#mostly because i think he enjoys getting them back under his thumb

[harmonic-intervention]

Got a little inspired by Tim saying Buck wasn't spending as much time with Eddie because of his new relationship. Wouldn't leave me alone so enjoy my word vomit.

When Buck woke up, he did so gradually, slowly gaining awareness of the mattress and the frankly unholy amount of pillows under him, of the warmth settled right next to him, of the gentle stroke of a thumb over his lower arm.

Sighing, he moved, stretched like a cat in a sunbeam, and turned over onto his side, rolling right into the source of that pleasant warmth.

He didn't even open his eyes. Instead, he blindly found his way to his destination, burying his nose in the space right under a very nice jaw. He felt the vibration of the resulting chuckle right against his skin.

"Good morning," Tommy mumbled. "Sleep well?"

Buck nodded, but it ended up being more of a nuzzle. "The best."

A large hand found its way into the curls at the back of Buck's head and began gently scratching at his scalp, twirling a curl around a finger, the usual.

Buck finally found the will to move his face away from Tommy's throat and actually open his eyes. The light of the room was dim, the dark curtains keeping most of the sunlight out.

Tommy looked beautiful lying there with his hair all soft and fluffy. To be fair, Buck thought he always looked beautiful, and every time he looked at him, it was as if he became more and more so.

"Morning," Buck finally returned the greeting. He leaned in to steal a chaste kiss, but quickly found he wasn't satisfied with just one.

The same way that Tommy apparently wasn't satisfied with just a couple short ones, as a hand along Buck's jaw kept him close, and when his thumb found its place on the bolt of Buck's jaw, he opened up easily.

They hadn't been dating for all that long, but most of their mornings off were spent like this - in bed, luxuriating in the cozy, intimate atmosphere.

They both had come off of a long shift of not seeing each other, and now had the next 48 hours off together, so Buck had gone to Tommy's place after the end of his shift. He was going to spend the next two days glued to Tommy's side. A crowbar would not be able to pry him off.

Things were heating up steadily, the space between them being reduced down to nothing. Buck's hand started to make its way beneath the sheets to slide down Tommy's torso when he was interrupted by his phone vibrating on the nightstand.

Buck was determined to ignore it - whoever it was could just send him a message and he would get back to them - and sighed his relief right into Tommy's mouth when the call ended. His fingers skirted along the waistline of Tommy's boxers when the vibrating picked back up.

Still on his path of disregarding the existence of the outside world, Buck moved closer to Tommy, slotting a leg between his, and just when he was finally about to stop teasing them both and actually put his hand on Tommy's dick, his phone started acting up again.

Much to his dismay, Tommy moved his mouth away from his. "I think it's important."

Buck grumbled as he turned over to grab his phone, one hand still firmly in place on Tommy's body, "Whoever it is better have life insurance."

He ignored the soft snort that came from his boyfriend in favor of taking a look at his phone screen.

"It's Eddie."

"Better pick up."

Buck might have been ready to just turn his phone off, but Tommy's suggestion was much more reasonable. He nodded and turned back on his other side.

Tommy's eyes flitted down between them. "You gonna take your hand off my dick?"

"No," Buck replied with a wink and accepted the call. "Hey, Eddie."

Tommy shrugged and leaned in, finding something for his mouth to do. Namely go to town on Buck's throat.

"Buck, where are you? I'm at your place and it's empty."

It took a moment for Eddie's words to register, mostly because Buck was distracted by the hint of teeth against his adam's apple. "What- my place? We have a 48 off."

"Yeah, I thought we could hang out. You didn't mention any plans, did you have something?"

He didn't mention any plans because going over to Tommy's place had become the rule, not the exception.

"I'm at Tommy's." Syllables were getting harder to form when most of his brainpower was used to concentrate on hands sliding up and down his back, stopping just shy of his ass every time.

"Oh! Are both of you up, I could come by there, then."

Eddie started talking about something - probably what he had wanted to convince Buck to do with him, something about something, Buck would full-heartedly admit that he was not listening to a single word. Not when his super hot boyfriend was being a tease.

"Listen, man, that sound's great," probably, "but I'm kinda busy at the moment."

"What?"

Tommy chuckled against Buck's jugular, clearly having heard Eddie's confusion through the phone.

Buck was about to say something that would probably traumatize his best friend forever, when seemingly, he connected the dots by himself.

"Oh, ew, Buck! What the fuck?"

"Don't 'what the fuck' me, you wouldn't stop calling!" Buck exclaimed.

This time, Tommy let out an actual laugh, definitely loud enough to be picked up by the phone. Eddie groaned on the other side, sounding very much like he was regretting all of his life choices.

"Listen, we'd love to hang out, but maybe a bit later, yeah? Give us ..." Buck looked down at Tommy and raised an eyebrow, "like, an hour?"

Tommy's reply of, "Two hours," was muffled against Buck's collarbone. He had quickly gone back to ignoring the phone call in favor of biting at the edges of Buck's body.

"Two hours. Then you can come over."

Hands free and mind not pulled in two different directions, Buck immediately buried a hand in Tommy's hair and pulled him off. He narrowed his eyes at the spark of mischief in Tommy's own ones.

After getting Eddie's confirmation and the beginning of him lamenting his life, Buck simply hung up and tossed his phone onto the nightstand, uncaring whether it actually landed there or not.

"Having fun?" he asked with a put upon frown.

Tommy didn't even have the decency to look bothered by the grip that Buck had on his curls. "So far, yes."

Buck hauled him back in into a biting kiss, using the momentum of his own body to turn them over into the pillows.

He ignored the smug grin pressed against his mouth for now. He'd take care of that soon enough.

[lovebugism]

Smut request idea: Eddie worshipping reader's tits, who is insecure about their small size (lol totally not projecting 😅)

ty for requesting :D — eddie 'heart eyes' munson sees your boobs for the first time (cw for nudity, but no real smut, 18+ mdni, 1.1k)

bug's one year celebration ♡

On a rainy, post-show night, in the back of Eddie Munson’s van, you decide to be brave.

Buzzing with alcohol, adrenaline, and adoration — a wild concoction rushing like fire through your veins — you take your shirt off for the very first time in front of him. Mostly because your sweater was getting itchy, so you’re not entirely sure how brave that makes you. But your skin burns still, empty like a blank sky, yearning for a warmer touch to fall over you like stars.

In the simplest, most human way, you need Eddie to touch you like you need to breathe air. 

So, when you tugged the fuzzy sweater up and over your head, you hadn’t thought much about doing it. You were too full of need, too unthinking. Head clouded with longing until you developed something short of tunnel vision for the boy underneath you.

It wasn’t that big a deal, right? Isn’t this what girlfriends do with boyfriends?

Eddie’s silence is not reassuring. It feels more like a knife lodged in the very center of your sternum.

You lay the sweater beside you and cross your arms slowly over yourself. Equal parts to hide what you’d just revealed to him and to shield your bleeding, stinging heart.

Eddie’s face twists, pained features swirling like a hurt puppy. “Wait��� What are you doing?” he asks in an unabashed whine. His less-than-subtle pout deepens as his chocolate-button eyes flit up to yours.

You keep curling in on yourself, but from where you straddle his thighs, he’s impossible to run away from. “Why aren’t you saying anything?” you wonder in a tiny voice, distantly fearful of the answer. 

You don’t have the kind of chest people put on magazines. Maybe you should’ve just kept the shirt on.

Eddie’s ringed fingers smooth around your bare waist. He realizes he’s holding you there for the very first time without any fabric covering you. His chest starts to sparkle. His thumbs rub gently at your ribcage, just below the arms still concealing yourself.

“‘Cause I’m too busy enjoying the view, honey,” he answers with a plush pink and crooked smile. His words are slightly slurred, weighed down by fatigue and desire. “How am I supposed to think when I’m looking at you, huh?”

You make a faint, grumbly noise, features scrunching in disdain at his compliment.

He smiles wider and curls his fingers around the wrists you hold over yourself. There is little force behind his touch, no eagerness to tug your hands away. Instead he just holds you, in a distinctly quiet embrace, telling you silently that you can let your guard down whenever you’re ready.

“So you don’t think they’re weird?”

He answers with an immediate scoff. “No, I don’t think they’re weird— I think they’re beautiful! I think every part of you is beautiful.”

You grow less and less tense in his hold. Your hands start to slip. You let them. 

Bare again in front of him, the boyish glimmer in Eddie’s dark eyes returns. 

The wild cadence of rain on the rusted tin roof resembles the rapid patter of his pounding heart as he ogles at you. And, with his back propped against the driver’s seat, he has the most perfect view of you.

The pale hands along your ribcage slowly start to rise. His warm touch leaves sparkling goosebumps in its wake. He doesn’t stop until his thumbs are settled neatly beneath your breasts.

“I mean— I always knew they’d be pretty, you know?” he mumbles, getting lost in you all over again. You don’t know if he’s talking to you, or if he even knows he’s rambling. “‘Cause when you’d let me feel you up, you know, over the shirt— I always imagined what you’d look like under it…”

He trails off then, forgets how to make words when his thumb rubs over your soft nipple. The gentle stimulation makes it stiffen beneath his touch. Eddie smiles to himself, all boyishly giddy.

“…But I couldn’t’ve, in my wildest imagination, expected this.”

Your chest warms with his affection. You scoff about it, anyway. “You’re such a boy,” you laugh.

“It’s not my fault you’re so pretty…” 

Still cupping your chest, Eddie leans down to kiss you there. A chaste, open-mouthed peck to your pebbled nipple. His heart swells when he hears you moan above him — your nose buried in the strands of his wild hair, fingers playing with the curls at the nape of his neck. 

Eddie licks his rosy lips when he pulls back from you. 

“See? You’re gonna kill me one day, doll— I swear,” he teases in a joking tone, but means every bit of it. He loves you so much it makes his chest ache. You’ll give him a goddamn heart attack one day if he’s not careful. “Can’t believe you’ve been hiding from me this whole time…”

You’re not sure either, now. 

“I was just scared that… I don’t know,” you stammer, clammy hands fidgetting with his intentionally tattered Corroded Coffin t-shirt. You’d helped him cut rips into the white fabric before the show. You distract yourself with the pink lipstick smudge you’d pressed along the neck of it, rubbing hopelessly at a stain that’ll never come off. 

“I was scared that you’d think I was less pretty or something. I don’t know.”

“No,” Eddie recoils immediately, face twisting in abhorrence of the thought. He shakes his wild head at you. “No way. That’s not possible. I think you’re fucking— perfect. And I think that…”

His eyes fall to your chest again. He loses the rest of his words.

A smile blossoms on your face. You don’t think you’ve ever felt prettier than you do right now.

“You think that what?” you tease, hands rising again to twist in his deep brown curls.

Eddie’s button eyes flit back up to you. His ringed hands lift to cup your breasts in his wide palms. They fit just perfect in his hands — like he was made to hold you there. The width of his beam rivals your own. 

“That I just found Corroded Coffin’s next album cover,” he answers.

The sound of your laughter fills the van. Sunshine compared to the rolling rain outside.

“No. No way. That’s not happening,” you refuse, still smiling, as Eddie leans into you again.

You wrap your arms around his neck when he puts his mouth on you. He buries his own laughter against the plush of your breast — along with so many little kisses. 

He doesn’t mind your light-hearted rejection. The only thing Eddie likes more than showing you off is keeping you totally to himself.

[cowboybeepboop]

Hidden Passion

"I don't think I'm ever gonna forget this night, darlin'. You've been drivin' me crazy for way too damn long."

Pairing: Scott Miller x fem! Reader

Genre: Smut

Word count: 5200

Summary: Kate invites you along to the group's camping trip and you’ve decided you finally have had enough of Scott’s indifference to you.

Warnings: p in v sex, semi public, unprotected sex, jealous Scott bc I like him jealous

A/n: I’m having fun with all the twisters smut 😭 hopefully you all enjoy. At some point I’m gonna write some more top gun maverick stuff. But as always, let me know if you have any ideas/requests for me 🤗

Boone is your twin brother, which means that you spend all of your time following him and his friends around. Because you’re the ‘responsible’ twin and mostly because his friends really know how to have fun.

Regardless, Boone has been extra careful bringing you around because he’s under the impression that you have a thing for Tyler. So of course when Kate invited you along to their camping trip you just knew you were going to get on his nerves by flirting with the cowboy.

Your brother was right about one thing: you do have a crush on one of his friends. Who just so happens to be the biggest asshole out of them all. Scott. So it's a win-win situation, you can piss Boone off and see if Scott even gives a shit. Even though you know Scott only came along because Javi is trying to get with Kate.

You’re sitting across from the fire with your knee touching Tyler’s, a small smile on your face as you notice your brothers stare. You could tell already that Boone was dreading having you there, but that was part of the reason you wanted to go in the first place. To piss him off.

Scott is sat off to the side with Javi and Kate, he’s drinking a beer with his usual scowl on his face. ”Hey, wanna make some s’mores?” Your cheerful voice rings out through the night air.

Scott’s scowl deepens as he hears your sweet tone, and seeing you talking to Tyler does nothing to improve his mood. He takes a long sip from his beer, trying to quell the growing irritation in his chest.

The rest of the group has mixed reactions but Tyler grabs a stick and puts a marshmallow at the end. “Do you want me to roast it for you darlin’?” You grin up at him.

“Yes, I’d like that.” You rest your head on his shoulder as you watch the flames.

As he watches Tyler roast a marshmallow for you, Scott's jaw tightens. He mutters under his breath, "Darlin'....what a load of bullshit." Your eyes flicker over to Scott and you give him a small smile.

Scott catches your smile and huffs in response, his expression remaining grumpy. He tries to ignore you, taking another sip from his beer, but he can't shake off the irritation that's bubbling up within him.

He glances back at you, noticing you're still talking to Tyler, the marshmallow still roasting in his hand. Scott's grip tightens around his beer bottle, trying to keep his anger in check.

You lean over Tylers lap reaching for the graham crackers and a chocolate bar. Tyler’s free hand goes to your lower back as you hover over him. “Wow there darlin’ be careful.” He chuckles as you find yourself on the log again, the cracker and chocolate prepared for the hot marshmallow.

Scott's eyes narrow as he sees Tyler's hand go to your lower back. His grip on the beer bottle tightens even more, his knuckles turning white. The sight of you leaning over Tyler's lap ignites a fire of jealousy within him.

Your brother's glare bores a hole into the back of your head, his arms crossing over chest. “He’s kind of scary when he’s mad like that,” you whisper to Tyler as he completes the s’more.

“Seems like your plan is back firing on you,” he replies with a smirk, handing the treat your way. You nod as you take a bite of the dessert, a smear of chocolate left on your bottom lip.

Tylers smirk grows wider as his eyes flick to your lip, his thumb moving to swipe the chocolate away. Scott's scowl deepens as he watches Tyler smirk and the way he swipes the chocolate away from your lip. He can feel the anger boiling within him, his grip on the beer bottle almost painful now.

Boone however wasn’t going to sit by and watch you two flirt all night, he gently grabs your arm pulling you away. “What are you doing?” Boone sits you down in between Scott and Javi.

“Stay there.” Your brother commands you like a dog, earning a grin from you.

“I’ve gotten banished,” you say to Javi, nudging his arm with your elbow, turning to Scott to smile at him. He's still fuming over the interaction with Tyler, but your presence next to him has a way of lessening his irritation, even if just a little bit.

Scott takes another gulp of his beer, trying to ignore the jealousy that's still gnawing at him. Javi laughs, "Banished, huh? Can't say I'm surprised." You giggle in response.

“Well in my defense I never thought Boone would get so bothered.” Javi shakes his head with a bright smile.

The night drags on, and the group slowly disperses into their tents, leaving just you, Scott, and the crackling fire in the center of the campsite. You’re both a few drinks deep at this point, and the alcohol has done little to quell Scott’s sour mood.

He glances at you sitting across from him as he takes another swig from his beer. The fire casts a warm glow on your face, and despite his best efforts, Scott can't help but find you somewhat attractive even in the dim lighting.

”Scott?” You murmur his name. Scott looks up as you speak his name, his eyes focusing on your face. He tries to keep his expression neutral, hiding the slight hitch in his breath at the sound of your voice.

"Yeah?" Scott replies, his tone gruff, as he raises an eyebrow in your direction. Scott watches you move closer to him, his eyes tracing the movement of your body. He tries to ignore the way his heart rate picks up at your proximity.

“How much have you had to drink tonight?” You reach for his half empty bottle, he tightens his grip on the beer bottle as you reach for it.

"Why, tryin' to cut me off?" Scott asks, his voice a mixture of defensiveness and irritation.

”Maybe,” you huff, still trying to steal his bottle, “why won't you let go.” Scott stubbornly tightens his grip on the beer bottle as you reach for it again. He can feel the heat from your body sitting next to him, and his heart rate quickens at your proximity.

Scott grunts in frustration, "Damn it, just leave it alone," he snaps, his voice betraying his rising irritation. You flinch away crossing your arms under your chest.

“Okay, fine, whatever.” You grumble. Scott notices your reaction and internally scowls at himself for snapping at you. Seeing you pout and cross your arms ignites a strange mixture of frustration and guilt within him.

He takes a deep breath as he watches you sulk, trying to calm his irritation. "Look, I'm...," he starts, his voice gruff, "I didn't mean to snap at you like that." You steal the bottle away successfully.

“I know, that’s why I’m trying to cut you off.” You smile triumphantly, wrapping your fingers around the bottle. “You’re even more of a grump than usual.”

He bristles at your comment about him being a grump, but he can't deny the truth in your words. "I'm always a grump," he retorts, begrudgingly, "especially when I'm around you."

You finish off his drink, swiping at your lips as you give him the empty beer bottle. “What do you mean?” Your eyebrows furrow in confusion. Scott watches as you finish off the beer and swipe your lips with your fingertips. He can't help but notice the way your actions send a jolt of desire through him.

He lets out a frustrated sigh, "I mean that you always seem to rile me up, in one way or another." His statement confuses you.

“Scott, how do I rile you up?’” You’re offended by his words, “Are you saying I piss you off?” Scott rolls his eyes at your question, the alcohol making it harder to suppress his true feelings.

He lets out a scoff, "No, no, not piss me off," he grumbles. "You...you just...get under my skin," he admits begrudgingly. You scoot closer to him on the log, the alcohol you’ve consumed through the night giving you confidence.

“Under your skin how?” You narrow your eyes at him, Scott lets out a growl of frustration as you move closer to him on the log. He can feel the warmth of your body radiating towards him, and it's driving him crazy.

He looks at you as you narrow your eyes at him, and he's hit with the urge to pull you even closer, to run his hands over your body, to taste the alcohol on your lips.

He grits his teeth, trying to control his thoughts as he responds. "You just...always seem to do things that get a rise out of me," he admits through clenched teeth.

”You’re saying a whole lot of nothing Scottie.” Your voice is stern. Scott's irritation sparks at your firm tone of voice, but it's overpowered by the way his heart skips a beat hearing his nickname leave your lips.

He huffs in frustration, running a hand through his messy hair. "You just...you're always so damn cheerful and friendly, goddamnit," he mutters, the alcohol loosening his tongue.

”There’s nothing wrong with being friendly” Scott scowls at your words, his frustration growing as he tries, and fails, to articulate his feelings. He knows there's nothing wrong with being friendly, but your friendliness always seems to make his heart race.

"I know that..." he mutters irritably, his eyes scanning your face as he tries to find a way to explain his tumultuous feelings. You set your hand on his knee as you move even closer to him.

“Scott?” You sigh, still not understanding what he’s meaning, maybe it's the booze or his lack of proper communication.

Scott's heart leaps at the touch of your hand on his knee, a jolt of electricity coursing through him. He can feel the heat of your body next to his, and it takes everything in him to maintain his resolve.

At the sound of his name on your lips, he groans, "Goddamnit, stop sayin' my name like that."

“Like what, Scottie?” You tease, Scott's heart flutters at the sound of you saying his nickname again, his frustration mixing with a surge of desire.

He mutters under his breath, "There it is again," he replies gruffly, his tone a mix of irritation and something deeper. "You say my name like it's a damn melody, and it drives me crazy."

A playful smirk places itself on your lips as you lean forward pressing your palms onto his thighs, your face inches away from his. Scott's breath catches in his chest as you lean forward, your palms on his thighs sending a wave of heat through his body.

He can feel the warmth of your breath on his face, and it takes every ounce of his willpower not to close the distance between you and capture your lips with his. He swallows hard, trying to keep his composure. "What are you doing?" he manages to ask, his voice a hoarse whisper.

”I just wanted to get a closer look,” your smirk grows as you watch his expression. Scott's heart races at your proximity, his breath coming in short gasps. He can feel the heat of your gaze on his face, your smirk driving him crazy, and all he wants to do is pull you into his lap and taste those lips.

He grits his teeth, struggling to keep his cool. "And what exactly are you looking for?" he asks huskily, his eyes locked on yours.

“I think I see a little bit of a blush on your cheek.” Scott's heart skips a beat as you touch his cheek, your fingertips tracing the outline of his cheekbone. He swallows loudly, trying to maintain his composure as your touch sends shivers of desire coursing through him.

He can feel his face growing hotter beneath your touch, and he knows his blush is becoming more prominent. "Shut up," he grumbles, stubbornly trying to deny the effect you're having on him.

“Don’t be like that, it's cute” Scott's breath hitches in his chest as you pull your body against his, your thighs pressing against his knees. He can feel the heat of your touch searing through him, igniting a fire within him.

He scowls at your words, his face growing hotter with each passing moment. "Cute?" he mutters, refusing to admit how desperately he craves your touch. You sigh with the realization that you’re gonna have to make the first move.

“Scott.. Close your eyes for a second.” Scott's eyebrows furrow in confusion as you instruct him to close his eyes. He hesitates for a moment, his heart pounding in his chest, but he complies, his eyelids slowly closing.

As he sits there, his eyes shut, he can feel his other senses heightened, attuned to every sound and every movement. "What now?" he asks, his voice a gruff whisper.

You cup his cheek, “Keep them closed, okay?” Your breath fans across his face as you lean in. He nods slightly in response, his eyes still firmly shut, his other senses hyper aware of your proximity.

He can feel the heat of your body against his, and his every instinct urges him to pull you even closer, but he remains still, waiting for your next move. You press a soft kiss to his lips, your other hand sliding up his thigh as you move closer.

Scott's heart nearly stops when your lips press against his, a jolt of desire coursing through him. He can feel your hand moving up his thigh, and the sensations sent his mind reeling.

He responds to your kiss, his hand coming up to gently cup the back of your neck, his thumb tracing the line of your jawline. You pull your lips away, your eyes scanning the expression on his face.

