speaks. He thinks on it for another moment, but comes up completely empty. It makes him a bit bashful, rubbing the back of his neck just about where his chestplate ends.

"Yeah, I got nothin'." It takes you a moment to think something up since he came up blank, but eventually an idea finally comes to mind. It was Coruscant, it wasn’t like there was exactly a shortage of places to go and see.

"I think I have something in mind, if you'd like?" Wrecker instantly takes you up on the idea. He would’ve no matter what; As at the end of the day spending the few moments he had with you was what mattered to him.

"Yeah! Where we goin'?" There's not a ton of places on this level of Coruscant that allows street food stands, but there is a few spots, many of which that won't give a heavy side eye to Wrecker like some other places would.

"How about we get some hot food? I need to hold something to keep my hands warm..." The chill in the air is making your hands cold, rubbing them together as you start walking with Wrecker by your side.

"Won't say no to that; I'm starvin'," Wrecker bemoans his feeling of hunger as you look up at him, passing other residents on the street and watching you rub your hands. When you stop, he moves to grab one and hold it in his own. Him holding it tight quickly makes the chill leave, and you move to take a step closer as you walk and put your other hand over his own. He tries not to react, as you talk while walking. Your hand feels so cute and small in his own, he's trying not to freak out about it.

"They know you're going to be gone for awhile, right?"

Referring to his brothers Wrecker becomes a little nervous at the idea that he's clearly planning to stay longer than what Hunter more than likely had in mind, but he's taking this chance while he has it.

It's not like they're doing anything important anyways; And if something comes up, he's sure they'll comm him. Hopefully.

"Yeah! They know, I... Told them I was comin' to see you."

The food stand you're at has a large amount of fancy shops around it, and they occupy Wrecker's curious gaze while you buy food for the both of you. Once you get it and Wrecker eagerly digs in, he hears you respond to him.

"I hope I'm not stealing you away from anything important, am I?" He instantly shakes his head.

"Nah, we're free men for the rest of the night." You casually mention that you'd like to meet them one day, though the idea is a little nerve wracking at the same time. Afterwards you make a small comment that doesn't mean to sound as illusive as it actually comes out.

"So, I have you all to myself for the night then."

He was supposed to be back by now but, there's no way he's going to turn down you if you want to be with him for longer. After your quiet observation the conversation dies down for a moment and you hold the warm travel cup of food in your hands, the steam wafting in your face.

"You know..." Wrecker perks up at the sound of your voice, and looks at you intently while slurping down another large bite of his food.

"I actually need to head to one of the clone bases for work in a few days. Funny happenstance, right?" It certainly catches his interest for sure, and he quickly swallows his food to speak up.

"We'll be gone by then; They never let us stay here for long."

A shame, you were kind of excited of the idea of Wrecker being there and maybe showing you around for once. But with that idea shot down, you give a smile and look up at him. He looks so cute with the sunset behind him, and you can't help but move a little bit closer to him. The sheer warmth he's radiating in this chill is far too tempting to refuse.

"I'll miss you there, then. Would be nice to have you to show me around."

The energy between you two is changing as your sentence trails off, but it isn't awkward. It's more so of who's going to take the next step first. Your voice has gotten a bit quieter as has Wrecker's, as there's a subtlety that it seems the both of you have caught on to.

It's not the first time you've thought about Wrecker in that way; You've been a little flirty back and forth but nothing as really 'happened' yet. Most of your conversations were over comms for a long while anyways, as he was leagues away after being posted on some other planet.

But you have him all to yourself now, it would be a shame to not finally take advantage of his rare moment of free time.

“It's kind of late... We can, go back to my place If you want.”

Wrecker doesn’t think of a time he was quicker than this, though granted his memory is a little foggy at the moment.

“Y-yeah, sounds good.” ‘Gods’ He thinks; ‘I sound like an idiot.’ You let out a giggle however, so he quickly loses the urge to smack himself upside the head. It made you laugh, so good enough. He's never been that smooth of a talker.

You softly gesture for him to follow you and he instantly does, stopping at the taxi stop and hailing a cab before anyone else manages to. Wrecker struggles to get into it for a moment and it makes you laugh, him almost being too bulky to fit comfortably. But when he does you're both shoulder to shoulder, and you give your address to the driver.