Scott's eyes slowly flutter open, his mind swirling with desire and need. He gazes at you, his eyes dark with emotion. He swallows hard, his chest heaving as he tries to regain his composure. "Why..." he starts, his voice low and gruff, "why'd you do that?"

”Why not?” You murmur, leaning in for another kiss. Scott's breath catches in his chest as you lean in for another kiss, his body responding vehemently to your touch.

He allows himself to be consumed by the kiss, his hand moving to the small of your back, pulling you onto his lap. It becomes more heated as you push your chest against his own, arms wrapping around his neck, your fingers tangling in his hair.

Scott groans loudly in response to your actions, the feeling of your body pressed against his and your fingers in his hair sending shivers down his spine.

His hands roam over your body, wanting to feel every inch of you. He deepens the kiss, his tongue expertly exploring your mouth, tasting the mixture of alcohol and sweetness.

You moan into his mouth at the roughness of his hands against your skin, “Scott, we should go to a tent…” you shiver at the cold air, “It’s getting cold,” Scott reluctantly breaks the kiss, his breathing ragged, his body aching with desire.

He nods in agreement, his mind clouded with lust, desperate to get you somewhere private. "Yeah..." he mutters, his hands still touching your body, almost reluctantly letting you slide off his lap. "Let's go."

You lead him to your tent, your hand comfortably holding his. You unzip the tent and slip inside, pulling off your boots as you sit on the air mattress that you forced your brother to set up.

Scott follows you into the tent, his heart pounding in his chest as the reality of the situation hits him. He watches you kick off your boots and sit down on the air mattress, his eyes scanning your figure in the dim light of the tent.

He closes the tent behind him, zipping it up, and sits down next to you, his body inches away from yours. You smile up at him, the flush of his cheeks darker than before. “You’re so cute Scott,” Scott's heart skips a beat at your words, his cheeks growing even hotter under your gaze.

He huffs in feigned irritation, trying to hide the effect you have on him. "Shut up," he mutters, trying to sound gruff and annoyed, but the hint of a smile tugs at the corners of his lips.

”Would you prefer being called handsome?” You tease, your hands reaching out to roam his body. Scott's breath catches in his chest as your hands move over his body, his heart racing in his chest.

He tries to maintain a cool exterior, but the way your touch ignites a fire within him is impossible to ignore. He scoffs, a mixture of annoyance and desire in his voice. "Handsome, cute, it's all the same damn thing," he mutters, trying to remain unaffected by your touch.

”But you love it, don’t you?” You mumble against his ear as you settle into his lap once again. Scott's breath hitches as you settle into his lap, your breath brushing against his ear. He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you close, his body practically buzzing with desire.

He growls in response to your words, his hands tracing the curve of your hips. "Damnit," he mutters, his voice a gruff whisper, "You know I do." You respond by kissing him. More passionate than before, your eyes flutter shut as he slips his tongue in your mouth.

Scott groans lowly in response to your passionate kiss, his hands gripping your hips almost possessively. He matches the intensity of the kiss, his tongue tanging with yours in a heated dance.

He pulls you flush against his chest, wanting to eliminate the space between you, the feeling of your body against his nearly driving him mad with desire. You lean against him pushing his back against the bed, hovering over him as you pull away from his lips, asking for air.

Scott's breath hitches as you push him back against the bed, your body hovering over him, dominating his every sense. He gazes up at you, his eyes dark with desire, his chest heaving with each breath he draws.

He reaches up, his hands finding your hips once again, desperately holding on as if he's afraid you might disappear. "You're killing me, you know that right?" he mutters, his voice rough with need.

”Then why don’t you do something about it?” You tease, you voice low and sultry. Scott's eyes darken at your words, a low growl escaping his lips. He flips you over, pinning you beneath him, his body pressed firmly against yours.

He gazes down at you, his eyes locked on yours, his voice a gruff whisper. "Be careful what you wish for, darlin'" he mutters, his lips hovering millimeters from your own. You arch up against his body, pressing your lips to his hungrily.

Scott's breath hitches in his chest at the feel of your body arching against his, the need coursing through him becoming nearly unbearable.

He kisses you back with equal fervor, his tongue seeking entrance to your mouth. His hands roam over your body, desperate to memorize every contour of your curves. Your arms wrap around his torso pulling him closer to you, your fingers pressing against his back.

Scott groans loudly at the feeling of your arms around him, your fingers tracing patterns against his back, sending shivers down his spine. He presses his body against yours, his desire and need for you escalating with each passing moment.

His hands move to your hips, gripping them tightly, his lips moving down your neck, leaving a trail of heated kisses in their wake. You arch your back, gasping at the sensation of Scott's kisses along your collarbone, your body responding to his touch with eager anticipation.

His hands glide under your shirt, his rough fingertips tracing the sensitive skin of your lower back, sending shivers down your spine. You can feel the tension in the air thicken, the electricity between you growing more intense with every passing second.

The sound of fabric rustling fills the tent as you both fumble with the buttons and zippers of your clothes, desperate to feel each other's skin against your own. Scott's eyes never leave yours, the raw desire in them leaving no room for doubt about what he wants, what you both want.

As the last barrier falls away, your bodies finally align in a dance of passion that's been building for what feels like an eternity, the cool night air forgotten against the heat of your union.

Scott's eyes darken even further as he takes in the sight of your exposed skin, his desire to taste and pleasure you becoming an all-consuming need. He shifts his position, sliding down your body, his hands firmly on your thighs as he spreads your legs wider.

You gasp as his mouth descends upon your pussy, his tongue eagerly flicking against your clit, teasing and exploring your folds with a hunger that's both thrilling and overwhelming. His movements are unbridled, driven by a passion that's been simmering just beneath the surface for far too long.

Each stroke, each lick, sends waves of pleasure crashing through your body, making you quiver and moan beneath him. You grip the blankets tightly, your breaths coming in ragged gasps as he devours you, the heat of his mouth a stark contrast to the coolness of the tent's interior.

His eyes never leave yours, the intensity of his gaze only serving to heighten the intimacy of the moment. You can feel your orgasm building, your body tightening with every flick of his tongue, and you know that this night is going to change everything between you.

As Scott's mouth continues its relentless assault on your sensitive flesh, you can't help but let out a series of muffled cries, biting down on the fabric of your shirt bunched in your hand to stifle the sounds of your pleasure. Your body tenses, your legs quivering as the first waves of your orgasm begin to crash over you. You clench your eyes shut, trying to hold on to the last shreds of your self-control, but it's no use.

With a final, desperate whimper, your climax takes you, your back arching off the mattress as your hips buck against his face. He doesn't relent, though, his tongue still working its magic as you ride out the intense sensations that grip you, the fabric of your shirt now damp with your efforts to remain silent.

When the tremors finally subside, you collapse back onto the bed, your chest heaving with the force of your gasps for air. Scott kisses his way back up your body, a smug smile playing on his lips as he claims your mouth once more, tasting the sweetness of your release.

The sound of your muffled moans only spurs him on, his own need for you growing with every second that passes. He can feel his cock straining, demanding release, but he's in no rush. For now, he's content to bask in the aftermath of your pleasure, knowing that the night has only just begun.

Scott lays down on the air mattress, his eyes never leaving yours as he pulls you on top of him, a silent invitation for you to take the lead. The feel of his hardened cock pressing against your still-sensitive core sends a fresh wave of desire through you, making your own need for him even more urgent.

You straddle him, the warmth of his skin against yours sending shivers down your spine as you line yourself up with his length. With a look of pure determination in your eyes, you slowly lower yourself onto him, feeling every inch of him fill you up. A low moan escapes your lips as you adjust to the feeling of him inside you, his eyes never leaving yours, filled with a mix of passion and challenge.

You begin to rock your hips, setting a slow and steady rhythm that has you both panting within moments. His hands grip your waist, guiding you as you move, his fingers digging into your skin with just the right amount of pressure to drive you wild.

Each movement sends a delicious friction through your body, and you can feel yourself getting closer to the edge again. Scott's eyes never leave yours, the intensity of his gaze holding you captive as you both succumb to the passion that's been brewing between you for so long.

Scott's quietude breaks as he becomes increasingly vocal with every sway of your hips, his breaths hitching in his throat as he watches you take control. His hands glide from your waist to your breasts, kneading them gently, his thumbs circling your hardened nipples in time with your movements.

His voice is low and gruff, a series of grunts and moans that seem to be ripped from the very depths of his soul, a primal response to the pleasure you're giving him. You lean into his touch, your own breaths coming in short gasps as you rock against him, the friction building into a crescendo of desire.

The sound of your bodies moving together fills the tent, the only music to accompany the symphony of your ragged breaths and moans. The feel of his strong hands on your body, the way he watches you with such raw hunger, it's all too much, and you know you're about to shatter once more.

You lean forward, pressing your palms into his chest, using it as leverage to drive yourself down harder onto him, the intensity of your movements growing with every stroke. His eyes never leave yours, the challenge in his gaze only making you want to push him further, to make him lose control in the way you're so close to doing. The world outside the tent fades away, leaving only the two of you, lost in the throes of passion and desire.

Your moans sync perfectly with Scott's, rising and falling in tandem as your bodies move together in a timeless rhythm. You feel your orgasm building again, a crescendo of pleasure that threatens to overwhelm you. His eyes, still locked on yours, grow darker, his pupils dilating with the approaching storm of ecstasy.

You lean in, capturing his mouth in a desperate kiss as you quicken your pace, the need to feel him come apart in your arms driving you on. His hands tighten on your hips, urging you faster, his own hips bucking up to meet your movements.

The air in the tent grows thick with desire, the only sounds the slapping of your bodies and the muffled cries escaping from your mouths. And then, with one final, shuddering thrust, it hits you both. Your orgasm crashes over you like a wave, sending sparks of pleasure throughout your body, making you tremble and clench around him.

Scott's grip on you tightens, his cock pulsing as he releases deep inside you , his own moan of pleasure melding with yours. The world outside the tent seems to fall away as you ride out the intense waves of your shared climax, your hearts beating as one, your bodies intertwined in a dance of pure, unfiltered passion.

When the storm finally subsides, you collapse against him, your breaths mingling as you both try to catch your breath, the tremors of pleasure still echoing through you. You can feel his heart racing beneath your cheek, a testament to the depth of his own release.

The silence that follows is filled with an understanding that transcends words, a bond forged in the heat of the moment that you know will never truly be broken.

You lay your head against his chest, breathing in his musk. Scott's breathing is ragged as he tries to catch his breath, his heart still racing from the intensity of the moment you just shared. He wraps his arms around you, pulling you closer, his body still buzzing with the aftermath of his climax.

He rests his cheek against the top of your head, his fingers tracing lazy patterns against your back, his mind struggling to form coherent thoughts. "That..." he finally manages to mutter, his voice hoarse and gravelly, "that was something else."

You smile as you cuddle closer to him, basking in his body heat. “We should do that again some time.” You giggle softly. Scott lets out a low chuckle, the sound rumbling through his chest. "Damn right we should," he mutters, his arms holding you closer against his body.

He presses a soft kiss to the top of your head, his lips lingering there for a moment before he speaks again. "I don't think I'm ever gonna forget this night, darlin'. You've been drivin' me crazy for way too damn long."

”Have I?” You tease as your eyes flutter shut. Scott lets out a huff at your teasing tone, his arms tightening around you.

"You know you have," he mutters gruffly, his lips finding the sensitive skin of your neck once again. "You and your damn adorable smile, and your beautiful eyes, and your infuriatingly cute laugh..."

He trails off, his voice growing huskier as he continues to list off your desirable qualities. A blush paints your face as you bask in his compliments. “I didn’t know that you thought so highly of me.” You press gentle kisses into his muscles.

Scott lets out a low hum of pleasure at the feel of your kisses against his muscles, his body already responding to your touch.

"How could I not?" he mutters, his voice gruff and sincere. "You're goddamn perfect, darlin'. Smart, beautiful, kind, funny...the list goes on and on." You bury your face into the crook of his neck, flustered by his words.

“Okay, okay. I think that’s enough now Scott…” your cheeks feel hot against his warm skin.

Scott lets out a low chuckle, feeling your flustered reaction against his neck.

"Awh, you're blushing," he teases, his hands roaming up and down your back. "And here I was just getting started..." He grins, enjoying seeing you flustered by his compliments.

But he acquiesces, not wanting to embarrass you further. He gently pulls your face back, so he can see your expression. You press a kiss against his lips, your eyes falling heavy as exhaustion comes over you in a wave.

Scott returns the kiss, his lips lingering against yours for a moment. He can feel your body growing heavy against his, your exhaustion evident.

He pulls you even closer, your head resting on his chest, his arms wrapping around you. "Let’s sleep, darlin'," he mutters softly, his voice gruff but caring. "I'm not goin' anywhere."

[answer2jeff]

' treat me tonight '

a/n: this is (debatably) some of the best smut i've ever written but i'm still new to the field ! give ya girl some suggestions if desired.

song : i know we could be so happy baby.

warnings : fluffy smut, fem!reader, oral (fem receiving), piv sex (unprotected), both reader and carmen have a bit of a praise kink, brief hairpulling, the "L-word," established relationship, gets a little rough towards the end, back scratching, porn with no real plot. not proofread

word count: 2.6k+

MDNI : i am not responsible for your media consumption.

NSFW under the cut — last warning!

"Try it," Carmen cupped your jaw as he lifted the wooden spoonful of creamy, tomato soup to your mouth, thumbing your bottom lip gently so you could carefully swallow every last bit. He enjoyed feeding you, if he was being totally honest. Even if this had been upon your request. Making his girl happy with what he did best was nothing short of a blessing to him.

"Mmm," you hummed in amusement, swallowing before smiling contently and nodding your head. "'S great, Carmy. Fuckin' delicious."

Long days at work dealing with insensitive clientele and immature coworkers seemed to be so easily remedied by Carmen's cooking. You weren't sure if it was because it was him catering to you and loving you the one way he always knew how, or if the food was just that fucking amazing. Maybe a little bit if both.

"Yeah? Alright," he chuckled a bit, grabbing the ladle beside the pot and scooping the simple, yet beautifully crafted tomato soup into a ceramic bowl. He seemed to know exactly how you liked it, despite him asking you if you enjoyed it every. single. time.

You accepted the bowl with a sickly sweet smile on your face, giving Carmen a kiss on his clean shaven cheek to thank him for his gesture before hoisting yourself up onto the kitchen counter. Carmen just stood with his arms crossed against his chest as he leaned against the dining table, candidly watching you enjoy the warm bowl of soup

"So," you slurped some of the soup as you paused, "I'm thinkin' of giving Syd that top we found the other day."

Thrifting had become of recent liking to you anD Carmen. Just shopping and mooching around Chicago in search of vintage pieces. Mostly to actually wear, but partly to collect or regift to fellow friends. Last time you two had a day off, you found a beautiful vintage button down. A white base with downward blue stripes with a finely stitched breast pocket containing a 'V' pattern. The cuffs were cinched perfectly. It was a little baggy, too, which you knew Sydney would love.

"Ooh, yeah. I, uh, I really liked that. I think she'd really love it," Carmen nodded, "You gonna get 'er somethin' else with it? Like, to pair with it? Or just the shirt?"

"I was gonna ask you to help me with that, actually," you pointed a finger to Carmen, turning away for just a moment to gently place the empty bowl and spoon into the kitchen sink.

Carmen always thought you had a good eye for other people's tastes. Not just in fashion. The world seemed unpredictable to Carmy. But you made it look so easy, so loving to just know what people wanted. He always wished he had that kind of understanding for people. But for now, he'd admire such a trait you had.

"Hm?"

"I remember she mentioned something about having all these cool tops n' jackets and such, but, like—hardly any nice pants other than those fuckin' jeans she loves."

"Mhm," he stepped closer to you and planted his hands on your shoulders. But you soon reached for them and planted them on your hips, earning a little upward curl of his lip.

"I know you loved those nice jeans like they were your babies 'till you had to sell them," you frowned, entangling your fingers in his messy, blonde curls while your other hand rested on the back of his neck.

"Fuck, I know. Really wish I didn't have to," he tried to let out a breathy laugh to compensate for the genuine disappointment.

Fuck, did he love those pants. Pants were the one piece of fashion Carmen didn't have to second guess himself on. From jeans to slacks, he knew how to pair every possible fabric. And he never knew how to flatter the upper half of his body, so he always wore those dammed white t-shirts.

Not that you were complaining.

Especially right now, the t-shirt highlighting his broad shoulders and exposing his thick arms plastered with sentimental tattoos you always loved. You began to run your hands up and down the exposed skin. He glanced down at your patterned touch, flattered.

"Yeah, yeah. Well, anyway, I need you to help me look for a nice pair of jeans for Sydney. Can y'do that for me, hun?"

Carmen nodded rapidly, his eyes drifting from your lips and back into your eyes. His thumbs rubbed intricate little circles of adoration into your thighs.

"Yeah, baby," he smiled. "This weekend, maybe? I can take a couple hours," tilting his head, he held your chin to pull your face just inches away from his own. Something about your tendencies to make the ones you loved happy with little surprises just warmed him.

"Mhm. That works," you sighed, planting a soft kiss on his lips before wrapping your arms around his neck.

Carmens immediate suggestion just struck something in you. Months ago, he would've thrown excuse after excuse (although valid) as to when he couldn't be available, but never when he could. You felt proud of him.

"You're so good to me, Carmen."

"Yeah?"

He was learning. He was loving.

"Mhm," you barred your bottom lip behind your teeth, giving Carmen's arms a squeeze. He exhaled sharply and wondered where this could've been going.

You drove him a little crazier than he ever liked to admit. A delicate hand reached away from your hip and up to your face. He thumbed your bottom lip, the reflection of the kitchen light shining against your mouth that was glossy with a mix of both of your salivas. Carmen gazed at you in awe, a little embarrassed when he realized how long he'd been staring.

"I—" he shrugged, struggling to find the words, "I'd do it all for you, baby."

Whispering back as he began to cave in, he leaned into your neck and placing an opened mouth kiss on the skin. The smell of your perfume and the natural scent of your body was so familiar to him. It distracted him enough to let his hands roam up and down your torso before repeating that same motion on your thighs.

"Want you t.." you swallowed, your eyes shutting harshly when when he sucked a bruising hickey onto your skin.

"Want me to what, sweet girl?" Carmen mumbled, the butterflies in your stomach raging when his teeth grazed against the spot. You gently anchored your hand into his hair and pulled him away from your neck so you could see him again.

"Want you to treat me tonight," you whispered as your hands travled up to his shoulders.

He wished you could be more specific. But with your pretty eyes, your kiss-swollen lips, your thighs spread against the cold marble counter as they spilled out of your cotton shorts, how could he tease you any longer?

"That I can do."

—

Carmens body seemed to loosen up and relax as his rough hand slid down lower on your back to grab at the waistband of your shorts. You practically melted to his touch. He kissed you again, smiling against your lips as you giggled into the kiss once he slid your shorts down to your ankles. You nodded when he pulled away, ensuring him that he was on the right track.

"Need you t'spread, baby," his hand pried between your soft thighs.

"O—okay," You bit the inside of your cheek as you slowly spread your legs apart. The wet spot of arousal in the middle of your panties was completely in view now. Feeling Carmen's eyes drifting downward, you accidentally drew your knees closer together again.

"Hey," Carmen whispered while he looked into your eyes for an answer, despite your gaze being glued to the floor.

"You okay? We don't have to do thi—"

"No, no," you shook your head, "I want to. Just..not used to it. That's all."

It was true. You'd only tried oral about twice. And it went great, you couldn't deny. But you still struggled to literally open yourself up to him. You just needed a little encouragement.

"You don't have to hide, baby. You look—you are beautiful," he kissed your forehead, "so, so beautiful. Okay?"

Finally feeling some reassurance, you tried again. You spread your legs once again and let Carmen peel your soaked panties down your legs to where your shorts had been. He gave you one last look to see if you were ready, to which you happily nodded.

In the sweetest gesture, Carmen removed his own t-shirt so you wouldn't be alone. He unbuttoned his jeans and tossed them somewhere near the dining table, being left in just his boxers that outlined his slowly hardening cock.

"Thank you," you chuckled.

"Of course."

Carmen began trailing kisses from your neck down to your shoulder blade. His hands gently lifted your tank top over your head before cupping one of your breasts, his fingertips playing with your hard nipple as he kissed you one last time. He sank down to his knees, hooking your calves over his shoulders. You scooted a little closer to the edge of the counter to give him the best access to your throbbing cunt.

"Yep. Right here, baby."

He had you exactly where he wanted you.

You finally looked down at him after avoiding direct eye contact for the past few minutes. His blue eyes fully encapsulated you. He looked gorgeous between your thighs. Especially when he sucked little hickeys that wouldn't actually last against your inner thighs that made you squirm.

"You look pretty like this, bear," your hand reached to brush a loose curl out of his face. The flush that colored his pale cheeks was cute.

"You think so?" Carmen grinned. He relished in the feeling of having such gentle yet everlasting control. In his own kitchen, his beautiful girl in his hands, her thighs around his head, fully willing and wanting to let him take every part of her he could ever imagine.

You were nothing short of perfect to him.

Not wanting to waste any more time, and without preamble, he licked a bold stripe from your entrance to your swollen clit. Your breath hitched in your throat when his grip on your thighs tightened. He started to create a sense of rhythm, roughly sucking on the sensitive mound of nerve endings before soothing it with kitten licks and flat-tongued strides.

Your hand tugged at a handful of his curls. He groaned at the sensation, swirling his tongue around you to feel every fucking inch of your pussy.

"Fuck, Carmy..."

"You got the prettiest pussy, baby. So good and wet for me," he mumbled against you, his eyes still remaining closed. He needed to focus, or else he might fall apart at the sight of pure, filthy pleasure on your pretty face.

"Shut up—" you protested.

Your thighs began to shake as your head reeled back. Carmen hesitated for a moment, wiggling his fingers around anxiously before pulling his mouth away from your vulva and ever so carefully slipping in 2 large fingers.

A long, drawn out moan escaped your mouth the moment he curled his fingers upward into your g-spot. The idea of staying quiet was out of the fucking question. Oh, and now that Carmen's tongue was back on you? Forget it.

"Oh my fucking g—fuck!" you smacked your hand over your mouth, your other hand still entangled in your lovers hair. Pulling and tugging and earning the sexiest groans you'd ever heard in your life.

The sound of your voice slowly raising in pitch was enough for Carmen to change his pace. He inched himself even closer, and at an otherworldly speed flicked his tongue repeatedly against your clit. Over. And over. And over again. But his fingers slowed down to avoid overstimulating you. He needed this to last. Blissfully.

The knot in your stomach that indicated your teeter against your orgasm taunted you.

"Carm, I'm—" you took a short breath moaning incohereant babbles along the lines of 'so fuckin' good, just like that, baby' until you blurted, "I'm probably not gonna last any longer..'S too much."

You'd grown so desperate to cum that your hips ground back and forth, the tip of Carmens tongue perfectly brushing against your sensitive clit while he used the hand that was once fucking you to squeeze the fat of your breast. With his other hand, he reached down to palm his throbbing cock through the thin fabric of his boxers. He pulled his erection out from the cloth and stroked himself slowly, the final moan of "fuck," shortly followed by your name before he harshly sucked on your clit once more, was enough to throw you over the edge.

"Oh, fuck, Carmy!"

After the last couple minutes of him practically making out with your pussy, your body finally allowed itself to release, your legs shaking vigourisly as you tried desparately to catch your breath. You could literally feel a pulse-like sensation on your clit from the orgasm.

It was dirty, filthy; cumming on Carmen's pretty face right on top of his kitchen counter.

But fuck, was it hot.

—

"You think you got another one left in there for me, baby?" Carmen cooed, wrapping your legs around his hips and drawing you in so close that your breasts were pressed against his bare chest. He peppered kisses along your jaw until he resided on your lips, his tongue slipping in to create a sloppy, passionate mess of a kiss.

His clothed hard-on pressed against your clit, which was nearly fully recovered, lacking the overwhelming sensitivity it had just a couple minutes ago.

"Maybe you should find out," you teased against his ear, nipping at the skin of his neck right underneath. You gently pressed your hand against his chest, backing him up just the slightest bit so you could slip his pre-cum soaked boxers with ease.

Without another thought, Carmen carefully lined himself up with your pussy. The head of his dick passed between your folds to build anticipation. Your hands gripped his shoulders, slippery with sweat, once he finally began to push his raw cock into your hole, your arousal serving as a perfect lubricant.

"Fuck," he rasped as he watched his cock disappear into your pussy in awe "so fuckin' tight for me. So pretty n' perfect."

The two of you hardly waited to allow every thrust and slap of skin against skin get messy and rough. With Carmen desperately needing to cum and you anxiously needing to feel him inside of you, there wasn't much consideration for a slow fuck.

"Fuck me, Carmen."

With that, Carmen dug his hands into your hips and pulled several inches out of you before slamming back in. You somehow moaned louder every time. His face contorted to pure, ravenous pleasure and lust as moan and groan after groan writhed from his throat. Your nails clawed at his back, earning a "shit," and his teeth sinking into your shoulder as you ground back and forth against him to achieve the perfect thrusting angle.

"I love you," he whimpered, fucking whimpered his adoration for you. He was completely pussy drunk, his thrusts turning fast and short unlike they were when they started out.

Those words made your heart pound in your head. Sure, you'd exchanged 'I love you's' during the last year or so of your relationship, but you couldn't recall a time it was said during rough-kitchen-counter-sex.

"I love you so fuckin' much, Carm," you sobbed in a fit of utter horniness and overwhelming sense of pleasure, feeling Carmen's thick cock and squeezing your warm, gummy walls around him.

"I'm gonna cum, angel, I—"

"I know, baby. Go ahead. W-want you to fill me up."

Almost as if the universe had been working specifically in your favor, you managed to reach your orgasm just seconds before he did. Every drop of your arousal went down his thigh, while his cum perfectly filled up your cunt. He pulled out slowly watching the white and sticky semen drip down your hole.

"Was that your idea of me 'treating you' tonight?"

[kinardsevan]

i can see the sun

nobody asked for a mini where BuckTommy meet in 2x18, but my brain wrote it anyway? enjoy!

-

Tommy never mentions the first time they met, mostly because he doesn’t think Evan remembers it, and honestly he wouldn’t blame him. That night was—as Evan still defines it today—the worst night of his life, and the last thing Tommy ever wants to do is bring those painful memories back to the surface. Still, in the time since they’ve gotten together, he can’t help dwelling on it from time to time, thinking about the strength he’d seen in Evan that night, the determination. 

“Howie!” 

Chimney spins on his feet, looking around him until his eyes fall on Tommy’s muscular build, the waves of his light brown hair. 

“Tommy? What are you doing down here? It’s not safe-..” 

“I was down the street,” he explains. “Thought I could help.” 

Chimney turns, looks back at Hen and then Bobby, holding his hands out like he’s not entirely sure what the answer should be. 

“We’re gonna need the help to get it off of him,” Bobby states. He looks past his subordinates briefly and then back at them. “Chim, there’s a girl down there with her hand bleeding from twisted metal,” he states, pointing. “Hen?” 

She passes off the bag of IV fluids to Bobby that they’ve hooked up to Buck and Tommy looks around again before glancing down at the man on the ground, shaking his head. 

“What the hell,” he mutters to himself. He shifts backwards and drops down, getting in front of the blonde with curly hair, blood all over his face. “Hey, kid.” 

Buck lifts his head off the ground, groaning in pain as he looks up at him. Tommy reaches out and grabs his hand, squeezing tightly. 

“You gotta fight,” he tells him, running his thumb over Evan’s fingers. They’re cold, and he can see the paleness in his face. Buck groans again. 

“Let’s lift this,” Bobby states, glancing down at them. Tommy looks up at him and nods. 

“Alright, kid, you can do this,” he tells him. They both hear the count off, and then the attempted lift and Evan screams like bloody murder, trying to pull his leg free from where it’s pinned beneath the truck, but barely gains any traction before it’s down again. Tommy glances up at Bobby and shakes his head. “You gotta lift higher. 

“I-…I…” Buck’s voice is choked, pained cries falling out of him faster than he can do anything to stop them. Tommy reaches out and curls a finger under his chin, making him look up. 

“Hey kid, you gotta focus,” he states firmly. 

“M-ma-addie,” he stammers. 

Tommy shakes his head again. “Whatever you have to tell Maddie can wait.” Tommy looks around them again, sees everyone trying to problem-solve the situation. He glances back down at the kid in front of him. “What’s your name?” 

His head bobs up and down weakly and Tommy squeezes his fingers again. 

“E-Evan,” he stammers. Tommy nods. 

“We’re going to get you out of here, Evan,” Tommy tells him. “Just hold on.” 

“One more time guys, ready,” Bobby states. They lift again, and again Evan screams, trying to move and again gaining no traction. Tommy looks up at Bobby again, shaking his head once more. 

“It’s too heavy,” Bobby states, talking to people around them. Evan is gasping for air in front of Tommy, silent sobs coming out of him with the struggle for air. “We need more people.” 

Suddenly there’s a crowd of people lining around them, and Tommy looks back at Evan, brushing a calming hand down his hair. 

“Hang on Evan,” he states firmly. “They’ve got you.” 

“One, two, three!” 

He watches as they lift the truck, higher than they’ve been able to, high enough that he can see the clearance between Evan’s leg and the truck, and he tugs him forward until he’s free of it and the crowd is settling the truck back on the ground. Evan’s team crowds around him and Tommy steps back, moving out of the way. Bobby rests a hand on his shoulder and he looks up at him. 

“Thanks for your help,” he tells him before stepping past him, joining the rest of the 118 as they gather around Evan and move him onto a stretcher. He doesn’t voice it out loud, but holds the notion in the back of his head that in another life, he would’ve been the one pinned under the truck. 

. . . 

“Where’s your head at,” Evan murmurs, late one night as Tommy sets his book on the nightstand. He’s been doing that thing where he read the same page three times over and still didn’t digest any of the information. Tommy looks over at him and gives him a soft smile, lifting his hand to brush along one of the barely-there scars on his chin. 

“Just thinking about you,” he admits. Evan gives him an awkward smile, reaching up and pulling his hand away. 

“Should I be concerned,” Evan asks, adjusting the blankets on his lap. “You seem…distracted.” 

Tommy shakes his head dismissively. “No, no.” 

“Then what’s up,” Evan asks, curious. “Where’s your head at.” 

Tommy looks over at him, contemplatively. He narrows his gaze at Evan briefly before licking his lips. “Do you…remember? The first time we met?” 

Evan squints at him with a curious smirk. “Harbor hangar. Stealing helicopters to fly into a hurricane and break at least a dozen different laws.” He drawls on like it’s basic information. 

Tommy chuckles softly. “Sure.” He nods, biting his bottom lip briefly. “Except, no.” 

Evan still has that gaze on his face, like he’s not entirely sure where Tommy is going with this. “Okay?” 

Tommy takes a breath, lifting his hand to Evan’s chin again, looking at the scar once more. 

“I don’t mention it because I don’t ever want to put you in a painful memory,” he states, thumbing the scar. “But I was there for this.” 

Evan doesn’t need to see his face to know what Tommy is talking about. He stares at the older man for a time, clearly searching his memory, only to come up with nothing. 

“I don’t…?” 

Tommy nods. “You were already pinned under the truck, and I got on the ground with you so that Hen and Howie could help with the truck.” 

Evan’s gaze shifts around at Tommy’s words, still searching his memory. After a moment, he looks up at him. “I always thought I made up someone rubbing my head. I mean, Hen would hold my hand, but-..” 

“You didn’t,” Tommy tells him. He’s quiet for a moment, his expression somber. “I could tell you were getting close to giving up. You wanted to say something to Maddie, and I told you no.” 

Evan nods, having the vaguest recollection of that. He looks back up at Tommy. “But then you just vanished into the ether.” 

Tommy shrugs. “I sent flowers. And besides, you had a girlfriend.” 

Evan narrows his gaze at him again, but this time there’s mirth in his expression as he pushes himself up and slots a leg over Tommy’s hips, straddling him. 

“You mean to tell me I could’ve had you five years ago,” he states, moving his hands down to the hem of Tommy’s shirt, sliding his fingers beneath it. Tommy jolts at the iciness of his fingers. He smirks at Evan as he reaches for his hands, squeezing them. He leans forward, kissing along his jawline. 

“Wouldn’t have been nearly as fun then,” he replies. “We were both still figuring stuff out.” 

Evan pushes his hands further inside Tommy’s shirt, fighting against his loose grip to press his cold palms flat against his abs. Tommy growls softly, biting on his jaw. Evan settles back on his haunches and tilts his head, reaching out for one of Tommy’s hands. He brushes his fingers gently along the scars on his face, down to his chin, and then over his heart. 

“I love you,” Tommy murmurs, brushing his thumb back and forth on Evan’s chest. Evan leans into him, pulls him into a searing kiss as his hands find their way back under Tommy’s shirt with only one intention in mind. 

“I love you too.” 

[mikkomacko]

Him and I - Falling Angel

Pairing: Mob Nico Hischier x reader

Warnings: crying, discussion of violence and death, a little bit of angst but mostly fluff with our fav mafioso

Previous

Enjoy! xx

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You spend a lot of time staring at walls and ceilings now. Not that you particularly like it, but it’s one of the few things that doesn’t make your head pound. The pain is getting better, you don’t have to hide in the dark bedroom every other hour anymore but it still leaves you dizzy and upset.

These are your last few days in Switzerland and you get to spend them laying on the couch. At least the boys have found a way to keep you company and keep themselves busy.

“Pass, pass, pass!”

Jack has always been loud. You’ve known that since the moment you met him and could hear his voice over everyone’s else’s in The Rock for the rest of the night. Nico used to joke that he was so good with the ladies because he was the only one they could actually hear.

Even with his attempts to be quiet for your sake, his voice makes your temple throb. You eye twitches uncomfortably, gaze half focused on the FIFA game on the tv as Luke’s character passes to Jack. You don’t know how they manage to follow along with so much happening, but it’s entertaining to watch them.

Knowing if you keep watching you’ll eventually throw up your lunch all over the living room, you instead watch them. The coffee table has been moved to the far end of the room, the large fur rug that once lay in front of the fire now lays in front of the couch. All four Devs boys are sprawled out on it, backs against the sofa and feet stretched out towards the fire place.

They’ve been like that for days, sat on the floor together with controllers and Gatorades. And you usually take up the other couch, tucked under a blanket and head flat on the cushion so you just have to press your cheek into the fabric to watch them. That or look up at the white ceiling and watch the fan spin round and round.

Jack and Luke must score because they high five each other and attempt to quietly cheer while Alex throws his head back against the couch and Mercer pulls at the fluffy rug in frustration.

You wince, not sure if it’s from the volume or guilt for not telling the boys that Nico had fucked you into the fur of that very rug just a couple days ago. Before you can think on it too much, soft fingers are brushing the side of your face, drawing your attention.

Nico stands above you, leaning over the back of the couch to press his palm into your forehead. His skin is cold, finger tips chilled from getting more firewood from outside, and you lean into it, the weight of his hand dulling the pounding in your head. He frowns down at you, flicks his eyes up towards the boys.

“Inside voices or m’taking the game away.” He warns, and that’s not the first time you’ve heard those words lately. Almost immediately the boys fall silent, hushed whispering filling the air before someone gently apologizes.

“It’s ok,” you say, closing your eyes and letting Nico’s hold anchor you. “S’not you guys.”

His thumb strokes over your hairline. “What do you need baby?”

You shake your head, blinking your eyes open to look at him. Nico just watches you for a moment, silent and observant with his lips pursed. Fortunately he doesn’t look at you all sad and guilty anymore, even in moments when he knows you’re hurting.

“M’gonna change and then come lay with you, ok?”

Nico leaves, taking the cool feeling of his hand with him and annoyance bubbles in your gut. Slowly, you get up from the couch, trying to avoid any head rushes or dizziness as you tiptoe around the boys.

“What do you need? I’ll get it.” Luke is already moving to get on his feet, almost tripping you as you step over his lanky legs.

“I’m good. Just getting some water.” You assure, laughing when he lifts a hand up for you to hold as you walk. The rest of the boys take after him, all holding out their palms to keep you steady as you navigate their gangle of limbs.

You don’t need the help, but the gesture is so sweet it burns in your chest and you instinctively reach up to touch the pendant around your neck.

“Hey.”

A knot forms in your throat, your fingers tightening around the little devil horns. Timo is leaning against one of the counter tops, drying off his hands.

You swallow, turning to open the cabinet with the cups.

“Hey.”

Moving to the fridge, you keep your gaze down and fill up the glass with water. It’s awkward, just as it has been since he left you at the hospital. Timo’s never been good at fixing things, and you’ve never been good at giving him the chance to even try.

“You look a lot better,” he says tentatively. “The bruising and stuff.”

Bringing the glass up to your lips, you just nod and take a sip. It feels wrong to walk away from him, so you don’t. You just stand there, holding your water and staring out the kitchen window.

“Are you ever gonna look at me again?”

You shrug, take another drink of water and try to ignore the pounding of your heart in your throat. Timo sighs, and you can picture him rubbing at his right eye like he always does.

“What do I have to do to fix this? You want to me get on my knees and beg? Cry?”

This time you do look over at him, stomach twisting when you meet his gaze. The usually bright and beautiful blue of his eyes is dull and cold, so sad and unlike your best friend.

“I don’t know,” you murmur, because you really don’t. You want to fix this, want to forgive Timo but it’s hard for you to get over feeling betrayed, especially by him.

“You forgave Nico,” he argues weakly, “what’s the difference.”

Bristling, you scoff. “The difference is that it’s Nico. I get why he’d be hesitant about my abilities, not you. You’re the one I train with, the one I’ve spent miserable hours with learning to fight and survive. And you still doubted me.”

Timo’s offended, you can tell by the way he stands up straighter and tilts his head to the side. Narrowed eyes zeroing in on you. “I was just following orders, doing what I was told.”

It’s a valid point, at least to him. And that makes it hurt even more. Even though he’s your best friend, he still chose Nico over you. His loyalty still doesn’t lie with you let alone the both of you, as it should.

“I don’t care,” you mumble, looking back out the window. Tears have begun to prickle behind your eyes and you don’t really want to cry in front of him right now. “M’sure Marcelo was just following orders too. Doesn’t mean it’s right.”

“Don’t do that, don’t make me seem like him.”

Timo scoffs. “I didn’t say that,” you argue “but it’s funny that you immediately attached yourself to him.”

Rubbing at your burning eyes, you blink a few times and notice it’s begun snowing outside. You wish you could go out there and bury your head in the piles of it.

“I wouldn’t hurt you like that.” Timo defends but he sounds flat, like he’s lost all the fight in him.

You have too, and you want to go lay down and sleep. “No, you wouldn’t,” you agree with him, “but you’d hurt me in other ways, that’s for sure.”

“Y/n-“

“Enough,”

Nico’s voice startles you, a bit of water spilling from your glass when you jump and turn to the entry way. He’s changed into a pair of sweatpants, chest bare as his hoodie and coat have been forgotten somewhere upstairs.

He’s not looking at you, dark eyes instead focus on Timo and while he doesn’t look mad, he’s obviously annoyed.

“You can fight with her about this later, when she’s better. Not now.” He tells him gruffly, uncrossing his arms and stepping into the kitchen.

As if he were pulling you by a string, you meet him halfway and step into his chest. Maybe you’re being dramatic or a baby about this, but you can’t help it. You’re hurt, both physically and emotionally and while Nico does have a part in it, he’s also the only person that truly makes you feel safe.

It’s unfair to Timo, you know that. But you deserve to be a little unfair right now.

“Tired,” you mumble, nose pressing into his collarbone. Nico wraps an arm around you, presses his fingers to the back of your head protectively.

“Let’s go lay down,” he instructs, and you hum in agreement, letting him lead you back towards the living room. The blinds have been lowered, dimming the light in the room and the other Devs boys have turned off the game in favor of scrolling through Netflix.

A part of you wonders if Nico told them to. It wouldn’t surprise you and you can practically picture him standing over them, eyebrows furrowed and arms crossed as he instructs them to quiet down and turn the game off.

“What are we watching?” You ask, placing your water on the side table and waiting for Nico to sprawl out on the couch before you settle between his thighs. He sits up so you can lean back on his chest, his skin warm even though the fabric of your shirt.

“Whatever you want,” Mercer replies casually, but you don’t want to pick. Especially not after you pull a throw blanket up and over your legs, snuggling into Nico. Your eyes already feel droopy and heavy, tired brain unable to think of a movie you even like.

“Holtzy can pick,” you decide, sending him a lazy wink when he looks over at you. A sly grin takes over his face.

“I told you she wouldn’t want to pick,” he address Nico, “she’ll be out in two seconds tops.” You hear your boyfriend scoff, slipping his hand under your shirt to rest in your belly. You silently laugh and he lightly pinches at the softness of your stomach when he feels your shoulders shake.

Alex puts on an Adam Sandler comedy, one of the new ones you haven’t seen yet and you’re glad. Nico loves comedies but he hates rewatching movies, so at least he’ll be entertained.

Tilting your head back, you pucker your lips and press a kiss to the scar under Nico’s chin. His scuff is growing out, and it tickles your lips enough that you have to scratch at them afterwards but it makes him chuckle so you don’t care.