He's never strayed this far from any of the clone bases before, and as the buildings pass by he notices how clean and white they are compared to the lower levels. And you're both not even that high up; There's still leagues of space upward pressing into the sky for the richer elite. Politician and celebrity space, most of it. You've been up there a few times when work required you to and honestly? You'd rather not visit again. It's pretty, sure, but all so glaringly staged.

Lost in your both of your own thoughts it doesn't take too long for you to get to your apartment building, leaving you to quickly pay the fare while Wrecker hops out. The doorman is quite clearly surprised by your new companion but isn't brave enough to comment, and you both shuffle upstairs close beside each other and smiling. There's something almost a bit mischievous about it, in the way you're acting.

Maybe it's the spur of the moment nature of it all, but then again you always seem to feel this way with Wrecker; Like you're floating on air.

Letting yourselves inside Wrecker takes on glance around, and comments as you quickly lock the door behind him.

"Wow uh, this is nice." It really isn't; It's barely three rooms and quite small while you pay a premium for it, but you know where he's coming from. He slows down and seems almost careful, though his voice is still as loud as ever.

"I don't wanna break anythin'..." That's what makes you laugh, taking his hand gently in your own and dragging him in the direction of your bedroom.

"I'll guide you around then, just in case." He lets you lead him, and if you were able to see his face, you'd see the almost starstruck expression. His face feels a little hot, and it's probably more than nervousness now. His eyes glance downwards at the way your hips and ass more as you walk him into your bedroom, unbeknownst to you. He almost has to tear his eyes away from the sight as you speak up.

"I hope that armor isn’t as hard to get off as it looks?"

In your bedroom he watches as you pull off your shawl and throw it aside; But misses the way you glance away a bit nervous at his strong gaze. That same gaze is what keeps him distracted for a moment until he remembers that you'd asked him a question, as you step closer until your chest presses against his own. You had just kicked off your pants, the hem of your top lays just against your thighs as he stutters out:

"Oh! Uhh no it's pretty easy I can get it off in a few-"

He cuts himself off when you start tugging him downward, as no matter what height you are, Wrecker still would have a considerable lead over you. Pressing your lips against his he quickly pushes back, and it's almost enough to make you stumble backwards. But his tight grip on your waist keeps your steady now, as you moan against his mouth. Your fingers attempt to figure your way around his armor but the latches and clips are hidden from view, enough so that it makes you frustrated; Groaning against his lips when you fail to make any considerable progress.

“Yeah, easy. I can’t even figure out where to start…”

Wrecker can't help but laugh, and pulls away just enough to make short work of his chestplate. He peels it off with the ease of a million times done, and after doing so you have to try quite hard to not appear visibly surprised.

Gods, you knew he was built, but seeing him without the chestplate and seeing just how much is startling.

He doesn't let you leer for long as within seconds he's pressing his lips back against yours, and you slowly start pulling him backwards towards your bed. Completely blind once your calves hit the side of it you stumble backwards, and Wrecker goes with the flow and follows you down onto the mattress. His kisses are so sloppy and enthusiastic you can't help but moan and smile against his lips, throwing your top before wrapping your arms around his neck. More than likely your lips are red and puffy now, far into and beyond that ‘well kissed’ look.

The last pieces of his armor are falling to the ground with soft 'thuds' as your hands begin to wander his body, against his arms and collarbone following behind as he frees himself of ever-restricting plastoid pieces. He loves the feeling of your fingers even through the fabric and can’t help but groan in response, especially now that he's free of all his armor; No longer is his cock straining against his tight groinplate.

"You're so soft..." His hand grips your hip and pulls the both of you onto the bed proper, the blankets and sheets wrinkling underneath you not that your legs are no longer awkwardly dangling off the side. The motion almost makes you squeal, given how easy it was for him to just pull you around.

It’s his completely unconscious display of strength that has your heart skip a beat and a gulp of air catch in your lungs, if only for a moment.

"I think you're just so tough."