Settling back into his chest, you watch the into of the movie through droopy eyes. Timo comes into the living room just before your eyes fall shut, settling into the couch behind the other boys. You don’t see if he looks over at you and Nico, but it feels like he does just before you fall asleep.

~~~~

You’ve never been a fan of early rising, not until you met Nico. He likes to get his days started right away, likes to be out in the sun and feel like he’s actually doing something. When you first started seeing him you thought maybe he was lying about simply liking the morning. Like maybe he had undiagnosed anxiety or was a workaholic and couldn’t let himself sleep in.

Now you think he really just likes the morning.

And you don’t blame him. The house in Switzerland is peaceful, silent except for the groggy words exchanged between the two of you and the cautious movements of making breakfast without waking the boys.

Nico’s in his briefs and a black hoodie, pin straight hair tangled on the left side of his head and eyes still puffy. Even so he looks handsome, all dimples and sleepy smiles as you help him whisk eggs for breakfast.

The quiet is nice. Not that you don’t love the ruckus of having your family in the house with you, but you also love the moments you can just exist with Nico.

No Jack also means no pounding headache.

“Why are you drinking that?” You ask Nico when he places two glasses of iced matcha on the countertop in front of you.

He shrugs, sliding one over to you before bringing the other up to his lips and taking a sip. You don’t miss the way his nose slightly scrunches, green foam lingering on his top lip.

Giggling, you reach over the island counter and cup his jaw, wiping the matcha away with your thumb.

“You like it,” he explains, catching your wrist when you pull back and bringing it closer, pressing a kiss to your palm. “Figured I’d try again.”

His voice is still deep and gruff, lazy accent lisping some of the words and it’s so cute you can’t help but smile at him.

The compliment is on the tip of your tongue, eager to jump out just so you can see him blush and get all shy, but the words never come. They’re forgotten by the soft knock on the front door.

Eyebrows furrowing, Nico looks at you and then towards the entryway to the front door, and back to you.

“Don’t look at me,” you say, taking your hand back and reaching for your glass instead. “I don’t know anyone here.” You take a drink, following him out of the kitchen and down the short hallway.

The figure of a woman looms through the blurred glass of the door, but Nico must recognize her because he puts a hand out to stop you.

Your heart stutters, fear clawing at your throat when he turns to you and looks worried. You know that look, know what it means. Whoever is outside the door shouldn’t be here, more for your sake than Nico’s.

Immediately you think of Lena, imagine that somehow she’s found her way back to Switzerland and is here to torment you some more.

“Shit, sorry, s’ok I swear,” he immediately soothes, taking your face in his hands. Nico strokes your cheeks, biting at his lip as you let his words sink in for a second. It’s not until you’ve taken two deep breathes do you realize that you’re practically tearing a hole in his hoodie where you’ve biting your hand in the fabric to hold onto him.

“S-sorry,” you whisper embarrassed, struggling to get your knuckles to relax.

He shakes his head. “Don’t be sorry for that,” he tells you earnestly, whatever else he was gonna say interrupted by another knock on the door.

“Nico, I can hear you at the door. Open up.”

It’s his mother, you realize, immediately understanding why he looked at you like that. You haven’t seen Katja since the family lunch all those days ago and you suppose she’s heard about what happened and is here to talk about it with Nico. Especially since one of the people you forced Luca to banish did business with Rino.

You let go of Nico and take a deep breath, placing your hand on his back in what you hope is a comforting manner as he undoes the lock and opens the door.

Katja is dressed to the nines, her styled hair tucked under a fur winter hat that matches the long fur coat she wears. Diamonds peak out from under the collar, matching the ones on her ears and her finger. You look down, notice that even her snow boots are slick and elegant, and somehow look like they even have a heel in them.

Suddenly the boxers you stole from Nico and his old Team Suisse shirt feel like rags on you.

Kicking the fresh snow off her boots, she enters the house and you and Nico both step back in sync. As if being approached by a dog with foam at its lips.

“Glad to see you’re still a morning bird,” she says in greeting, adjusting her Chanel purse in the crook of her elbow.

“You too,” Nico replies, running his fingers through his hair in an attempt to tame the tangles and knots. “Father still asleep?”

Katja clicks her tongue. “You know how he is, him and Luca, out like logs until at least 10.”

Insecure and unsure of what to do, you just nod at her words and reach up to fix the cowlick at the nape of Nico’s neck for him. That was the wrong move, however, because now she’s looking at you.

“Hello y/n,” she says politely, and while her face looks just as emotionless as it did when you met her, there’s something in her tone that’s different. Something that feels familiar.

“Good morning Katja,” you croak out, fingers finding your pendant and clutching at the metal. “Do you want coffee or anything? Nico and I were making breakfast if you want to stay?”

You’re rambling, you know that, but it’s suddenly hit you that she’s looking at the bruises on your throat and the healing stitches on your head. The last thing you want is for her to say something, and you’re tempted to duck behind Nico and hide.

Instead you keep yapping.

“Nico take your moms coat and-“

“That’s quite alright,” she cuts in, stopping Nico from reaching for her things. “I stopped by to see if you’d like to take a drive with me?”

You freeze, mouth parted in confusion and dig your fingertips against the pointy horns of the devils charm.

“Mother we’re not even dressed-“

“Not you,” she cuts him off, “just y/n.”

Once again you don’t even know what to say. What does she want with you? Is she mad about Lena’s family? Does she want to take you away from Nico so she can banish you from the country as well?

Realistically you know that would do nothing to keep you from Nico. He’d give up Switzerland for you, you’re sure of it. He’s given it up before for less. The thought is still terrifying though, mostly because she’s terrifying.

“She doesn’t go without me,” Nico states firmly, reaching his hand behind him for you. You cling to it, hold on for dear life to keep from spiraling into an anxiety attack.

Katja looks at him with stern eyes and an unimpressed tilt of her head. You don’t know what makes you say it but before either of them can speak you spitting out an agreement.

“Of course I’ll go,” you squeeze Nico’s fingers when he whips around to look at you. “Just let me change.”

Pleased, she folds her hands in front of her and nods. Nico stares at you in bewilderment, shaking his head and turning to hide you from his mother with his body.

“It’s ok,” you whisper to him. “I’ll just go for a bit and I’ll call you if I need to.”

He just keeps shaking his head. “You’re still recovering, and you don’t know what she wants or-“

“She’s your mother, Nico. It doesn’t matter what it is, I need to go.”

Unimpressed and annoyed, he sighs through his nose. You let go of his hand, reach up to hold his pouting cheeks. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you force a smile.

“What’s the worst that can happen?” You joke, but he doesn’t think that’s funny by the way he glances at the wounds on your skin and scoffs.

You kiss his cheek in apology, quickly ducking away and towards the stairs to change. Hopefully giving him a bit with just his mother will calm him down, and give him a chance to set some ground rules.

Toothbrush hanging between your lips and deodorant stick in hand, you picture him standing over Katja, hands on his hips as he tells her how long you can be gone, what streets and neighborhoods to avoid, that you’re phone is to be on and in your hand every second.

Capping the deodorant, you finish scrubbing your teeth, spitting toothpaste into the sink with a grin. Nico can be overbearing and overprotective, but you love him for it. His instructions and rules never feel like too much, like he’s restricting you. Instead they make you feel safe, loved. It’s a nice feeling to have again after feeling so scared and embarrassed lately.

Ten minutes later you’re tiptoeing down the stairs to find Nico sitting across from his mother in the living room, the mess of pillows and blankets from the boys splayed out on the floor between them.

“Sorry about the mess,” you tell her, Nico rising at the sound of your voice. He’s got your coat in his arm and your boots resting by his feet. “The boys stayed up late playing video games last night.”

Katja looks around, slightly confused. “The boys?”

Nico holds your jacket open for you, helps you slip your arms in. “From Jersey,” he answers. “A few of them flew out to see her.”

You turn and his fingers fall to the zipper, latching it and dragging it up to your chest. He’s still pouting when you look at him, thick fingers now snapping the buttons shut for you.

Katja makes a noise of understanding. Holding Nico’s shoulders for balance, you shove your feet into the boots, not even thinking about tying them since you’re just sitting in the car. That’s not good enough for Nico though because he sits back in the couch, leaning down to tie them for you.

Your cheeks burn, Katja’s gaze heavy on you as her son bundles you up through grumpy sighs and petulant eyes. Dodging her eyes, you wiggling your feet in your too-tightly tied boots while Nico rises to his feet again.

“Phone?” He questions and you dig it out of your pocket to show him you have it. Nodding proudly, you put it away and he smooths your hair down.

“30 minutes,” he informs you, and you try not to laugh as his predictability. “If you’re gonna be late, if roads are bad, if you don’t feel well you call me.”

You nod through his words, making sure to not look away from his eyes so he knows you’re listening. “Don’t get down anywhere, unless you absolutely have to, and don’t talk to anyone but Katja, understand?”

Narrowing your eyes, you hold your fingers to your forehead and salute him. “Aye aye boss,” you joke and he rolls his eyes, features easing up as he fights off an amused smile.

“Alright, alright,” Nico relents, pressing a chaste kiss to the top of your head before dropping his hands to his hips. “Get outta here, I’m gonna get ready and finish breakfast for when you get back.”

“Ok,” you murmur, lightly taking his chin between your thumb and pointer finger, overgrown beard tickling the pads of them. “Just don’t shave, alright?”

He looks at you fondly, something warm swirling in those pretty brown eyes of his. “Aye aye boss,” he mocks, left eye fluttering into a wink.

You let go, clearing your throat and turning to Katja. “Ready?”

She’s watching you both with a raised eyebrow, curiosity swimming in her eyes and the look is so similar to Nico it makes you stutter, as if she’s looking right into you the way he does.

“Yes, very well,” she rises from the couch, looks at Nico. “I’ll obey the rules, Nico.”

He doesn’t give any indication that he’s heard her and it makes your skin crawl uncomfortably. “Let’s go then,” you say weakly, motioning to the door. Nico follows you out, stands in the open doorway as Katja gets into the backseat of a black car. You look back at him, meet those strong and certain eyes of his.

And he nods just once, his silent way of telling you he’s sure it’s ok, it’s safe. You slide in behind his mother, let the driver close the door behind you and watch him through the tinted window as the car rolls down the snow covered driveway.

~~~~

Katja spends the first five minutes of her time in silence. The car creeps down the freshly cleared roads, a cruising pace like it has all the time in the world. You hold your phone in you hand, anxiously lighting up the screen every 30 seconds to check the time and make sure Nico didn’t call or text.

Finally, she motions to the driver and a partition slides up, sealing you two off from other ears. For some reason, that makes you more nervous. Why does she not want her driver listening in?

Sweating, you press the seat warmer button to lower the temperature. Across the car, Katja clears her throat.

“For a moment back there, I thought you and Nico were hiding grandchildren from me.”

It catches you off guard. Of all the things to talk about, she’s saying that? Even more confusing, what does she mean by that? What could make her think you and Nico were secretly parenting children this whole time?

Sending your confusion, she continues. “The mess at the house and the ‘boys’ you referred to. I was afraid I had missed out another part of my son’s life.”

“Oh,” you say dumbly, fiddling with your phone and looking over at her. She’s already looking at you. “Um, Nico wouldn’t do that-we wouldn’t do that. I know he doesn’t share a lot, but he’d share that.”

She lips curl into just the tiniest smile, her eyes gleaming with mirth. “I believe you know my son very well. Apparently you don’t know how much he despises this family.”

Shockingly, she doesn’t sound angry or upset. Neutral, like she’s reporting the weather to you. It makes your heart ache for her. You can’t imagine being a mother and feeling nothing when your child doesn’t like you.

That’s an experience you don’t want to have.

“He loves you,” you tell her, feeling like she has to at least know that. “He tells me that all the time. That he does love everyone here, but he’s different from you.”

Her fingers clench in her lap, so quickly you think you might have imagined it. The rest of her stays stoic and poised.

“I raised Nico in a very specific way. All three of my children were planned, brought up in different ways. It’s simply the way this life works.

“Nico never wanted to be a part of it.”

You don’t really get what she’s saying. It doesn’t matter. Katja glances at your throat, something sad settling in her eyes and continues talking.

“My husband is an only child. He inherited the business from his father. And that left him vulnerable. From the moment Rino and I married we knew we wanted three children, enough to keep the business - and those around it- safe.

“I’m afraid that lesson never made it to Nico. He was always a little rebellious, always stubborn-“

“Determined,” you quickly add, smiling softly when Katja lights up at the word. “Once something is in his head, there’s no stopping it.”

She chuckles fondly. “Yes, determined. And he was determined to get as far away from us as possible.”

The car keeps rolling through the town, the clock shows you have twenty more minutes before Nico will be tearing through the streets, most likely with the boys behind me, still dressed in pajamas and half asleep.

“Nico didn’t see what the business was like when it was just Rino. The way it left us- me vulnerable.”

Katja clears her throat uncomfortably. A rock settles in your gut, the purpose of this conversation becoming clear.

“You were hurt.” It’s not a question. You know the answer.

She inhales, “Yes, a few times. Back then it wasn’t terrible, there was a code against harming the women of the business. But I was intimidated, taken, scared. Anything to rattle Rino, make him give it all up.”

“Did he ever try?” You ask.

Katja nods. “He said he would try but we both know he wouldn’t. This is his life, it’s all he’s known. So we expanded instead, planned our kids and where they would be. In order to protect each other.”

That’s why he was supposed to go to Germany, that’s why his whole life was planned out for him. He was meant to have the role since before he was even born.

You can’t imagine how angry his parents must have been when he vanished.

“Nico being overseas doesn’t give him that protection.” You state.

Katja simply nods, eyebrows pinching sympathetically. “And by extension, you either.”

The car falls silent as you take in her words. Suddenly you’re mad. What right does she have in telling you this? Of showing her disappointment in Nico’s decisions and turning it on you?

“Are you trying to scare me into not being with him?” You snip, “Tell me I’m not safe, that I won’t ever be because you don’t like that Nico chose his own life?”

The time on her little car ride is winding down. The driver circles the block, begins the slow drive back to the house.

“I’m trying to make sure you know what you’ve gotten into,” Katja replies back, her tone a little heated.

“I do know. I-“

“Are you going to marry Nico?”

You pause, confused on the sudden shift but nod. “Yeah I am.”

She looks out the window for a moment and you wonder if somehow you’ve become the most disappointing thing in Nico’s life to her.

Then she turns back.

“This life will always be harder for us,” shockingly, Katja reaches her left hand out and places it on your forearm. “We have taught Nico very well, all of our children. But he’s the first of them to bring marriage into his business. And the fear that comes with that? The sacrifice? It’s something that can’t be taught.”

You understand where Katja comes from. And you’ve known that Nico will never know what it’s like to be in your place as the wife of the boss. If anything, this trip shows that. He had no understanding at all for what happened with you and Lena.

But Katja has failed to take into account that this happened away from home, away from the Devs.

“It’s not a business to us,” you say softly, placing your hand over hers. The large diamond ring on her finger cuts into your palm. “In Jersey, we’re a family. And Nico has made sure everyone in that family knows we take care of each other.”

Katja is such a hard woman to read. She’s always composed and cold, like a Barbie doll brought to life. For the first time since you’ve met her, emotion swells in her gaze and it takes you moment to realize its relief.

She’s been scared. This whole time she was scared for Nico and his safety. Maybe even for your safety.

You swallow, look down at where your hand is holding hers. “I know Nico disappointed you all when he left, but you should know that you gave the world the most strong, level-headed, and capable man I’ve ever met.”

Katja is watching you through wet eyes when you meet her gaze. “He is so easy to love,” you say earnestly. “Even when he’s purposely trying to make it difficult.”

That makes her laugh. You imagine Nico’s always enjoyed pushing against those that love him, testing the strength of that bond.

“I wouldn’t have chosen him and this life if I didn’t think he was worth it. And I can say the same thing for the dozens of boys and men back home that have followed him too.

“We’re not vulnerable, we’re not alone. We’re a family.”

Katja sniffles, blinking away the tears in her eyes and you let go of her hand so she can collect herself. Giving her a moment, you unlock your phone to text Nico that you’re almost home. As usual his response is instant.

Good, I miss you

You bite at your lip, overwhelmed with how much you fucking love him. Another text comes in.

Do I need to kill her?

Unfortunately, you have no idea if he’s saying that to make you laugh or if he’s actually serious. A part of you thinks he’s actually serious. Somehow, that makes it even funnier.

Nico is on the doorstep when you the car pulls up to the house. He’s put on jeans and a beanie, the same hoodie from this morning covering his torso.

His eyes follow the driver as he climbs out of the car and comes around to open your door. You step out, meet Nico’s gaze and hope he can read you. Like always, he can and you can see him visibly relax from across the way.

Katja slips out of the car behind you, whispering something in Swiss German to her driver before walking up the drive with you.

“Mother,” Nico greets, pushing off the doorway he was leaning against. “You’re thirty seconds late.”

She breathes out a laugh, shaking her head fondly at her son and much to your enjoyment, Nico’s cheeks flush. You watch him bite back his grin, try to hide his own amusement even though his dimples give it away immediately.

“My apologies son,” Katja says warmly, not even a bit sorry. Pulling your hands into your sleeves, you squeeze them together to fight off the cold and wonder how Nico could possibly be standing out here in just his hoodie.

Both him and Katja notice at the same time, Nico reaching out for your elbow and pulling you up a step. Instinctively you give him your hands, curling forward when he takes them between his and brings them up to his mouth. Blowing warm air on them, you catch his mother’s eye and feel your ears burn with shyness.

You wonder if she’s used to seeing Nico like this, if she remembers how sweet and kind he is. Did he even get to be like this around them? Or was his life always so cold and scripted?

Katja’s eyes shine with pride, her left eye falling into an effortless wink before settling back on her son.

“I should let you two get back inside, warm up and rest.”

Nico straightens out, still cupping your hands in his large ones. He looks confused, probably having expected more from her visit. You’ll have to tell him that this might have been your favorite moment from the whole trip.

“Before I go,” she digs into her purse, pulls out a little black box and you feel your heart jump into your throat. “I wanted to give you this.”

You pull back from Nico so he can take the box, his own fingers trembling now as he grabs it from her palm. Looking up at him, he looks shocked. Lips parted in awe.

“This is…” he trails off, opens it to reveal the most stunning silver wedding band you’ve ever seen. The diamond is smaller than the one Katja has on, but it’s bright and beautiful, surrounded by tiny little green gems. “This is supposed to go to Luca.”

Nico’s argument sounds weak and breathless, like he’s in disbelief and doesn’t even know what to do with the ring. Based on his words you guess it’s a family heirloom, a ring from a grandmother or great grandmother that is supposed to go to the oldest son.

Katja shakes her head, reaches over to gently close the lid of the box and rest her fingers over Nico’s. “It goes to the son that most deserves it.”

She looks over at you, gives you a smile that is so motherly and tender it makes you ache. “A man is only as strong and capable as the women behind him,” she turns to Nico. “And you son, are the strongest and most capable man I could’ve ever hoped to bring into this world.”

~~~~

You and Nico don’t talk about it. He presses a kiss to the side of your head as you stand in the entryway, peeling off your boots and jacket. Then he’s dashing up the stairs, and you clean up and put away all your layers.

In the kitchen you find breakfast still warm on the stove so you serve two plates for you and Nico, putting the rest aside for the boys when they get up. You drink your slightly watered down matcha, throwing Nico’s in the sink because you know he won’t drink it and pull out the cold brew you’d put in the fridge for him yesterday.

He comes into the kitchen just as you’re adding a bit of milk to it, eyes lighting up when he sees it. “Where’d ya get that?”

“The fridge,” you sass, laughing when he sneaks up behind you and wraps his arms around your middle. His beard tickles your skin when he tucks his face into the crook of your neck, pressing loud and obnoxious kisses there.

He’s gentle, careful to not agitate your healing bruises and the soft movements make you laugh even more. Nico doesn’t pull away until your laughs have turned to silent gasps for air and you’re pretty much a puddle in his arms, weight held up by him.

He’s laughing too, when he pulls back, turning you to face him. You wipe at your cheeks, smiling so wide your jaw aches and you look at him through wet eyelashes.

Nico’s always been beautiful. You’ve known that since the moment he winked at you from across The Rock. But sometimes he still manages to steal your breath away. When he’s so happy it radiates off of him, all dimples and rosy cheeks, eyes shining and framed by laugh lines.

He looks at you like that now, your heart doing flips and you giggle like a school girl. His smile widens at the sound and he leans in to kiss between your eyes.

“Thank you baby,” he says, reaching around you for his coffee. You clear your throat, try to catch your breath and calm your racing heart.

“Want to eat breakfast in bed?” He suggests and you jump at the offer. Eagerly nodding, you gather your matcha and his coffee, and he grabs the plates.

~~~~

Staring out the large window at the mountains in front of you, you blink sluggishly as Nico gently combs his fingers through your hair.

“Do you want to talk about?”

His voice is low and soft, like he’s afraid you might have been sleeping and he doesn’t want to wake you. You wonder if he’s been doing that all week, trying to talk to you in these in-between moments and he always caught you when you weren’t awake.

“About what?”

He hums, the sound vibrating in his chest and against your spine. You can’t see his face, but you’d imagine it’s disappointed in your lack of confrontation. Nico has never known you to shy away from things, and you feel bad for doing it now.

“Whatever you want,” he says easily “the ring, my mother, Timo…” the silence he leaves speaks volumes, both of you knowing what he’s leaving unspoken.

Your heart thumps loudly, nervous and scared of addressing what you know he really wants to talk about. But he’s given you all this time to hide, to ignore all the ugly parts of this trip. Hell, he’s even gone out of his way to defend you from the hard conversation you should be having with Timo.

This is something you can longer run from. Not with that big sparkly ring tucked away somewhere in this room.

“If I wanted to leave,” you start, voice wobbling. “Would you let me?”

You’re not talking about the house, the town, or even Switzerland as a whole. You mean it all; him, the boys, the Devils.

He understands. You can tell by the way his chest rises when he inhales, the breath deep and trembling.

“Yes,” he says after a moment, voice quiet and hallow “if that’s really what you wanted to do, if that’ll make you safe and happy, then yeah I would. And I’d do everything I could to make it happen.”

You wait with bated breath, staring out the window at the lazy snowfall and the snow capped Alps, not that you’re actually seeing it. All you can see is him.

“Before you’d do that,” he continues, that determine edge creeping back into his tone and you feel your heart jump into your throat. “I’d offer something else.”

“Yeah?” You croak out, “what?”

“Me,” Nico murmurs, and his lips ghosts against your neck, breath warm on your skin. “I’d give it up. Take out the inheritance I put into it and sign everything over to the ones that came with me.

“And I’d take you anywhere you want to go, build you a new house for us and the dog and- and maybe a family even. Whatever you want to do, just as long as I get to keep you.”

Relief washes through you, the anxiety and fear that Katja had knowingly put into your heart deflating. Rino never offered her that, was never willing to pick her over everything. And maybe that’s why she’s been so unsafe this whole time. Maybe what her and Rino have is nothing compared to what you and Nico have.

You crawl up onto your knees, moving so that you can face Nico and fall into his lap. He’s droopy, eyes sad and lips pulled down into a frown. Even his hair looks sad, flopping into his eyes that watch you so intently.

His hands shake when they find your hips, drawing you closer to him and you wrap your arms around his neck.

“You get to keep me,” you agree, tongue feeling heavy as tears well up in your eyes. “And you can keep to Devs. I just had to know-“

“If I’d do it,” he cuts in, clearing his throat nervously. “I have a plan for us,” Nico swears, his voice wobbling with emotion and you reach up to push his hair out of his eyes, stroke your thumb over the frown lines between his eyebrows. “In every universe I have plan for us, no matter what I have to give up to make it happen.”

Unable to speak around the lump in your throat, you just nod. But that doesn’t stop the sniffles or the water that blurs your vision. Before you know it you’re crying, big, fat tears rolling down your cheeks and you can’t stop it.

Nico doesn’t even shush you or try to make you stop. He simply reaches up and wipes at your splotchy cheeks, even though it does nothing to keep them dry. You tuck into his shoulder, hiding the stupid whimpers that are squeaking out from your chest into his hoodie.

“It’ll be ok baby,” he coos, rubbing up and down your back gently, and smoothing down your hair. Nico feels so safe, so big and protective holding you like this and the words you’ve been holding back since the hospital finally find the strength to come out, knowing that at the very least he’s got you.

“I failed Nico,” its garbled mess of words, muddied down by your crying and sniffling and his hoodie. You’re surprised he even heard you. But he did.

“What do you mean sweetheart?” He tries to guide you away from his shoulder, and you dig your nails into his bicep to hold on tighter. You’re too ashamed to look him in the eye.

Turning your head, you press your cheek to him so he can hear you this time.

“I did everything I was supposed to do last time and then I got here and it was like I couldn’t think. I left you and Timo, and then I ran and I didn’t even think or fight back. I didn’t do anything you or Timo told me.”

You feel hysterical, squeezing your eyes shut as the words just keep tumbling out and out. And all poor Nico can do is hold you and hope to god it’s enough.

“I was just a stupid crying girl, it was Philly all over again and I kept passing out and crying. How am I supposed to do this, to be this person? I can’t take care of you or the boys, I can’t even take care of myself.”

He sits up, holding you so tightly you almost can’t breathe but it for reason makes you feel even better. Tucking back into your hiding spot, you stifle your whimpers into his neck again and Nico begins to gently rock you back and forth.

“You didn’t fail anyone baby,” maybe it’s the way he’s holding you, like he’s trying to physically gather up the words and squeeze them into your ribs and heart. Or maybe it’s his voice, so strong and confident in what he’s saying. Whatever it is, you calm down enough to hear him, to feel his chest move with every syllable.

“I don’t expect you to be perfect, to be able to do everything for everyone. I’ve spent my whole life in this role and I still fuck it up. I fucked it up with the Flyers and god knows I fucked it up here too.

“But you’re safe now and you’re ok. And we’ll do whatever you want to do. If you don’t want to train with Timo anymore, I’ll get more guards. If you want to train with me instead I’ll switch with him.

“Stay at home, work at the cafe, at the bar, whatever role you want here I’ll give to you baby. Just know you have never once failed me.”

Blinking open your puffy and swollen eyes, you hesitantly pull back to look at him. You hiccup, clumpy eyelashes catching together and Nico reaches up again to wipe at your cheeks.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you that day,” you whisper, gaze falling to embroider logo on his chest because you’ll cry again if you see those beautiful eyes of his. “Going behind your back to Luca, calling the boys. I had to do something though, I had to prove that I could do something.”

He cups your jaw, traces the outline of your swollen bottom lip with his thumb but he doesn’t urge you to look at him. Nico’s always been good at knowing when you need a break.