He chuckles at the compliment, but it gets cut off as you press a kiss to the side of his neck. Your lips are so sweet and soft, feeling your little fingers against his body glove clearly trying to find a seam. Any seam, to try and get the blasted thing off of him. It’s the final piece. But he wants more of you and wants it now, and slowly he pulls away from your face and starts trailing downwards, and you whine as he slips from underneath your hands. They grip at nothing for a moment, as you complain to him:

"Wrecker, take that thing off..."

He's already halfway down your body and seemingly far too distracted by his current goal to do that now, as he manages to make your head go blank when his lips press against the soft skin of your inner thigh. It's surprising how gentle he is; Almost too gentle, as if he's nervous you'll break under his touch.

The muscles of your thigh tense underneath his palm from his surprise kiss, and for a moment he hesitates this largely unknown territory until he sees your eyes looking down at him; Pupils blown out.

You can feel the heat of his skin against you, as his fingers slip between your skin and the fabric of your underwear to slowly pull them off. The cold air hits you with a rush and you shutter, and Wrecker makes you again when his lips finally press against your cunt. He barely gives you time to feel your face heat at how exposed you are, until your mind goes completely blank.

He wastes no time in lapping his tongue between your folds with gusto, deep enough that you can feel his nose pressing against your cunt too. To keep your legs from pressing shut around his head his hands grip your thighs and hold them gently but firm, pressing them as wide apart as they can comfortable go while listening as you writhe and moan underneath him.

Even as you strain against his grip you can’t budge even just a tad; And your enthusiastic reactions only serve to fuel his fire even more. He loves to hear them; Hear that he's doing everything right and making you feel as if he’s the only thing in the galaxy.

"Mmm, you taste good."

His voice is muffled and almost wet sounding, and you were barely able to understand through all of it and the blood thumping in your ears. Your back just barely arches up off the bed before flopping down again, panting as you attempt to push your hair away from your eyes.

“Oh gods, Wrecker-”

It’s so much at once; your heels are digging into the sheets, hands gripping air fumbling for something, anything, to hang onto. His tongue laps at your entrance just teasing you before it flicks against your clit, almost like torture as to how fast the pressure fills your gut.

It seems all of his daydreaming while attempting to sleep in the Marauder perhaps paid off a bit, by how he’s seemingly able to make you writhe against his mouth like this.

As your thighs flex underneath his palms he grips them harder; Pushing them wide enough apart to be just before uncomfortable before keeping them firmly in place, while your chest heaves up and down with panting breaths and cries.

Wrecker can’t help but moan against your cunt following your body as you move in every direction, as he teases you to your peak and over the edge. He feels the way your cunt tightens and flutters against his mouth, leaking even more as you cum against his face. While his mouth slows he still teases you through it, up until your hips are twitching slightly and he can hear you whining about the borderline over-sensitivity.

He wipes his mouth, though some of the shine of your juices still remains. It’s against his lips and the taste lingers in his mouth, with zero complaints.

“Maker, I can’t-” You pant, chest heaving. He’s completely wiped you out; You can’t remember a time you’ve ever felt this limp after sex. “I can’t feel my left foot.”

It’s almost comedic how Wrecker goes from hooded, lustful eyes to looking at you to startled, checking over you.

“Are you ok?! I-” You manage to stop him just before he moves, laughing.

“I’m fine, I’ve just… Maker; I’ve never cum that hard before. Not even close.”

You're content to lay back and pass out, leg still tingling, until you realize that you'd barely even touched Wrecker, after he stirred you up so much. Quickly you wobbly attempt to lean up, trying to peel off his blacks now that you have the chance as he's attempting to wiggle on closer to you.

"I- I'm so sorry I'm selfish I didn't even think about you let me-" Wrecker laughs, shrugging you off. He seems a little, shy about it though, the laugh is somewhat nervous.

"Oh don't worry bout that. I'm, I'm good."

You almost think he's refusing you, before realizing his face is quite heated, as well as the way he adjusts the bottoms of his blacks. The patch of blankets underneath him is considerably wrinkled, far more than around you. But before you can issue any sort of acknowledgment Wrecker flops down onto the bed beside you hard, enough that for a second you were scared for the safely of your bed.