“You killed Marcelo to show us,” he states, not a question or a guess. “You wanted me and Timo to know that you could still do it.”

“I didn’t forget everything,” you nod sadly, peering up at him through your lashes. “I went too far, I know. But I was so scared Nico.”

“I was gonna kill him,” Nico admits, and you tilt your chin up to fully see him. He looks so casual, like he’s talking about the weather outside or dinner tonight, something normal. You suppose violence in this world is normal.

“I was gonna kill Lena too. After I let her know she could never be you.” He shrugs, tucks a loose piece of hair behind your ear. “I think you did it better baby. And I should’ve told you that there but I was scared too. And guilty.

“Being home, I let my guard down. That’s all I could think about when I saw you in the hospital bed.”

Sniffling, you lean back into him, unsure of what else to say. You’re exhausted, your eyes heavy and you’ve got a headache budding in the back of your skull. Nico just holds you, exactly like you want him too.

“I love you,” you murmur, dipping your fingers into the strands of hair at the nape of his neck.

Nico presses a kiss to your temple. “I love you with everything I’ve got baby.”

You close your eyes, inhale deeply to smell his cologne. “I want to marry you.”

His smile touches the side of your face as he presses his cheek against yours, leaning back into the headboard. “I want to marry you too,” he says earnestly “but sleep first ok?”

Not needing to be told twice, you let yourself fade away, telling yourself that you’ll talk to Timo tomorrow. Everything will be fixed tomorrow.

Next

[achilles-rage]

Good Luck Charm: Chapter 13

college football player!buck x plus size!reader

summary: evan takes you back to his house, where you tend to his wounds and talk about what he said earlier.

word count: 5.2k

previous chapter

series masterlist

A/N: the way i was giggling and kicking my feet writing this and got carried away. enjoy them freak nasty<3

warnings: smut, no use of y/n, fem!reader, race inclusive!reader, not proofread

MDNI- 18+ only!

“Are you okay?” you ask against his chest, feeling yourself melting into him as he holds you firmly against his chest.

“I’m fine, don’t worry about me, princess. Are you okay?” he asks, leaning away from you slightly and putting a finger under your chin to force your eyes up to look at him.

“Can we go home now?” you ask as you nod. Your nerves have mostly settled, the short time outside allowing you to catch your breath and slow your heartbeat. While you were still worried about Evan, knowing his teammates were in there with him settled your unease greatly.

“Of course, let’s get you home.” he tells you, leaning in to kiss you softly before he removes his arms from your waist. He’s quick to put an arm around your shoulders as you begin to walk back to his house, not willing to have his hands off of you for a second.

As you walk home, you keep your face angled towards the ground, watching your feet, while Evan scans your surroundings, his arm still firmly draped over your shoulder.

After a few minutes of walking, you shrug out of his grip, wanting to hold his hand instead. You grab his hand, rubbing your thumb across the back of his hand as a way of fidgeting, but you freeze when you hear him wince under his breath. You look up at him with sad eyes as you pull your hand away from his, afraid you’ll hurt him more.

“You’re hurt.” you state, to which he sighs, trying to reach for your hand again.

“It’s nothing, princess. I’ve had worse.” And he has. You saw him playing football. But the fact that he probably got this injury from beating up a guy? For you? It fills you with guilt.

You pull your hand away as he tries to grab yours, instead grabbing it with both hands and holding it up to your face, examining it. You can see a bruise already forming as you pass under a streetlight, and some dried blood littered across his hand. You’re not even sure if it’s his or the other guys, or both, but you don’t care.

“It’s already bruising.” you tell him sadly, looking back up into his eyes, trying to see if it’s causing him any pain now that you’re not touching the injured area.

“Seriously, it’s nothing. It was worth it to deck that bastard in the face.” he says smugly, giving you a smirk as your eyes widen.

“You hit him in the face?” you ask in disbelief. You assumed he pushed him around a little bit, but you didn’t think he’d hurt him that bad. Although, from the damage to his hand, you’re not sure why you didn’t assume that from the beginning.

“Yeah, that’s what he deserves. Grabbing you like that.” His voice is still smug as he speaks, but there’s also a hint of anger coming back into his features, which makes you sigh softly.

“I’m taking a look at it when we get back.” you tell him sternly, suddenly finding a new thing to worry about. You pick up the pace, and you’re now practically dragging him down his street.

“Baby, I’m fine.” he huffs, but doesn’t make a move to pull away from you.

“You’re not getting out of this. You’re hurt because of me.” you say over your shoulder, finally getting to his house and walking up to the front door.

“No, I’m hurt because of him. But if it makes you feel better, you can look at my hand.” he says finally, as if you looking at his hand is a big hassle.

Despite his tone, his heart is pounding in his chest, and he feels a wave of adoration filling his body as he thinks about how eager you are to take care of him.

“And we’re icing it. Don’t argue with me.” you add, looking at him with narrowed eyes as he unlocks the door and lets you both into the dark house.

“Yes ma’am.” He rolls his eyes and shuts the door, a soft chuckle rumbling through his chest as you point to the couch.

He puts up his hands in mock surrender and walks to the couch. He sits down quietly and watches you dig through his freezer, smiling when he sees you hold up a bag of frozen veggies in victory. You grab a paper towel and run it under the tap for a second, then walk into the living room with the paper towel and the frozen veggies.

You straddle his lap absentmindedly, and put the frozen bag on the couch beside Evan before you grab his hand again. You use the paper towel to wipe the blood away, and sigh in relief when you see that the blood on his hand is, in fact, not his.

You put the paper towel on the coffe table behind you, not wanting to get the couch wet, then run your fingers along his hand. You gauge his reaction as your fingers ghost across his knuckles, trying to tell if anything is broken, barely realizing that his other hand has moved to your leg and is gently moving up and down your thigh.

He winces as your hand runs over one of his knuckles, and you raise your shoulders and wince instinctively.

“Does that hurt?” you ask softly, shaking your head at yourself once the words leave your mouth. Of course it hurts, he just winced.

“A little, but it’s not bad. I’ve broken bones before, I know it’s not broken.” he tells you, ducking his head to pull your eyes away from his hand.

“It doesn’t feel broken.” you tell him, looking back up into his eyes.

“Yeah, it’s just bruised. I promise, princess, I’m fine.” You sigh at his words, finally nodding. You raise his hand to your lips and kiss it gently, avoiding the spot that made him wince.

“I wish it didn’t.” you whisper, biting the inside of your cheek as you look down at his hand. His heart is beating out of his chest at your words and actions. He’s not used to someone caring for him this much. He tuts softly, and takes his hand off your thigh to lift your chin with his fingers.

“It’s really not that bad, princess. You don’t have to worry about me.” he tells you in a quiet voice, trying to convey that he’s okay in his expression.

“You punched a guy in the face for me. I feel a little bad.” you say with a small laugh, your hands still holding his injured hand in between them.

“Don’t. I’d do it again in a heartbeat. He put his hands on you. I wasn’t gonna let that slide.” you both stare at each other for a moment, enjoying your close proximity. After a moment, you reach for the frozen bag on the couch, and hold it to his hand. He moves his other hand back to your thigh, resuming his feather light touches. Your cheeks are on fire as you keep your eyes locked on your hands holding the bag, feeling his gaze still on you, studying you.

“Thank you.” you whisper after a moment of silence.

“Of course. You don’t have to thank me.” he says as he shakes his head. He lifts your chin again with his unoccupied hand, giving you a smile. He leans in and gives you a soft kiss, humming quietly.

At this moment, he’s not sure if he’s ever felt this loved and appreciated by someone.

“And thank you for not leaving when I stormed off. Maybe I overreacted to you not telling everyone I was your girlfriend. I can see how it could’ve been instinct. I heard you tell them I was your girlfriend after.” you add once you both pull away.

He was far enough away that it was hard to hear, but you know what you heard. As soon as the word “girlfriend” came out of his mouth, you knew you forgave him. You’re sure he didn’t even know you could hear him, and that made it all the better.

“I wasn’t gonna leave you, princess, even if you were upset. And I am sorry about what I said. I want everyone to know you’re mine, that’s why I had you in my jersey. I’ve never had any other girl wear it.” he says, his hand moving from your chin to your cheek. His thumb runs along your cheekbone, and he’s looking at you in such an intimate way it makes your head spin.

“Yeah? Keep it that way.” you get out after a moment, a hint of teasing in your voice. He chuckles, returning your kiss as you lean into him, humming softly.

It’s not until his hand tilts your head slightly to deepen the kiss that you drop the frozen bag, hands going instead to his shoulders.

With both hands free, he moves them to your hips, pulling you down firmly against him. You begin to move your hips against his slowly, a soft noise escaping your throat as he starts to help guide your movements. You pull back as he squeezes your hips with a worried look in your eye, stopping your movements.

“Doesn’t that hurt your hand?” you ask in a small voice, your lips puffy from the kiss.

“It’s fine, princess. The pain is kind of being overshadowed by a different feeling right now.” he tells you with a smirk, eyes trailing from your face to his jersey across your chest. You’ve barely started moving on him, and he can already feel himself growing hard.

You fight back a smile at his words, shaking your head as his eyes travel down your body.

“You should keep it still.” you tell him sternly, although there’s a soft look in your eye, and he knows you’re only half serious.

“Yeah, but it’s hard when you’re moving your hips like that.” he murmurs, licking his lips as his eyes glance down at your lips.

“Should I stop?” you ask softly, biting your lip as you wait for his response, but you don’t have to wait long, because his next words follow yours almost immediately.

“No, you should definitely not stop.” he says sternly before pulling you back in for a desperate kiss. His lips move down to your jaw, and then your neck as his hands grip your hips, starting to guide them in the same movement as before.

You can feel his hard length under you, and you start to move your hips in his grip, grinding harder against him. You can feel him brushing against your clothed core, and that, paired with his lips on your neck makes you moan softly. Your head is tilted back and your eyes are closed as he nips and sucks on your neck, and your hands are still gripping his shoulders, trying to keep yourself grounded.

“Don’t you have roommates?” you whisper after a moment, opening your eyes, slowly pulling yourself back to reality.

“Mhm. They’re not home. Still at the party.” he gets out between kisses. His lips trail up to your neck, nibbling on your earlobe gently, making you giggle as his breath hits your ear.

“What if they come home?” He groans softly at your words and pulls back to look up at you. His pupils are blown with desire, and his breath is quicker than normal as he feels his heart rate elevating.

“Do you want me to stop?” he asks, watching you bite your lip nervously. He knows you were nervous before about any sort of intimacy, and he doesn’t want to move too quickly.

“You have a bedroom, don’t you?” you tease softly, smiling as he lets out a relieved breath.

You’re not really nervous about being with him anymore, you’re more worried about his roommate walking in on you like yours did. And you assume his won’t be as nonchalant about it.

He grins up at you, and you take that as the queue to get off his lap, taking his hand as he gets up and letting him lead you to his room.

As soon as you’re in his room, your back is pressed against the door. His lips have landed back on your neck, and one hand is on your jaw while the other rests beside your head on the door.

“Have I told you how good you look in my jersey?” he whispers against your neck, his hand moving from the door to your hip. He slides it up under the fabric of his jersey, fingers ghosting your stomach.

“I think you mentioned it once or twice.” you say with a soft laugh, your chest heaving and eyes full of desire.

“Of course I have. My gorgeous girlfriend has my name on her back. God, you drive me crazy.” he tells you before his lips are back on yours. He’s quick to slip his tongue into your mouth, and you’re both moaning into each other's mouth desperately as his hand finally makes its way up to your covered breast.

You bring your hands to his belt loops and pull his hips against yours, desperate for some sort of friction. He chuckles against your lips, a little surprised by your sudden actions. He pulls away and looks down at you with a dazed smile.

“You know what I’d like more than you in my jersey?” he purrs, his other hand moving from your jaw to your hip before he slides it under his jersey and trails up your side.

“What?” you ask breathlessly, lips slightly parted as you look up at him.

“You in nothing but my jersey.” he says smugly, smirking as he notices the way your breath catches in your throat at the idea. “You like the sound of that?”

You nod, closing your lips and swallowing. You can feel desire pooling between your legs, and you have to fight the urge to jump on him.

“Mmm, and you know what’s gonna happen after that?” he asks. You reply with a soft “what?” and he laughs softly at your innocence. “I’m gonna lay you down on my bed, and kiss down your body, all the way down,” he trails off, smirking.

You bite your lip, and in an instant, your hands are moving to your waistband, struggling to undo your jean shorts.

“No, princess. That’s my job.” he tells you sternly as he pulls your hands away, replacing them with his. You bring your hips off the door, letting him slide your shorts and panties down your legs.

“God, you’re gorgeous.” he whispers, more to himself, as his eyes trail down your bare lower half. He pulls you in for a rough kiss again, hands reaching for the hem of his jersey on your body and slowly lifting it.

“Thought you wanted me in your jersey.” you whisper against his lips. He pulls away for a moment and takes his jersey off of you, eyes drinking in the sight of you in nothing but your bra.

“Oh, I do. But I want to look at you completely bare for me first.” he says, his voice just above a whisper. He’s too focused on your body to say anything else. He’s mesmerized by your beauty, by your soft curves. He drapes your jersey over his shoulder, still wanting you to wear it after he’s done looking at you.

He reaches behind you and unhooks your bra with one hand, and a thought enters your mind about how easily he’s able to do it, but you push it to the side. He pushes the straps down your arms until your bra is completely off of you, and he lets it drop to the floor.

You feel slightly awkward as he studies your bare chest, a hungry look in his eyes. You’re suddenly very aware that you’re completely naked, and he still has all his clothes on, and you fight the urge to cross your arms over your chest.

Those thoughts are immediately thrown away when he attacks your neck again, kissing and sucking with a soft groan. His lips move down to your chest, one hand massaging one of your breasts while his mouth focuses on the other. He squeezes your breast softly, then rolls your nipples between his thumbs, which makes you let out a shuttered moan.

He chuckles against your other breast, then moves his lips to wrap around your nipple, now using both hands to squeeze your breasts. His mouth switches to your other breast after a moment to give it the same attention, then pulls back, smirking at your dazed expression.

He finally takes the jersey back off of his shoulder and urges you to raise your arms. You let out a relieved sigh as you obey, letting him pull the jersey back onto you. You feel a little more comfortable in the jersey, and you also feel like his jersey is adding to the way his mouth is claiming you as his.

Once his jersey is on your body, one hand holds your hip firmly while the other moves from your side to the middle of your stomach. He moves it down slowly, and you whine softly once his fingers make light contact with your dripping core.

“So wet for me.” he murmurs, keeping his eyes on your face as he begins to move his fingers in circles around your clit. You bite your lip, moving your hips against his hand instinctively, which makes him smile. He keeps up his teasing of your slit for a moment before he speaks.

“I’m gonna go slow baby, get you nice and stretched out. Are you ready?” he asks you in a soft voice, eyes searching yours to ensure that you are ready. He smiles wider when he sees your nod, and wastes no time in inserting a finger into your heat.

You whimper softly, hands going up to his biceps. He moves his finger in and out of you achingly slowly, trying to get you used to the sensation.

“Taking it so well, baby. You want more?” he asks after a moment, seeing you getting used to the feeling. He chuckles at your desperate nod, your chest heaving as you keep your eyes on him.

He adds another finger slowly, watching your expression intently to make sure you’re still okay. When you buck your hips against his hand, he starts to move again, then curls his fingers up to meet your sensitive spot.

You let out a breathy moan as you tilt your head back, your head hitting the door with a soft thud. You close your eyes, grip tightening on his biceps.

“Uh uh. Open your eyes, princess. Wanna see your pretty eyes.” You open your eyes at his words, and he doesn’t think he’s ever been so turned on. Watching you react so easily to his touches makes his head spin, and the tightness in his jeans is starting to get painful.

“There we go, there’s my girl.” he praises you, beginning to move his fingers faster as his thumb starts to rub circles against your clit.

Your grip on his biceps tightens even more, and your whimpering starts to get even breathier and high pitched. He knows you’re getting close, and he can’t wait to see the sight.

“God, you’re beautiful. Can’t get enough of you.” he whispers, then bites his lip as he watches every reaction you have to his fingers working you slowly.

“Evan.” you get out between pants, feeling your release approaching.

“Let go for me, pretty girl. Come for me.” he tells you softly, and it doesn’t take much longer before you’re coming hard on his fingers with a loud whine. You tilt your head back against the door as he works you through your orgasm, not even registering the smirk on his face.

He slowly removes his fingers from your core and raises them to his mouth. He runs his tongue along his fingers, and then puts his fingers into his mouth, sucking up your juices. He hums at the taste, keeping his eyes locked with yours as he tastes you.

You keep your eyes on his as he does, blinking slowly. Your face heats up at his dark gaze, and you bite your lip.

“You taste so good, princess.” he speaks after he removes his fingers from his mouth. His hands go back to your hips and he pulls you in for a kiss. You taste yourself on his tongue and moan softly, rising onto your toes in an attempt to deepen the kiss.

He smirks against your lips and tightens his grip on your hips. He pulls away from the kiss and in one swift movement, turns you around and pushes you onto the bed. He climbs on top of you immediately, positioning himself between your legs as he holds himself up with his hands on either side of your head.

Your hands move to his own jersey, trying to pull it up, desperate to see more of him. He leans up onto his knees for a moment and pulls off his jersey, letting it drop to the floor before he’s back down on top of you, kissing you hard.

Your hands move down to his belt as you kiss him back, and he pulls back once he feels you working to undo his belt. He raises a brow, which makes you bite the inside of your cheek.

“Wanna help you.” you whisper, suddenly feeling nervous again at the idea.

He smirks at your words, and gets off of you again. He grabs your hands and pulls you off of the bed to stand in front of him.

“Pull them down, princess.” he tells you in a soft voice, gesturing down to his pants. You nod and bite your lip as your hands go to his belt again.

Once your shaky hands undo his belt and unzip his pants, you pull them down, along with his underwear. Your eyes widen slightly at his size, which makes his chest swell with pride. He notices the unsure expression on your face, and he smiles, loving how bashful you’re getting.

“Now put your hand around it.” he instructs you with a small smile. You keep your eyes on his hard length as you reach for it, firmly wrapping your hand around the base. He lets out a quiet moan at the feeling, then grabs your hand. He spits in your hand once you’ve released him, and then guides your hand back to where it was.

“Move it up and down, baby, slow.” You nod as you do what he tells you, looking up at him to gauge his reaction.

He lets out a moan as your hand moves, trying not to buck his hips against your hand, trying to let you take it at your own pace. Right now, he wants your lips wrapped around his aching cock more than anything, but he knows this is enough for you to take in right now, so he lets you continue.

You start to get more bold as you take in his moans and quickened breathing, and you move your hand quicker, ghosting your thumb over the head of his cock. He moans loudly at your actions, his hips bucking slightly against your hand.

“God, princess, where’d you learn that?” he asks softly, a soft chuckle escaping his throat. You look up at him with a sheepish smile as you shrug. You may have never done this before, but you still know some things.

You keep moving your hand on him, speeding up as his groans get breathier. You smile as you feel his dick twitch in your hand, knowing he’s getting close. You’re quick to lower onto your knees in front of him, keeping your hand moving as you think of him coming in your mouth.

He growls as you kneel in front of him, almost coming on the spot, and moves one hand down to your wrist, pulling your hand away from his length and replacing it with his own.

“You want me to cum on your tongue, pretty girl?” he asks smugly, smirking as he sees you nod desperately. “Open your pretty little mouth for me, princess.”

You do as you’re told, opening your mouth and sticking your tongue out. This is all it takes for him to reach his peak, shooting hot ropes of cum into your mouth.

He groans as he sees his release dripping down your chin, watching you keep your mouth open until he’s empty. You close your mouth once he’s finished, swallowing eagerly.

“Fuck, princess, do you have any idea what you do to me?” he growls, grabbing your hands and pulling you back up. He moans against your lips as he leans back into you, desperate to have your silky walls wrapped around his leaking cock.

He kisses you for a minute or two, hands touching and grabbing at every part of you he can until you push him back, forcing him to sit on the edge of his bed. You straddle his lap, grinding your dripping core against his aching length, eliciting moans from both of you. He pulls back once he hears the soft “please” escape your lips, looking up at you with an awestruck expression.

“You trust me, baby?” he asks you softly, one hand still on your hips while the other rubs your cheek gently. You nod as you reply with a whispered “yes,” and he smiles.

“Good. It’s gonna hurt at first, but you’ve just gotta breathe and keep your eyes on me, okay?” You nod again, raising your hips off of his lap, looking down as his hand positions himself at your entrance.

He teases your slit for a moment before you finally sink onto him slowly, getting impatient. You tense as the pain washes over you, stopping halfway down and closing your eyes.

“Look at me, sweet girl. Open your eyes. I know it hurts, but you’ve gotta relax. You’re making it worse.” he tells you in a sweet voice, thumbs rubbing light circles over your hips, hoping to calm your nerves.

He fights back a groan as he feels how tight you are, but he knows you’re just tense and nervous. He waits as long as he has to for you to finally relax, feeling you unclench around him.

He smiles as you sink down the rest of the way, groaning as he feels your slick, warm walls envelope him. He fights the urge to move you himself, knowing he needs to let you control the pace.

“There we go, baby, just like that. You’re doing so good. You need a minute?” he whispers, nodding as he sees you nod. He grabs your cheek with one hand and pulls you in for a kiss, hoping to distract you as you get used to his size. Your hands are tightly gripping his shoulders as you kiss him back, and he pulls away from the kiss once your grip loosens.

“Are you ready to move?” You nod, biting your lip as you slowly start to move back and forth against him, which makes him groan.

“Go at your pace baby. Go however slow you want.” he tells you, keeping your hips firmly in his grasp, helping you with your movements.

As you continue to move, you feel the pain being pushed away as the pleasure moves to the forefront of your mind. You slowly start to lift your hips off him, moving up and down on his cock as you whimper loudly.

He smirks as you begin to get more comfortable riding him, and after giving you a second to move up and down on him, he leans back on the bed and starts to buck his hips up into yours with a moan. He watches every reaction on your face as he thrusts up into you, keeping his grip firmly on your hips.

“You’re doing so good for me, princess. Such a good girl.” he mutters, one hand moving up under your jersey and roughly grabbing your breast, rolling your nipple between his finger and thumb again.

You throw your head back as you keep moving your hips against his, desperate for your quickly approaching release. He senses you’re getting close, and he’s relieved, feeling his own approaching as well.

He moves his hand from your breast to your clit, circling it with his thumb as he keeps up with his hard thrusts. You tilt your head back down to look at him, moving your hands to his chest, using it as leverage to keep moving, so overtaken by pleasure that you can’t make out any words.