"Besides, all with that runnin' around you made us do I'm tired, and your bed feels nice." You hope it's nice, you spent a decent amount of money on it.

"I'm glad you like it. Hope it's better than whatever's in the clone bases."

"Oh yeah! Way better, those are just shoddy ol' bunks. I can stretch out here, all those bunks are too small."

He doesn't seem to realize even in your large bed his feet are still dangerously close to the end of the mattress, but you don't comment. At least he’s not dangling off, like you presume he would be in the GAR barracks.

"And, there's a pretty lady to hold on to." Quickly he tugs you close, all the way until his face lays comfortably against your chest. An arm wraps around your waist and while you adjust slightly, you already feel so snug and safe, wiggling like a warm tooka cat before closing your eyes.

———————

It’s the early morning when you wake up, hearing the sound of a comm ringing. It’s almost to dull to notice, muffled quite significantly. It’s clearly not yours, and judging by how the muffled source is coming from the pile of armor in the middle of the floor, there’s no doubt it’s Wrecker’s.

He’s a heavy sleeper however, and it takes a considerable jostling to remove him from the way he’s snuggling you and wake up.

“Hmm?” He sounds incredibly sleepy, only one foot in the waking world. You give him a kiss to attempt to wake him up, but it seems to almost have the opposite affect.

“Your comm is ringing. Might want to answer it.”

While the is teasing, you can’t help but laugh as he groans; Pulling himself from the bed and arms away from you with one considerable throw of his weight. He stumbles over and grabs the comm before quickly flopping back into the bed, and you decide to take refuge laying on his stomach. Your legs lay between his, chin on your forearms as he lets out a tired:

“What?”

It doesn’t take long for the caller to speak up.

“Where, are you.”

The voice sounds venomous, and you can’t help but mumble.

“Someone’s in trouble…” It seems however that your voice picked up, and quickly he changes tone.

“Oh, uh…” Clearly now thinking he’d interrupted something, you laugh and dissuade him.

“Good morning.” The caller groans.

“I wish.” He changes back to Wrecker. “We got a mission. Come back here now, we leave in two.” Of course, he barely gets to enjoy the peace of slowly waking up with you, before he has to pull himself away and go back to the frontlines. He loves the fight more than anything, but now that he has something he likes just as much, it’s not as simple. That moment of silence prompts the caller, Hunter, as Wrecker says shortly after, to speak up again.

"Hurry."

Wrecker quickly slides back off your bed and starts scrambling to put his body glove back on. "I'm hurryin' I'm hurryin'! Geez Hunter!" He barely has it on when Hunter hangs up, and you're trying not to laugh at the sight of Wrecker fumbling around.

"What's so funny?" He almost falls over trying to put on a boot, and you slide your legs off the side of the bed.

"Need some help?" He's still scrambling to get the other boot on, but his chestplate is still... Somewhere.

"I won't refuse it..." You manage to find his chestplate when your feet hit the floor, and it scrapes the back of your ankle. Pulling it out from under the bed and handing it to him, he's back to completely dressed. You never really thought about how he's been in his armor almost the whole time you’ve seen him; Maybe you'd get him something more comfortable as a present next time he came by.

Granted, finding something to fit someone of his size might be a little more difficult than usual.

“I’d walk with you back if I could; But they don’t exactly let civilians on GAR property.” Wrecker attempts to hide his disappointment, but it mostly fails.

“I’ll miss ya,” he says, looking down at you as he stands in your doorway.

“I will too. But I’ll have a surprise for when you come back. So don’t do anything stupid out there.”

Something to look forward to. You don’t have something quite yet, but surely you can come up with something sweet just for him. Wrecker ruffled your hair and you take the opportunity to steal a kiss, before finally saying goodbye. He reluctantly leaves you alone, and you close the door behind him.

It’s still quite early, judging by the dim sun outside so you decide to get another hours rest, walking back to your bed and seeing Wrecker had forgotten something. His helmet; Sitting in the corner of the room partly covered by a curtain. When he dropped it, it must’ve rolled along to end up hidden over there.

With as much energy as you can muster this early in the morning, you snatch it and race out the door, rushing to catch him while still in your nightclothes.