“Just like that, sweet girl. Use me.” he pants, smirking as he sees your legs starting to tremble and shake against him.

“You gonna come again, princess? You wanna come on my cock?” he purrs, making your moan loudly as you nod.

“Please.” you get out through your whimpers, chest heaving as you feel yourself teetering on the edge.

“Come for me, princess. Let me hear you.” You feel him twitch inside of you, and with one or two more thrusts, you’re coming around his cock with a loud whimper.

Feeling you clench around him is all it takes to send him over the edge. He comes with a loud groan, feeling his come fill you up.

He stays inside of you as he looks up at you, trying to catch your breath. He pulls you down by the neck gently and kisses you passionately, feeling your hands placed so delicately on his chest.

“You did so good for me, baby. God, you’re so beautiful.” he tells you in a soft voice once he pulls away.

You smile absentmindedly at his words, closing your eyes as you take in the feeling of his cock still inside of you.

After a few minutes you raise your hips off of him, groaning as you feel him slide out of you. His eyes are glued to your core, and he bites his lip as he watches your mixed release dripping down your thighs.

You lay on the bed beside him, your breathing finally going back to normal as you lay beside each other in silence. After a moment he gets up and crosses the room, reaching for a towel in his closet and bringing it back over to you.

He wipes his release off your thighs, finishing with a soft kiss to your forehead. He throws it somewhere in the room, and then lays down with his head on one of his pillows, urging you to come lay beside him again. You move up to him and rest your cheek on his chest, sighing happily as you listen to his heartbeat.

He knows at this moment that he can never let you go, and you have to fight hard to stay awake, so content with feeling his warm skin against your cheek and his fingers ghosting over your thigh that’s draped over his hips.

next chapter

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[yokohamapound]

POV: You're Fyodor's perfect little housewife and I've been playing with @honeydazai's Husband Fyodor bot way too much. This is Vee's fault. And @amostimprobabledream too, now that I think about it.

Characters: Fyodor Dostoevsky

Contents: afab!reader, femme clothing, gendered terms "wife", "girl", NSFW, controlling relationship, dom-sub themes, sex toys

Fyodor Dostoevsky

The bubbling hiss of sauce simmering in the pan covers the sound of Fyodor's return. Steam from the stovetop billows in warm, savoury clouds against your face whilst you prepare supper. You've twisted your hair up off your neck to keep it out of the way, but little strands escape to curl damply against your forehead and around your ears.

He closes the front door behind him with care, sliding the bolt home. He leaves his coat hanging on the wrought-iron stand by the door, his ushanka on the hallway table. Silent footsteps proceed along the hall, following the delicious smells drifting from the kitchen.

Fyodor likes to sneak in sometimes, mostly for his own amusement. He wants to see what his little myshka gets up to while he isn't home, and more importantly, it keeps you on your toes. You'll never know exactly when he might simply walk into a room or appear behind you, so it behoves you to be the ideal little housewife at all times. It is a role you've taken to whole-heartedly. 

Today, Fyodor is treated to the sight of you standing in the kitchen, preparing dinner in anticipation of his imminent return. His sharp violet gaze is heavy lidded as he takes in the vulnerable arch of the back of your neck, a single tendril of hair lying against your nape where it has escaped your chignon.

An apron edged in frills has been tied over your dress du jour—white today, with a tight bodice and a skirt that flares out over your hips, stopping in a froth of silk midway down your thighs.

And then...then there are the stockings that sheathe your legs in gossamer-thin silk, lace tops clinging lovingly to your thighs. Your legs are turned out beautifully thanks to the high heels that keep you ever so slightly off balance, like a newborn fawn—graceful and lovely and oh, so vulnerable.

That isn't the only thing keeping you off balance, of course. Fyodor is a chessmaster. He always has more than one avenue of attack.

Fyodor reaches into his pocket.

His long fingers curl around a small, rectangular device. It's deceptively simple, just a little black box, with two buttons and a dial. His thumb brushes the dial, nudging it up a few notches.

The effect is immediate.

A gasp echoes through the expansive kitchen. You stiffen in place, clamping your soft thighs together. Your hands fumble, grip the counter, and your head droops like a wilting flower. Fyodor's smile widens, his eyes darkening as he twists the dial higher, knowing exactly what it will mean for you. 

You see, under that pretty little dress of yours, there's a pair of panties in the same lace, bridal-white, that matches your stockings. He knows, because he picked them out for you this morning, then slipped a special little reminder inside them, with the express order that it not be removed.

A paired device nestles up against your swollen, aching clit, buzzing and vibrating without cease. Poor thing, you've had to endure it all day, through all of your chores and wifely duties, the intensity subject to Fyodor's whim, the patterns erratic so it can never be ignored.

This new wave pulses through you, heat coiling along your spine as you rock your hips, trying desperately for release. Unaware your tormenter is standing a few feet away behind you, enjoying your predicament. The beastly little vibrator shudders against you, humming on and off, kept in place by the sodden lace and the weight of Fyodor's authority.

"Careful." Fyodor's richly-accented, amused voice lilts through the kitchen. "Don't let the dinner burn, darling."

Your head snaps up. You go to turn around, but he merely pushes the intensity up some more until you can hardly stand. All you can do is tremble, leaning your weight on your arms where they rest on the polished countertop.

"W-Welcome home, Fedya," you manage, your voice shaking. It wouldn't do to forget your manners, no matter the torment he's inflicting on you. You wouldn't want to make him decide you need...correcting. "I..."

"Such a good, obedient wife," your husband, your master, muses. "Dinner almost on the table as soon as I get home. It smells delicious, my love."

"Th-thank—"

Before you can do anything else, you find yourself penned in against the countertop. Fyodor's hands planted either side of you, his breath warming the back of your neck.

"There is something else I have an appetite for, before dinner," he says, his voice low, smoky, in your ear. "I think you can satisfy both, darling."

The word 'darling' is punctuated by a kiss, cool lips pressing to the top of your spine, revealed where the neckline of your dress dips a little at the back.

"I trust you don't object, myshka?"

Not only do you know better than to deny him, your body is all but begging for release. All day you've been kept on the edge, a fraction of an inch from toppling over into sweet, carnal bliss, only to be denied at the last instant as the toy shuts off or changes pattern. You know better than to take matters into your own hands. Even if he's busy with work, Fyodor will know.

He may not truly have a god complex, but he has you convinced of his omnipotence.

You bob your head, an obedient, jerky nod. Fyodor lets out a low, satisfied hum. 

"Good girl," he says. 

He reaches out a hand and flicks the stove off. He doesn't want you to move from where you are, so perfectly positioned for him, but he doesn't want to spoil all your hard work by letting the dinner burn. How thoughtful he is.

Fingertips brush against the backs of your thighs, the touch bordering on icy through the fragile lace. Fyodor traces the backs of his fingers down the sleek line of your thigh, causing the limb to shake. 

Or it might be the incessant pressure against your clit, the syncopated buzzing that makes heat pulse low through your belly. A soft, needy sound leaves you, one that makes him chuckle. Fyodor’s hand slips between your thighs, tracing along the lace of your underwear. You jolt, which only forces you against the vibrator again. 

A smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth. Look at you, his poor darling, with nowhere to move that won’t cause you more pleasure. 

Slender fingers stroke your slit through the soaked fabric, fingertips tapping against the toy, pushing it against you just that little bit more. Gripping the edge of the counter, it’s all you can do to keep your footing. Heat simmers underneath your skin with nowhere to go. Restless, you ache, you crave. 

“Tell me, my darling,” Fyodor intones, his voice right by your ear, his breath tickling your cheek. “How has your day been? Did you like my little love token?”

He brushes aside that straying tendril of hair to kiss your throat, lips pressing against where your pulse races just beneath the thin, vulnerable skin. He can feel your voice reverberate through your throat as you utter one, obedient syllable.

“Yes.”

“Good girl,” he all but purrs. “I hope it made you feel appreciated.” An amused hum. “But now your husband would like some appreciation in return. What do you say?”

It doesn’t matter what you say, because his solid form presses into you from behind. While not the most physically imposing man, he holds a power and gravitas that is more than enough to pin you in place when combined with his superior height. You’re far too much Fyodor’s darling little wife to try and wriggle away. 

Fyodor’s excited breath tickles the back of your neck. Long fingers slip into your underwear, stroking your soaked core. A delicate touch, at odds with the insistent, mechanical pressure against your clit. He tugs the lace aside.

The blunt head of his cock slides against you, brushing against your slit, teasing the vibrator still trapped against that throbbing bundle of nerves. 

“Please…” A needy whine. Perfectly pathetic, and exactly what he wants. 

“Well, when you ask so sweetly…”

Fyodor’s cock slips inside you in a single slick, smooth thrust. He plunges in slow, letting himself indulge in how your walls part along his length, twitching and rippling from the constant stimulation you’ve had to endure. He laughs, an edge of a moan in the sound. 

“Absolutely divine,” he says, low, husky. “Dorogaya.”

Thus you find yourself, teetering in your heels, skirt flipped up at the back, bent over the kitchen counter with your devilish husband’s cock stretching your core. 

Fyodor sees no need to hold himself back or give you time to adjust. You’re more than ready for him, slick glistening on the insides of your thighs. You need this. You deserve this, for being so well behaved. 

His thrusts are deep, rhythmic. Slow at first, to force you to feel every inch as it glides in and out of you, to prolong that moment of desperation before you get what you really want. You can’t see his face, but you know exactly what his expression will be. His eyes eyes hooded, a self-satisfied smirk pulling at his mouth. Completely sure of his own power and delighted with his possession. 

Every push of his hips presses your clit against the vibrator, until it throbs and burns with the constant stimulation. You can feel it now, that hollowness in the pit of your stomach, the tightness in the small of your back. So close you can taste it. 

Fyodor’s hand wraps around your throat. Not a tight grip, just holding it, caressing your vulnerable neck with his fingertips. His lips brush your ear, cool against your feverish skin.

“Perhaps I should leave you little gifts more often, if this is how I am to be received when I come home.”

The only answer Fyodor receives is a wordless whine. His free hand settles on your waist, pushing you down, folding your torso down against the cool marble, as he claims what he wants. Taking you in the kitchen that you work so hard in. Why shouldn’t it be the scene of your reward, as well?

Faster now, cock barrelling back into you with each thrust as he abandons showmanship for the sheer, hedonistic pleasure of taking what’s his, of using you for his own gratification when yours is already guaranteed. The sound of his low, laboured breaths mix with your gasps and squeals, with the muffled thump of your hips against the countertop, with the steady buzz against your clit. 

His thumb touches the dial, pushing it to an extent that leaves you bucking. Your voice is hoarse, your body shuddering with overstimulation and desperation as Fyodor fucks you to his heart’s content. 

All day. All day with that goddamned thing teasing and torturing you, and now this? It’s too much for anyone to take, and Fyodor knows that all too well. He could have predicted down to the second you would let loose a ragged moan. He hisses with pleasure as your cunt contracts around him, your hips bucking, accidentally fucking yourself on him as you ride out the waves of release. 

The force of it steals the breath from you, leaving you weak and boneless, upper body draped across the counter, barely able to feel your legs. Fyodor’s final thrust plunges deep, sinking his cock as far it’ll go, his seed pouring into you. 

He lets out a soft, condescending laugh at the mess he’s made of you. Your hair falling from its style, your skin dewy with sweat, dress rumpled, his cum slowly dripping out of you. He pulls your chin up, turning your head so he can give you a kiss. 

“I’ll take dinner in my study, darling.”

He leaves you to compose yourself before you resume dinner preparations. You lay there a moment, listening to the sound of his footsteps die away. Slowly, you pick yourself up, still shaking as you tug your dress and underwear back into place. Taking the time and the reflection in the teapot to tidy your hair, dab away the sweat, refresh your lipstick.

You almost drop your lipstick as something jolts you. The fucking vibrator, right where he left it. A soft hum now, just enough to stimulate your clit, to make you aware of it. With unsteady steps, you go to fetch the plates, wondering what will await you in the study.

He’s not done with you yet.

[girlboybug]

daddy issues

“you ask me what i'm thinkin' about, i tell you that i'm thinking about whatever you're thinking about."

or the one where your boyfriend reminds you that you’re all he could ever want.

*unedited*

what’s playing 🎧: daddy issues by the neighbourhood

pairing : dilf!farleigh start x fem!reader (afab bodied)

word count : 3k

CONTENT WARNINGS : SMUT, age gap, dilf farleigh au mmm can you tell i’m ovulating, un protected sex, breeding kink, light impact play (he slaps reader a few times but nothing crazy), spitting, brief mentions of an exhibitionistic fantasy, size kink if you squint, cervix kissing yum, slight manhandling :3

TRIGGER WARNINGS : light slapping but nothing harsh and it’s all consensual, ermmm age gap with a power imbalance both professionally and morally but it’s all legal and reader is of age. if i’ve missed anything pls lmk.

a/n : hi guys! i know it's been a while since i've posted any work and i'm so sorry to anyone who has been wanting any updates. i missed you all, but life has been not the best. i won't share whats been going on, as tumblr is a safe space for me and id rather not bring my real life troubles onto here. i hope you guys enjoy this and forgive me for my absence <3

“you’re staring.” he says, not bothering to meet your eyes. you clear your throat, feeling flushed when you look away. “sorry.” you mumble, holding your legs close to your chest. farleigh sighs, shutting down his laptop and swiveling around in his chair before making his way towards you on the bed. your body lights up the second his proximity to you gets a little closer, and he sees it. 

it’s hard to not see it. 

he knows you try to hide it, to not seem like such an eager little girl, but your internal excitement when it comes to him is just so visibly external. it’s cute, it’s honest and it’s sweet, it’s one of the reasons why he likes you so much. 

you welcome him in with open arms, parting your legs for him to climb in between and nestle himself into. he picks you up from the mattress with ease, his large hands supporting you by the hips and the bottom of your ass to reposition you on top of him. 

he rests his hands on your thighs, watching as you rest yours on his broad chest, gently smoothing down the material of his white button up, the small embroidered dior catching your eye on the inside of his collar. 

“you’ve been quiet today.” he states, his warm hands bringing life to your skin beneath your silk slip. “because you told me to be,” you frown, slumping. he laughs, twiddling with the lace hem at the bottom of your short little slip. “yeah, but you never actually listen.” his thumb guides your chin upwards, pulling your gaze back up to his eyes. “so what’s making you actually listen today?” he asks softly, his hand engulfing your cheek. you lean into his palm, sighing to yourself. 

“i dunno,” you shrug, feeling small under his stare. “you dunno?” he repeats back, semi mockingly, but mostly full of endearment. you huff, glaring at him. he laughs again, and it makes something stir in your stomach. everything about him is so attractive, it can be upsetting at times. sometimes inconvenient.

there’s been more times you can count where you’ve sat on the sidelines while he conducts business meetings, strikes deals, makes compromises that are really more so situations that fully benefit him but worded to make it seem like they benefit the other person as well — and other business-y jargon you can hardly keep up with. but it doesn’t matter if you understand what’s going on or not, every time you sit and watch him in his element it lights a desire to stick your hand under your skirt and take care of the ache beginning to build. 

it’s just so hot seeing him be ahead of every single one of his colleagues, running circles around them with ease. his intelligence and capability is just so alluring. you think that it comes with his age too, the experience, the knowledge on life. you’ve always thought older men were the standard for attractiveness, and when you met farleigh, he somehow managed to raise the standard you had set in the stars and bring it to a level far beyond that. 

but with that, comes a sense of competitiveness with other women in his field. all closer to his age, more experienced than you are in almost every important aspect. it makes you a little insecure from time to time. you’re the first woman in her mid twenties he’s been with since he was in his mid twenties. he’s now approaching his early forties and it makes you nervous that maybe one day your company will bore him and he’ll crave someone else who can keep up with him. 

this morning at the bright and early hour of 7am, that fear was reignited in you. you watched from your desk, as your boss, your boyfriend, discuss things you don’t think you’d even really be able to understand, with a beautiful woman in his office. a woman closer to his age.

you watched as he laughed with her, as he let her run her hand down his forearm, watching as he let her hug him before she exited. to wrap a neat bow around the shit filled box, she made it a point to send a condescending smile to you on her way out, almost like she just knew. 

but, you know she’s just a coworker, she’s not even in the same department as he is, and is usually located in another location across the state but it felt horrible to see them interact. and it felt even worse knowing they would look good together, complementing one another with a high sense of class and elegance. 

farleigh anchors you back to him, squeezing your hip and gently patting your cheek. “what’s going on in that head of yours?” he murmurs, looking at you intently. “hmm?” 

“do you think i’m too young for you?” you suddenly ask, eyes already lined with tears. he’s a bit taken aback, not expecting the line of questioning. he takes a moment, swiping away your fallen tears. “no, i don’t. if i did, this—we wouldn’t be happening.” he says clearly, matter of factly, but there’s gentleness in his words, he wants to wipe away any doubt that might linger in your mind about you two. “why? do you think i’m too old for you?” he questions further, sitting up and pulling you along with him, making sure with every movement you remain close. you shake your head, sniffling.

“no,” you huff. “but i was watching you with…that woman in your office and i just…” you trail off, looking down at his button up again, smoothing down invisible wrinkles. 

“got a little jealous?” he can’t help the smile that grows on his face and raises his tone, it’s embarrassing and you return his inflating ego with a silencing glare. “yes.” you admit, somewhat annoyed, but you know it stems from your insecurity and fear that he’ll confirm it. 

“baby,” he sighs playfully, shaking his head. “i’m far from interested in her. i’ve got my eye on a new girl,” he grins, his tongue poking his cheek. “yeah?” you ask, folding your arms across your chest, suppressing your smile. “who is she?” 

he looks off to the side wistfully, exhaling with desire. “ohh i don’t think you’d know her,” he waves you off, sighing when he leans back into the headboard. “she’s my secretary. she wears these tight little pencil skirts, and she has a habit of bending over often. i think she does it on purpose.” he adds, his hands running up and down your thighs. your efforts in keeping a straight face fall flat, your smile betraying them and perking the corners of your lips. 

“oh really?” you giggle, leaning forward. “why don’t you make a move on her?” you tilt your head, wondering what his answer will be. “i’m thinking about it. i’m thinking about telling her how i watch her from my office when she thinks i can’t see her, how i think about bending her over her own desk and fucking her in front of all the little boys in their cubicles who think they have a chance with her.” 

warmth floods your cheeks like a tide pool, dragging you into the depths of nervousness. his smart tongue and dirty mouth still manage to catch you off guard, never failing in making you flustered and shy. he loves it, he loves how easy it is to play with you.

you can feel him getting hard under you, and it excites you, it makes that familiar ache trickle all over. “i don’t think she’d be against that.” you reply, trying to hide the shakiness in your words, but he hears it. he can always see through you and your little acts. 

“oh you think so?” he hums, squeezing your hips. you nod, leaning in closer, nudging your nose with his. “i think so.” you whisper, your lips brushing against his.

“you feel that?” he murmurs, lightly grinding his bulge against your panty clad cunt. you whimper softly, nodding. “it’s only ever for you,” he breathes out, pressing his lips to your lovingly with a chaste kiss. he peppers kisses to your lips over and over until he sinks into you, pulling you in with a hand behind your head. 

he moans into your mouth, gripping your hips and planting you firmly on his cock, rocking into you with haste. the pressure and friction ripples through your cunt, nudging your clit just the way you need. you cup his cheeks while you kiss farleigh, melting into him and sighing with content when he migrates from your lips, sucking hot bruises into the side of your neck. 

“i need you,” you whimper, meaning the sentiment in more ways than one. farleigh is the only man who’s ever made you feel the way that you do, emotionally and physically. you’ll always need him, whether it be a strong shoulder to cry on, or a strong shoulder to bite into when he’s got you nearly folded in half, fucking you stupid. 

“how bad?” he breathes out, bringing his hand between your grinding hips, pressing his long fingers firmly against your cunt. he can feel the dampness seep through the material, laughing smugly when you gasp. “real bad huh?” he adds, humming in agreement when you nod dumbly. “i know baby,” he coos, kissing the space beneath your ear. 

you shrug off the spaghetti straps of your slip, a breath of a shock being pulled from your lips when he acts faster than you, eagerly tugging down the white silk material to expose your bare chest. he groans to himself, lurching forward and taking your soft flesh in his mouth. 

you arch your back closer to him, eyes fluttering shut and mouth agape with soft moans trickling out into the dimly lit room. he plays with you, rutting his hips into yours, hands and tongue lapping up and groping your breasts, hungrily squeezing, licking and nipping at your flesh. 

your hands play with the curls at the back of his neck, tugging with a gasp when you feel his teeth graze your nipples. “farleigh,” you whine, throwing your head back, trying to grind harder on his cock. “need you,” he kisses your sternum, looking up at you with his hands far beneath your slip, wrapped around your sides, fingers gently skimming across your ribs. “i’m right here baby,” his voice cascading around you like caramel, enveloping you in its golden hue, rich and sweet. 

he pushes your dampened panties to the side, groaning to himself at the sight of your cunt glistening. he thumbs at your lips, sighing lowly and spreading you apart. 

his thumb rubs over your clit, chuckling when your lips part and a shaky moan escapes out. he rescinds his warm touch faster than you would’ve appreciated, softly cooing away your sounds of disappointment. he lifts you off of his lap, laying you gently down on your back. his large hand cradles the back of your head, lowering you down onto the pillow below you. 

he unties his tie, discarding it somewhere to be found by the maids in the morning, a shaky sigh fluttering from your lips at the view of him above you. the soft glow of the lamp on your shared nightstand wafts all around him, tracing the outline of his full curls, highlighting his cheekbones and drawing a line down the bridge of his nose. his lips tempt you without having to move at all, no movements in forming words, he just stares at you and with that alone, you’re a perfect malleable thing ready for whatever he has planned. 

“you’re beautiful,” he states in a breath of admiration, leaning back down towards you. “my girl,” he sighs, kissing your neck, breathing in the dainty vanilla, floral scent from the dolce & gabbana perfume you begged him for. but beneath the expensive perfume is your scent. your sweet natural scent he can never seem to get enough of, always crouching down to hug you from the back and bury his nose in the crook of your neck, sniffing right at the sweet spot. and now, it just turns him on further, fishing out his cock from his dress slacks, too bothered to take the extra steps in sliding them off his hips, too eager, too desperate to feel you, to be close to you, to be in you. 

he pushes in, tugging a deep gasp from the depths of your chest. he groans the second your cunt envelopes him in, gripping him in and squeezing. your walls pulse around the girth of him, trying to adjust to the intrusion. he grinds his hips, shuddering above you. “fuck baby,” he chuckles in disbelief, kissing your collarbone. 

“god,” you choke out, swallowing thickly, dragging your fingertips down his back. he starts pivoting his hips deeper in you, slowly pumping in and out, wanting to take his time with you, relishing in being able to savor your cunt. it’s been a few weeks since you both have had sex, he’s just been so busy with work, he hasn’t had the time to fuck you like you deserve, but now he has all the time in the world, and he intends to use it until the very last second. 

you feel so full of him and you find yourself somehow wanting more, wishing you could be with him deeper, but in the same breath as that thought, he knocks whatever you have left in your lungs right out, pushing into you deeper as if he could sense what you wanted. your calves rest on his lower back, keeping him flush inside you.

gentleness starts to shed, and an eager pace takes its place, his hips moving faster and his cock hitting harder. your clit brushes against his trimmed bristle of pubic hair, whimpering at the friction, tears already brimming your pretty eyes as he fucks you. 

and then you say something you’ve never said before, never even really thought of or fantasized about, but as you stare at him, watching him fuck you like he owns you, you can’t help it from coming out. “hit me,” you whimper pathetically, hardened nipples pressed to his chest with desperation. he stills inside you for a moment, panting with a look of confusion, unsure if you really just said what you said. 

“what baby?” he asks breathlessly, swallowing thickly. “hit me, touch me, please farleigh,” you plead, fisting at his button up, grinding your hips down to try and regain some friction. he’s ashamed with the way his cock twitches inside of you at your desperation. so unadulterated and unfiltered in the act of something so filthy. 

his hips start moving again, and he’s grabbing at your face, squeezing your cheeks until your lips pucker. “open.” he commands, and like a dutiful believer, you obey, parting your mouth for him. he spits and you swallow without being told to, moaning with a gasp when his hand lands on your cheek afterwards with zero infliction of pain, but enough heaviness to remind you his strength is there. it’s simply withheld to avoid hurting you and bruising your pretty face. 

your cunt squeezes around him, arching your back into his chest as his hips pivot harder into yours. he takes notice, landing another firm but lovingly smack across your cheek. before your moan gains sound, his large palm covers your mouth, his lips finding your ear. “be quiet and listen,” he murmurs, leaving the air silent. all you can hear is him fucking you, how wet and loud you are. “you’re so fucking wet,” he chuckles in your ear, and the moan that follows behind his palm just proves his point further. 

“do you hear that?” he shoves his hips in, pinning yours down with his available hand, giving more access for him to push in deeper. the fat tip of his cock nudges at your cervix, filling you out more than anyone ever has. “making a mess all over my slacks baby.” he grunts, but there’s no complaints to be found. 

when he finally removes his hand from your lips, he’s greeted with your heavenly moans, rendering him weak with his face in your neck, mouth baring hot kisses, groaning your name. 

his hand that nearly dwarfs your face comes back down, slapping the side of your cheek, his warm palm cradling it after the impact, his thumb running along your pouring waterline. “my little crybaby,” he grunts with humor, his hand sliding from your cheek to the nape of your neck, his other hand following suit. he presses down, forcing you to crane your neck downward, focusing your gaze on the sight of his cock disappearing in and out of your puffy cunt. “watch.” he utters in your ear, his teeth catching your earlobe before he pulls away. 

and you do. 

you watch him take you over and over, his hips slamming into yours, occasionally stilling in you to let the weight of his cock buried deep inside you hang heavy.

your legs tremble around him, unable to soothe them from the adrenaline that comes with getting fucked. “touch yourself.” he exhales, bringing his lips to your forehead. “wanna feel you cum,” and that alone could have made you finish. you bring your fingers to your aching clit, moaning a drawn out whimper at the stimulation. he watches himself fuck you, how he stretches you out and how your cunt accommodates him every time. 

“fuck,” you sob, panting heavily, sweat starting to collect around your neck and trickle between your breasts. “can i cum?” you plead through a choked moan, clit throbbing in excitement when he nods, picking up the pace in his thrusts. he releases your neck, traveling up to your jaw and bringing you closer to his mouth. his lips are pressed to your’s in milliseconds, drinking in every little sound you let out as he fucks you through your orgasm.

a bruising grip rests on your jaw and hip, like a wordless statement of how much of you belongs to him. which is everything. you can’t think of a single thing about you that you could say isn’t apart of farleigh; hell, you can’t think at all right now, not when your poor cunt is getting pounded into and your shaky fingers can’t seem to stop rubbing circles over your clit. the feelings that deluge through your body are addictive, it feels so good that it trickles into a delicious type of hurt. 

you’ve already cum, its existence proven by the white ring around the base of his cock, the sight has your hole weakly tightening around him. with no forewarning, he pulls out, leaving you hollow and empty, wincing from the loss.

before you can voice your confusion and protests, he’s flipping you around, guiding your hips back up, large hand pressing your cheek into the pillows below you. he’s back in you as soon as he exited you, groaning lowly to himself. “fuckin’ perfect.” he grunts mostly to himself, his cock twitching at the sweet little gasp you let out from the new angle. he travels into you deeper this way, nudging your cervix with every other thrust. 

he curls behind your back, his chest pressed flush against your shoulder blades, his lips nipping and sucking bruises into the crook of your neck, breathing in your earthy dulcet scent. he brings your wrists to the small of your back, keeping them in place while his thrusts start to become more and more sporadic. “gonna cum, tell me how bad you want it,” he grits, feeling his climax fast approaching, eager to finish to the sweet sound of you begging for his cum. 

begging for him to cum inside of you is as easy as breathing, if not easier, since he always manages to take your breath away, whether that be by his charming smile or with his hand wrapped firmly around your throat. “please cum in me,” you sob, tears staining the white silk pillowcases. “wanna be full of you, please farleigh, i need it, need it so bad,” you babble mindlessly, trying to fuck your over sensitive cunt onto him, your ass meeting him with every pivot he sends into you. 

normally, he’d push you a little more, too indulgent in his desires to let you have it that easily. but the way you fuck yourself onto him and cry for him is enough to make any man give in. his pants come out sharp, his thrusts matching the tempo of his thumping pulse, spilling into you with a loud groan of your name, his hips fused firmly to your ass. he pumps into a few more times, swallowing hard at the sight of his and your sticky cum and the mess it's made. “gonna pull out now baby,” he murmurs softly in your shoulder blade, kissing the skin lovingly. you wince, squeezing your eyes shut, collapsing back into the bed with your legs tucked close to you.

he crawls over on top of you, running his hands across your clammy forehead and temple. he peppers gentle kisses over your warm skin, humming quietly. “you okay?” he asks, laying beside you, pulling you into him after tucking himself back into his slacks. “mhm,” you nod lazily, shuffling around to face him. he chuckles, kissing your nose. 

his arm wraps around you, securing you into his chest, rubbing your back in relaxing circles. his hand sneaks between your legs, scooping his cum with his fingers, shushing you playfully when you whimper, your hips shying away from his touch. “behave,” he chastises lightly, bringing his fingers to your lips. “open.” you open your bitten lips, tongue darting out along his digits, licking him clean. you hum something of approval, kissing the pads of his fingers before he pulls them away. “good?” he mumbles against your cheek. “good.” you confirm, kissing his hair.

he snakes his arms around your waist, unsatisfied with how far you feel from him wanting to be as close as humanly possible. you’ve always loved how touchy he remained after sex, used to the two pump and dump cycle you’ve had with past guys.

unlike them, farleigh isn’t just some guy, he’s a man – granted a man old enough to be your father, but that never bothered you, if anything it added to the appeal. but regardless of all of that, he loves you, loves being near you even in non-sexual contexts. he proves it every day, like he is now, whispering about how pretty you look right now. “i love you,” he says softly, and it sounds like the first time he said it, gentle and nervous. it makes you smile, opening your heavy eyes to peer into his. “i love you.” you repeat back with just as much truth and confirmation. “i love you,” you kiss him, sealing your promise with your lips pressed together.

[toska-writes]

Hello Toska!

I really enjoy reading your stories, they are really good! I see so many fanfics that swear, or have nasty stuff, but yours are good. I was wondering if you do requests? If so, could you do one with the Bad Batch (mostly Hunter and Crosshair) where the reader is a female Jedi? And the reader goes on a mission and risks their life to protect one of the Bad Batch but they get injured? Take as much time as you need, thank you for your time! :)

Yeah this may be from a few months ago…. But here we are

“Concussion Protocol”

Summary: concussions are risky business, and a certain “unconcerned” sniper makes sure everything this ok

Pairing: Crosshair x Reader (Platonic)

Warning: small mention of blood, throwing up I guess, nothing crazy

Word count: 1313 (I meant for this one to be a short blurb but whatever

Notes: I changed up the request a bit but it was just a small thing I wanted to write

The ringing was so loud. Though maybe it was so loud because everything else is so quiet. Or maybe you couldn’t hear anything else at all.

The only thing you did know is that if you kept thinking about this it would make your head hurt more than it already was.

And that was saying something. Your head felt like it weighed an extra 50 pounds as you were hunched over trying desperately to catch any breath and keep your head from hitting the floor.

Ringing, that’s all it was. For a moment you could hear your own thought and could have sworn something touched your shoulder.

You couldn’t tell, it didn’t matter at this point because in all honesty you couldn’t even tell where you are.

No no the something definitely touched your shoulder because it was a lot firmer this time. Your whole body shook with whatever was on your shoulder and if it wasn’t for something else grasping your other arm you definitely would have fallen over.

You looked over slightly, more even breaths rolled through you now, and finally something came into focus. A hand…. Oh that’s what was holding you up right now.

The shaky image of helmet comes into your view with a hand now place under your chin slightly lifting it up.

The way the helmet was moving you assumed the person hold be talking to you, it was either that or the world was spinning around you.

They looked familiar, whoever they were, but if you tried to think anymore you were pretty sure your head would pop right off. What did even happen? It was blurry looking back now.

Crosshair watched them for a moment, their eyes lost in thought finally trained back onto him but only for a moment before they drooped again.

He felt the growing weight of your face in his palm before you slumped over even more

“Okayyyy” He muttered more to himself since the calls of your name moments ago fell on deaf ears. The first thing Crosshair had to do was get you off of the battle field.

He was just lucky he saw you in time, the amount of now broken battle droids scattered around your unaware mind scared him. Scared him more than he would like to admit.

“I found them, I just need someone to cover me.” Crosshair spoke cooly into the comm, the panic rising in him however contradicted him.

A confirm from someone on the other side didn’t really matter to Crosshair at this moment, it mattered getting you to open your eyes again.

Finally the ringing died down, enough to recognize there was a voice coming from somewhere extremely close to you. It took a moment more to realize it was your name someone spoke.

The fight to open your eyes was hard. The dying light still hurt your eyes as they tried to adjust again.

“Hmmm?” Was all you could get out before you felt a thumb trace over part of your forehead.

It worried Crosshair of where this blood was coming from, he tried to keep in away from your mouth and eyes with his thumb for a moment.

The sound of blaster fire sounded closer to his head than he would have liked.

“Come on Crosshair go!” He heard hunter practically yell in his ear. Right he could worry about wiping your face later.

You felt yourself move off the ground slightly. Looking around you were about to protest to the person that you still couldn’t identify in your state, but the swirling world did not pair well with your head. This resulted in you quickly shoving your head towards the armored chest that held you.

A groan must have escaped your lips but a husked voice reassured you quickly. Wait no you definitely knew that voice, but for the love of maker a face nor name could make it to your brain.

A feeling did however, and it was warm in your chest- you had nothing to worry about if he was here.

“Where are we going?” You finally managed to slur some words together without moving your head too much.

“Towards the Marauder.” He spoke clearly to you, no more ringing seemed to disrupt your hearing. “Can you tell me what that is?”

The question struck you as odd for a moment. Of course you knew what the Marauder was….right? That didn’t stop you from thinking for a moment before you responded with “… a ship?”

“I’m actually impressed” was all that came from whoever held you as he started to slow down more. You couldn’t tell with your eyes closed when your surroundings changed but a quick tap to your check and you opened your eyes to the inside of a ship.

“Is this…” you started, a limp hand gestured around before returning with a thump to your lap. “ the Marauder.

The figure now crouched in front of you with on hand keeping you sitting straight up nodded once before reaching with his other hand a removing his helmet.

“Can you remember anything else?” He spoke softly and slowly to you, but you didn’t answer.

The man had a tattoo over his eye, one that caught your attention immediately.

You knew who that was. A smile broke across your lips and a small laugh forced its way through your mouth. A shaky hand of yours reached out to the side of his face with the tattoo. He let it happen and watched your face hoping for any recognition.

“Crosshair.” Finally something you remembered

The man, now you were sure was Crosshair, nodded ever so slightly again but the smirk was prominent in his features.

“I’m going to clean your head ok?” He rasped.

The smile couldn’t be swiped from your face either as you continued to smile at him. “Crosshair.” You spoke again. Just like the first time it wasn’t a question, you were sure.

He hummed as a response before pushing you back slightly and dampening a rag as he still was crouched on the floor.

“I’m tired.” It was the first and only thing you were thinking about or could think about. The pounding in your head and the swirling of the world was becoming too much.

“You just have to wait a few seconds for me ok?” The cool ragged touch your face and surprisingly didn’t burn. “I just have to make sure nothing too serious is going on up there.” He poked the middle of your forehead with his finger.

Crosshair deemed his work satisfactory enough when he could finally locate one of the many cut along your forehead. Grimacing at it he decided that it would definitely need stitches.

But you didn’t have to know that right now. “All done.” His nimble hands returned to your shoulders pulling you up. Your eyes once again opened, though you couldn’t fall asleep since Crosshair did anything in his power for you to keep talking to him.

“Is it nap time?” He almost couldn’t make out your words for a moment before he took your face in and sigh.

“Don’t tell Tech, but yeah I think you deserve a nap time.” Crosshair still planned to scan for more injury’s but could letting you sleep change a lot?

Before he knew it your body leaned forward and quickly crashed into his own, your head found its stop between his shoulder plate and his neck perfectly.

The words were soft now muffled into his skin but he could nearly make out “Thanks Crosshair.” The voice faded out towards the end but that what brought the smile back to his face.

Thought he was sure they would never hear it again small “ Of course ad’ika” was muttered into the air before he scooped the padawan up into his arms once again to move them someplace more comfortable.

————————————————————

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[hyukalyptus]

okay love? — yeonjun x fem!reader | bestie!yj gives reader her first orgasm. NSFW/MDNI!

cw. bestfriend!yeonjun, virgin!afab!reader, reader's first orgasm ever, pet names (pretty, love), cunnilingus (f. receiving), nipple play, unprotected sex (pls wear condoms), creampie, infidelity technically, chubby!reader implied. notes. i'm reposting some of my most popular/favorite works from my old blog! this was my most popular one, so enjoy again pls! smut under cut. wc. ~800

when u told him u were nervous bc it was starting to get serious with ur new parter and you think you might take that step with them soon, he almost couldn't believe you've never had an orgasm before? not even by yourself?

he just wanted to help out his friend. that's it. he swears. you tried to explain urself, but i don't know. i've just always been too nervous.

you think you're hearing things when he offers his help—just want you to be prepared is all. you agree, laying down on ur bed and letting him undress you so slowly, pressing his lips to the inside of ur hot thighs because i'm gonna start off really slow, ok? as he teases you with gentle sucks on the outside of ur pussy. you don't know how long he teases you, but he reassures you you can take as long or as little as it takes to cum, okay love?

you don't know why, but ur hips roll and buck, trying to get them up to his mouth. look at you, you wanna cum so bad already and i've barely touched you. tears already forming in your eyes, you can't help but beg yeonjun to please, i don't know what you're planning on doing, but just do it now.

but he already told you. i'm gonna start off really slow, remember? spreading your lips to look at how you're absolutely soaking wet, pretty. placing a few experimental kitten licks around—just barely missing—your clit, your heart beat is in your throat. when he finally licks it though, you moan like you've never moaned before. well really, you never have moaned like that before. you've never had a reason to.

digging into you, he reminds you to talk to me. you gotta talk to me, pretty. you can't form coherent sentences though. you've never felt anything as euphoric or blissful as this and you haven't even cum yet, at lease you don't think you have.

how do i know when i'm gonna cum? he chuckles against your center, squeezing the voluptuous flesh of ur ass before you'll know. i promise. i'm gonna go a little faster now, ok?

but u need an answer, this is all new to you. truthfully something feels like it's missing. feel a bit empty, yeonjun. you don't know what this means, why you feel this way, but it sounds like you want my cock, love. and you assume that's the right answer, because you practically froth at the mouth thinking about his cock inside you. want my cock inside this pretty pussy?

nodding rapidly, you can't help but tug at his joggers, wanting them off as quickly as possible. pushing into as soon as he can, he falls forward, digging into your neck because you're so fucking tight, pretty. such a pretty cunt for me. no one will be able to fill u up like me, huh? it only burns a little at first, but subsides as he keeps fucking you deep, fucking you like prettiest girl you are.

this is all so new to you, but you think you might cum soon, i dunno. gasping, your back arches involuntarily and he rolls his eyes because he just can't believe no one's touched u before and you've never felt any of this before. but he mostly can't believe he hasn't licked your perfectly hardened, plump nipples.

sticking his tongue out before he even reaches you, he licks over one, and you gasp just barely, but not in the way he was hoping. trying the other, you cry out, your legs shaking around his hips because oh, you like that one better, pretty? and he focuses all his energy on fucking you deep, rubbing your clit with his thumb, and licking your favorite nipple.

you can hardly take it any more and he can tell. he can tell ur close. i can feel it. cum for me. cum so fucking good for me, love. just want u to feel so good.

you're nervous again, nervous because you haven't cum yet. should i wait? but he doesn't care—don't worry about me, love. just let go for me, just feel so good for me, that's all i need.

like a command, you let go, legs shaking and trembling, clit pulsating, seeing stars, ears ringing, skin hot and sensitive. you're in a true euphoria and u don't think there's a way you'll ever feel this good again. and frankly, ur pissed you've never felt this way before.

your orgasm triggers his own as he fills you up with his hot cum, feeling it paint ur walls so prettily and warm. you can't get enough.

as you lay next to each other, catching ur breath, you aren't thinking of ur date later that day, all you can think is we're gonna do that again.

[irisintheafterglow]

can I say that? (pro!bakugo x you)

summary: you tell katsuki he's pretty. he doesn't know how to respond.

wc: 0.7k

cw/tags: established relationship, swearing, the tiniest bit of angst but mostly tooth-rotting fluff, very obvious laufey and sound of music influence

note: fun fact, "the sound of music" is probably one of my all-time favorite comfort movies. i like the singing and the love story :))) so that's why this scene is in here, it's just the most romantic scene in the movie for me and i really love the implication that finding your soulmate is a reward for doing something right in your past. anyways i talked too much, happy valentines day and enjoy!

likes, reblogs, and replies are appreciated <3 happy valentine's day!

You know, I was thinking and I was wondering two things: Why did you run away to the abbey? And...what was it that made you come back? 

“Hah?” 

“Don’t ‘hah’ me. You heard what I said.” He grunts dismissively and continues to watch whatever old movie you decide to put on the living room TV. You knew he didn’t want to admit it, but the sappy actions of the main leads had his heart racing. You stick your pointer finger into his side only to find a solid wall of rock-hard muscle. “Hey. Say something other than ‘hah.’” 

“Fine. Why the hell’re you poking me?” His eyes flick down to meet yours for a moment, a warning against you jabbing his secretly ticklish spots. Well, I had an obligation to fulfill…and I came back to fulfill it.

“Because I don’t like your answer,” you reply, adjusting your position on the couch. You were practically lying on top of him, one leg swung over his waist while you rested comfortably in the space between his side and the back cushions. One of his arms draped over the edge of the armrest, the other securing you as close to his body as humanly possible. It was a feeling of warmth that made your brain fuzzy, the skin to skin contact heavenly intimate. Your words had slipped out unconsciously and you didn’t know you’d verbalized your thoughts until his blunt response. “I feel like you didn’t actually hear me.” He glances down at you again like you’d sprouted four legs. And I missed the children.

Only the children? 

No–yes!

“Of course I heard you. What kinda boyfriend would I be if I didn’t?” Isn't it right that I missed them? 

“Okay, then respond.” His deflections were becoming weaker, so you kept pushing while simultaneously fighting the urge to turn and bite his bicep.

“Thanks, I guess?” You roll your eyes and your silence finally gets through to him. “Was that not the right answer?” I was only hoping that perhaps you…

“It was an attempt,” you say slowly. Perhaps you might…

“A decent attempt,” he mutters. Yes? 

“Agree to disagree.” You feel his temper flare and brace yourself to get flipped onto your back and pressed into the couch. The action, however, doesn’t come. Instead, an uncharacteristic frown passes over his expression, one that usually didn’t appear if it were only you two. “Kats, did I say something wrong?” He shrugs one broad shoulder. Yeah, something was definitely bothering him. Well, nothing was the same when you were away…and it'll be all wrong again after you leave.

“No, but I think I did,” he mumbles. And I just thought perhaps you might change your mind. 

“Baby, it’s not that serious if you don’t want it to be. A ‘thanks’ is okay. I’m sorry I was teasing.” He shakes his head. Well, I'm sure the baroness will be able to make things fine for you. 

“It’s not that.” You reach out to grab the remote and mute the movie for the time being, before turning to give him your full attention. “I’m just not used to getting called that kinda shit.” 

“Being called…pretty?” 

“Yeah. It’s new,” he explains quietly. “You’re the only one who’s ever told me that.” 

“That doesn’t make it any less true,” you respond gently, brushing your thumb over his cheek. He practically melts under your touch. “Would I lie to you, Bakugo Katuski?”

“I fuckin’ hope not,” he says with ironic seriousness and you smile, his own chuckle lightly rumbling through his chest and against your body. “But, I think I like it.”

“Being called pretty?”

“Mhmm. It’s kinda nice.” 

“As long as I’m not feeding your already inflated ego,” you point out and he barks out a laugh, a real one. “Can I call you ‘pretty’ more often, then?” 

“I guess so,” he replies nonchalantly and it’s your turn to frown. The shit-eating grin that pulls at the corner of his mouth is not lost to you. He was an idiot sometimes, but he was your idiot. 

“Bakugo Katsuki.”

“Fine, fine. Yes, call me ‘pretty’ more often.” He pauses and you look at him expectantly, waiting for the pieces to click. “Please.”

Nodding in satisfaction, you reach out to unmute the movie and settle back onto his chest, letting your eyes flutter shut. He sighs contently, rubbing his hand up and down your back and sliding you both further into the numerous pillows. So somewhere in my youth or childhood…I must have done something good. His voice drifts into your ears as you start to doze off, soft and precious like telling a secret. 

“I think you’re pretty too.” 

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[thefloorisbalaclava]

Aight I neeeeed more size kink stuff with ghost, I don’t have a specific idea in mind I’m just pathetic

pairing: simon 'ghost' riley x f!reader words: 751 warnings: SMUT [thigh riding, size difference/kink, simon gives off some dom vibes here]

a/n: ain't gonna lie to y'all, i listened to some audio this morning and dude was talking about thigh riding, so that's the only thing on my mind rn. enjoy

[masterlist]

Simon cages you in with his arms, and you blink up at him, breathing heavily. A sly little smirk appears on your face, but he pretends not to see it.

Or, instead, he ignores it to focus on something else.

There has always been something inside of him that reacts when he notices just how small you are to him, mostly in height. He towers over you easily, even more so when you kneel for him.

He thinks he might break you one day, but you’ve proven yourself tougher than some may think. You can handle him. And even when you can’t, you never want him to stop.

“What’s so funny, little girl?” he finally asks, and bite your lip. Without a word, you reach up and put your hands on his forearms. You don’t even try to wrap your hands around them because he knows you can’t, but just seeing how small your hands are compared to his forearms has him taking a deep breath beneath his balaclava.

“Nothing,” you tell him innocently.

“Hm,” he grunts, moving one hand and bringing it to your cheek. He could cover your entire face with one hand and your neck, well, his hand fit as well as any necklace.

He drags his thumb along your lips before pushing it into your mouth. You take it eagerly, biting down gently.

“You like when I make you feel small, love?” he asks, slowly pumping his thumb in and out of your mouth. “Nah…” He pulls his thumb out in favor of slipping two of his fingers in your mouth.

You make a small sound, and he chuckles.

“Too much?” he asks. He slowly slides his thigh between your legs.

“Mm mm,” you mumbled around his fingers, shaking your head.

“Nothing’s too much for my girl, is it?” He presses his thigh up against your crotch. He takes his fingers from your mouth and then uses his hands to pin your hands against the wall as he rubs his thigh against you even harder.

“Look at that. Look how I can use just one of my hands to pin your wrists.” He moves one hand away to show you. “God…the size of you…,” he groans.

“Simon,” you whimper.

“Go on…” He has you on your tiptoes from pressing his thigh between your legs. “Use me. No hands, though.” He glances up at your wrists stuck under his hand.

You grind your pussy against his thick thigh and close your eyes. Simon uses his free hand to grab your face, and you open your eyes.

“Eyes stay on me, love.” He presses his forehead to yours, eyes boring into yours.

“K-Kiss me,” you whine. He moves in, but only the material of his balaclava touches your lips. You can almost make out the shape of his lips through the fabric, so you kiss back reluctantly.

“I’ll give you a proper one once you finish,” he says before looking down at you struggling to move along his thigh. He lets go of your wrists, and your arms fall limply to your sides.

Suddenly, he grabs your hips and, with an almost painful grip, begins to slide you back and forth on his thigh.

“I can move you however I want, can’t I?”

You nod, pouting slightly as the pleasure overwhelms you.

“Aw, is someone not getting her way?” he teases, sliding you back and forth faster. Your toes are barely touching the floor now. Your body starts to tense as you feel the orgasm washing over you. You grab his arms to keep yourself steady, which only eggs him on. Your small fingers dig into the skin of his arms as you cry out for him, your thighs trembling against his.

You rest your head against his chest weakly. The only thing keeping you upright is his thigh and his hands at your hips.

“Good girl,” he says sweetly. He finally pulls the balaclava up and off and kisses you.

“That…was so…unfair,” you say between kisses and catching your breath.

“How do you think it feels when you tease me, hm?” He smiles against your lips when you roll your eyes. As a warning, he presses his thigh between your legs.

You hiss. “Sorry, sorry, sorry! Fuck!”

“Down you get.” He pats your ass as he stands up straight and lets your feet touch the floor again. “Can you stand?” he teases.

“Fuck you, Simon.”

“I was hoping that would happen next,” he says, and you both chuckle.

[clockwayswrites]

Like Beta Fish Do Part 21

wc 3874 Masterpost

“I’ve got nothing else to add,” Jason said as he turned from closing the door behind Danny. He refused to let his boyfriend miss any more classes because of him. He understood yesterday, but he was up and moving now and it wasn’t like Dick was going to leave any time soon.

Dick who obviously still had questions.

Questions Jason didn’t want to answer.

He wasn’t ready to tell his brother he was still dead.

“Jay…,” Dick sighed, setting the plate he��d just finished washing carefully on the towel where the others were drying. It was careful in a way that told Jason Dick had half wanted to throw the plate across the room. “You’ve got to understand… I didn’t look into Danny. No one has looked into Danny. I ignored my instincts and my training and just let you have this because you trusted me. And then I come into that…”

“I do trust you, Dickie,” Jason forced himself to say. It was easier to admit than it used to be. “Don’t you trust me?”

“Jaybird, you know I do,” Dick said as he crossed the room. He rested his hands on Jason’s cheeks, brushing his thumbs under those green tinted eyes. “But you scared me.”

“I get that. I’m not…” Jason huffed out a breath of air and let his head thud back against the door. Why did finding the right words still have to be so hard? “It’s not wrong that you were scared. I’m not trying to… this isn’t me invalidating that. But I’ve… haven’t I been happier, big bird?”

“You have,” Dick whispered his assurance.

“Then trust me,” Jason pleaded. “And trust that I trust Danny. I’m happier because of him. Not just… not just because I care about him. I promise, Dick, this isn’t my heart clouding my head. I was taking the ectoshots before my heart got involved, and they are helping. I feel… it’s so much easier now, Dick, so much easier just to feel.”

Dick slumped forward, his head rested against Jason’s chest. Jason let him, wrapping one heavy arm around Dick’s shoulder’s. He didn’t miss how his brother’s ear was pressed right over his heart.

“Will it go away? The Pit rage?” The question caught in a hitched breath, like Dick was afraid to ask it.

“Completely? I don’t know— we don’t know.” Jason said honestly. He had to swallow his own unsteady breath back. “I don’t think so. I think it’s too far burrowed into my bones to ever go away. I think it’s stained my soul. But I think… I think that a lot of the active parts of it are being washed away. I may always be stained by it, but I don’t have to live by it.”

Dick sighed. His shoulders slumped as he let himself lean almost boneless against Jason. “And he makes you want to live.”

“He does.”

“Alright, Jay, I’ll trust him. Because I want you to keep wanting.”

Jason dropped a kiss to the top of Dick's head, murmuring into his hair, “Thanks, big bird.”

-

“You’ve been quiet, Danny,” Sam suspiciously pointed out.

It was their monthly ‘is everyone still (mostly) alive’ video chat, as Tucker named it. Which normally Danny enjoyed; it was great to be able to check up with the others. It’s just that right then was really, really bad timing.

Because he did have things to tell and they were going to flip.

“He has been,” Val agreed, leaning forward. “What are you hiding?”

Danny rubbed at the back of his neck. “Well, um, I’m just getting ready to go to the Realms?”

“On ‘is everyone still, mostly, alive’ chat day? Dude!” Tucker said, clutching a dramatic hand to his chest. “How could you?”

“Oh come on— Sam and Val made plans first! We always had a hard cut off,” Danny defended himself.

“Oh excuse us for wanting to support our friends and go see the play they’re in,” Val said.

“I’m not— I’m not the one with the issue!”

“No— don’t let him get off topic,” Sam said, throwing her arm in front of Valerie. “He’s trying to distract us.”

Rude. It was true, but rude.

“Right, so um, Jason?” Danny started. He had gotten permission from Jason to tell them, but it was still a struggle to start.

“Your ‘friend’,” Sam said, with air quotes.

“Who could kill you with his thighs,” Val added.

“And who you won’t let me stalk,” Tucker sulked.

“Yes, him.” Danny rolled his eyes. He tried to not let the nerves get him and continued right into it. “So he’s, well, um, sorta a halfa?”

Danny practically lunged to turn down the volume on the call as everyone shouted at once.

“Everyone shut up!” Sam eventually yelled. “Danny, what the fuck do you mean he’s sorta a halfa?”

“I, um, well, I mean that he died and came back, but his ecto was a little messed up so he didn’t really form fully? Like, he felt like a ghost but he doesn’t— didn’t have a real core. We’re pretty sure it’s forming fully now, which is why we’re going to the Far Frozen to get him checked out.”

“Dude,” Tucker said.

Danny managed a crooked smile. “I know, right?”

“How?” Val stressed.

“I’ve been giving him ectoshots. Sorta like a transfusion? It’s jump starting things,” Danny said. “He had his third one just the other day.”

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell us,” Sam said, crossing her arms. “And he doesn’t want to kill you?”

“Look, it was his secret! I couldn’t just tell people—” Danny cut himself off at a knock on his door.

“Is that him?” Tucker asked, leaning forward. “Dude, bring him in!”

“Well will you look at the time! I guess Sam and Val have to get going!”

Sam scowled. “Danny, don’t you dare—”

“And he’s totally not trying to kill me!” Danny said loudly over her. “Since we’re, you know, dating. Bye guys! Have fun at the play!”

He hung up over their renewed shouting with a grin. That would come back to bite him, but he couldn’t regret it— not when it got him out of that conversation for now.

Danny’s smile fell into something uneasy as he opened the door. “Hey, come in.”

They had talked since that night, of course, but they hadn’t seen each other. Danny raked his eyes over Jason, as if just by looking he could tell how the other was doing.

“Hey fish, I’m alright. I’m healing well thanks to you,” Jason assured him.

Danny almost bristled. It was what he wanted to know, of course, but he didn’t want to be coddled. “Good, because we’re going into the Infinite Realms and they can be dangerous. So you’re going to stay close to my side and you’re going to listen to everything I say and we are going to see Frostbite to make sure you didn’t permanently injure your core getting stabbed as it was coming in! Because you were a reckless idiot and were out fighting crime while going through a transformation of your very being!”

“Are we talking about this now?”

“Don’t get cheeky—”

“I’m not,” Jason insisted. When Danny just scowled, Jason stepped forward. He cradled Danny’s face gently. “I’m not. I just want to make sure now is when you want to talk about this. I don’t want to push you.”

Danny swallowed around the lump of tension in his throat and gave a nod.

Jason let out a little breath. “I’m sorry.”

“What?”

“I’m sorry. You’re right, and I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have been out like that while this was going on. I was just— you know the first time I got sick from the ectoshot? The family was bugging me for weeks about it. They were…” Jason paused as if turning the words around in his head. “They were worried, I guess— no, I get now, because I had missed a few patrols, because I never miss patrols. I’m used to going out there and doing what I need to do no matter what’s going on or what state I’m in. I’m used to not having anyone… no, I’m used to not relying on anyone because I feel like I can’t. Because the Pit lies. It makes it feel like… I’m used to feeling like I don’t have anyone. Even though I have my family and you… I’m still trying to get used to that idea without the Pit in the way. So you’re right, and I’m sorry.”

“You could have died,” Danny choked out.

“I know.”

Danny shook his head. “You could have died and would I have even known? Would Dick have thought to tell me? And even if he did what lie would he have given? I would have just felt you… you would have just been gone, Jason! You would have died and shattered apart and you would have been gone! And I never would have known how—”

Jason yanked Danny against him, holding him so tightly that it was almost hard for Danny to breathe.

He pressed in closer.

“I know, and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

They stood there, clinging to each other, and Danny let himself fall apart a little— like he had been putting off since that night. Jason carded gentle fingers through Danny’s hair as Danny shook in his arms.

“Great. Now I’m crying,” Danny said with a pathetic sniffle when he felt worn out by his emotions.

“That’s okay,” Jason murmured.

“I didn’t mean to make this about me.”

“That’s okay too. You’re allowed to be upset, fish.”

“I’ll feel better once we get your core checked out,” Danny admitted, finally pulling back, wiping at his face.

“I’ll listen to everything you say,” Jason promised.

“You better,” Danny said, trying to sound firm. “First off, wear this.”

Danny shoved an absurdly thick coat at Jason, but he took it and put it on without comment. He really did seem like he was going to listen to Danny. Danny just tossed his own ectocase around his shoulders and let the white rings wash over him, transforming into Phantom.

He turned away from Jason, taking a moment to gather himself, before he ripped open a portal to the Realms.

-

“I know you told me yetis, but still,” Jason said with a motion at the village around him.

“Something to see, isn’t it?” Danny asked with a little grin. The smile was still a little shaky looking, but it was far better than how Danny had looked in his apartment.

Jason felt horrible for how he had worried Danny and Dick. He had been stupid, and it had been people he cared about that had paid for it. He would take any smiles that Danny could muster right then, even shaky ones.

“So how does it work, having a yeti as a doctor when you’re human?”

“I mean, I’m not right now, am I?” Danny said, motioning to his stark white hair. “I’m a ghost and all ghosts are just a core surrounded by an ectoplasmic form. That form can look like a human or a yeti or an evil plant with a chip on its shoulder—”

A what?

“—but, like, that’s just the appearance of the ectoplasm. With enough effort and will we can completely change that appearance, but most beings stick with something close to their living form, at least for those of us that were alive. Frostbite has explained that because the form we had as the living is basically imprinted on our core, so it’s the easiest and the most natural form for our ectoplasm to take. Minor changes like hair and clothing are easy, because we changed those all the time when alive, but bigger changes take more effort and a level of upkeep.

“You and I are a little unique as halfas. We’re in flux in a way that other ghosts aren’t. My from has pretty naturally aged up as my human half has, for example, though Frostbite thinks that I could still very easily revert back to the age I was when I died if I wanted too, since that’s part of the original imprint.”

Not for the first time, Jason couldn’t help but dread what his ghost form might be. If he was lucky, he’d simply change into an inverted Red Hood. But when has he been lucky like that? There was a far too certain part of Jason that knew he’d come back as he had been in the warehouse: a scared kid who had been murdered.

A Robin.

He didn’t know if he could stand to be back in that uniform.

Jason did his best to push the thought aside. If he worried about it, he’d just let it consume him. He didn’t want to be in that mindset— especially not when he was in an unknown place; not that Danny would let anything happen to him.

Besides, there was too much to look at to be lost in his own head.

“Frostbite!” Danny called out suddenly, rushing forward towards a large yeti with a crystal arm.

The yeti smiled. That was… a lot of teeth. “Great One!”

Great one?

“Are you unwell or simply here for a visit? How are you handling the lack of haunt? Come, we should look you over anyways.”

“Frostbite, I’m fine, really, but I want you to check over Jason. There was a little… incident,” Danny said. He turned to motion to Jason and waved him over. “Frostbite, this is Jason, the other halfa I’ve told you about. Jason, this is Frostbite, chief of this village and my physician.”

“It is an honor to meet another friend of the Great One,” the Chief said with a pleasant smile.

“Thanks,” Jason said, shooting Danny a look at the ‘great one’ title. Danny just rubbed at the back of his neck bashfully. “Danny’s told me how you both worked out the idea for the ecotshots for me. I appreciate the help.”

“Of course! I am always here to help a halfa with their health. There are so few of you, it is the least that I can do to offer my aid,” Frostbite said with a little half bow. “Come, we should head inside where we will have some privacy.”

“Thank you,” Jason said, aware that he was getting more than a few looks from the residents. He bundled a little deeper into his coat as they made their way inside to what was clearly a medical room, despite the wholly unusual architecture.

Frostbite motioned for Jason to take a seat on the medical bed. “Now, are you alright with King Phantom being in the room for your examination?”

“Yes,” Jason answered quickly, swallowing back the words that he’d much rather Danny be there than not. “He’s been involved so far anyways.”

“Very well,” Frostbite said and shut the door behind Danny. “There was an incident I am told?”

Jason gave a little nod. “Danny thinks it was my core coming in finally. But I was in the middle of a fight. I, ah… help protect my city. It threw me off and I got stabbed. It was a pretty bad wound.”

Danny scoffed. When Frostbite looked his way he crossed his arms with a scowl. “He could have died. I gave him an ectoshot, third one, but I’m still worried that getting hurt that badly when his core was properly forming hurt something.”

“Ah, well, we can certainly look into that, hum?” Frostbite pulled on something that seemed to be a stethoscope of some sort connected to a pitch tuner. He gestured with it for permission and Jason nodded. “What did your core feel like?”

“Burning,” Jason answered. “Is… that a bad thing?”

“Not if it is a core that is meant to burn,” the yeti said with a rumbling chuckle as he pressed the stethoscope to Jason’s chest. “Now, think a happy thought.”

“Really? What is this, Peter Pan?”

Danny covered a snort of laughter.

“Not a reference I know,” Frostbite admitted.

“They, ah, think happy thoughts to fly in the story,” Jason explained awkwardly.

“Well, as ghosts can fly and our cores are heavily responsive to our emotions, perhaps not a bad analogy,” Frostbite said. “Now, happy thoughts, please.”

Closing his eyes, Jason took a breath and let it out slowly as he grasped for something happy to think of. It was… easier than it used to be. Meals with the family, tea with Alfred, and Danny. Danny smiling in wonder in the planetarium. Danny whooping as he dashed through the waves. Dancing with Danny in the town square.

Kissing Danny.

“And there we are,” Frostbite murmured.

“How is it?” Danny asked anxiously.

“Shush.”

Now Jason felt anxious.

“Such worry,” Frostbite said as he pulled away with a chuckle. “The core is a bit quiet, perhaps, but it is still young. I do not hear any cracking or strange reverberations. The humming was strong for the age of the core. You have not transformed yet?”

“No,” Jason said, trying not to let that fear grip him about that.

Frostbit nodded. “It would be best to not yet do so. One more ectoshot at least before you try, perhaps two. There would be no harm in having another one soon to help with the growth.”

“Can you top us off?” Danny asked as he wiggled the case he’d brought at Frostbite.

“Of course, we will see to that before you leave. While you are here, Jason, would you wish to find out what type of core you have?”

“Yes, of course,” Jason said, both curious and wanting to make sure the burning was something he was supposed to feel.

“I will be right back then,” Frostbite said.

Once the yeti had left, Jason glanced over at Danny. “Feeling better?”

“Yeah. I’m glad it’s nothing, but I needed us to check, you know?”

“Hey, fish, I get it. I don’t mind having come. Who gets to say they’ve met yetis?”

“You will plenty, he’s your doctor now too,” Danny pointed out. “Oh, and I want you to take this ectocase and store it somewhere Dick can get to it if you’re hurt again, alright?”

“Sure, fish,” Jason said. He’d give Danny that little bit of security. “I’ll have it stored in the Cave and tell Dick about it.”

“Okay, good,” Danny said, letting out a tense breath.

“Hey, come here.”

When Danny stepped close, Jason tucked Danny to stand in between his lefts and gently cupped his face. “I’m going to do everything I can to be safe. I’m not going to go out on patrol right now. I’ll work with Dick to find an excuse until my core is solid. I’m sorry I scared you. I didn’t think about how this would affect everything else. But I promise you, I’m going to do everything I can to be safe now that I get it.”

“Sorry I’m worrying.”

“None of that, you’re allowed to worry,” Jason said, brushing his lips against Danny’s forehead. “Just also trust me to do my best. I just got you, I’m not going to leave you.”

“Okay,” Danny said with another measured breath. “I trust you, I do.”

“Ah, should I return in a moment?” Frostbite asked softly from the doorway.

“No, it’s fine,” Danny said, pulling back from Jason. “Really. I want to know what Jason’s core is also.”

Frostbite gave a little nod and opened the case he was carrying. In it, cradled in soft velvet, was a glass ball. Or, at least, what looked like a glass ball to Jason. It was slightly cool when Frostbite set it in Jason’s cupped hands.

“Now Jason, this will show us what your core is by projecting the appropriate imagery into the sphere. You must close your eyes and focus inside yourself. It may be harder for you in this form, but attempt to feel that burning again.”

Jason did as he was told, thinking back to the feeling on the night he was stabbed and the little flares of heat he had sensed since. He could feel it, just barely, as this heat inside his chest. It was this faint, churning ball of warmth sitting under his sternum.

“Oh,” Danny breathed. “That’s beautiful.”

“Yes,” Frostbite rumbled. “Stay focused, but you may open your eyes.”

Jason paused. He was almost afraid to know. This was the first real thing— the first proof that he was still half dead. But he had to face it.

He opened his eyes.

The sphere was glowing so brightly orange it was almost hard to look at. The light spilled through cracks and fissures of an ashen black surface that split and shifted and formed.

“…lava?”

“Lava,” Frostbite confirmed. “A powerful force. It can be destructive. It can spread across the land, decimating everything in front of it.”

Jason’s breath hitched. Of course he was a force of destruction and death. Of course he—

Frostbit’s large hands gently surrounded his, partially shielding the light from the sphere. “But it can also be creation. It can make whole new islands. And the earth left behind by a lava flow is incredibly rich— life blooms from it. It is a duality. Very fitting, I would think, for a halfa.”

The next breath shuddered through Jason, right to his center where that warmth sat. He swallowed heavily against the lump in his throat. “I… yeah.”

Frostbite carefully took the sphere from Jason’s hand, the lava flared once before it the sphere was clear again. Frostbite turned around to put it away, and Jason was pretty certain it was all so that he could have a moment to compose himself.

He didn’t even realize he was crying until Danny stepped close to wipe the tears away. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, sorry. I just…” Jason cleared his throat. “I guess it was just a lot suddenly, seeing that.”

“I meant what I said, it was beautiful,” Danny said.

Jason smiled. He was sure it was more than a little watery, but it was an honest smile. “Thank you.”

“Now, do you have any questions about your core?” Frostbite asked.

Jason took a moment to think about that. “I won’t… there’s no way for me to hurt Danny, is there? With him having an ice core.”

“No,” Frostbite said with another one of his chuckles. “In a normal situation, you would have an advantage in a fight, should you use your elemental powers, but King Phantom has a way of assuming the powers that he battles against. He has very few weaknesses in that manner. And you will be of no harm being simply near him. In fact, it may be a nice balance— he runs cold and you warm. If one was being poetic, one could say you are made for each other.”

“You’re talking like it’s fate.”

“With the Great One, it’s never wise to rule anything out,” Frostbite said with a chuckle. “Come now, let us see to getting you ecto and let you go on your way. I am sure it has been a long day.”

It really had; long, but not bad.

Not bad at all.

-----

AN: This chapter fought me with my poor health, but here we are! And we finally figure out what Jason's core is! I hope everyone likes the choice~

And things also continue to settle down a little. Though Danny is going to be hounded by his friends for sure!

Stay delightful, darlings!

I no longer tag people. You can instead subscribe to be notified at the masterpost!

[neowinestainedress]

Hey! Could I ask for some drabble/fic if you're comfortable with it? Bf haechan can't keep his hands off of her gf's body. All day sensually rubbing her nipples, belly, clit, even with her clothes on. It gets her aroused and she returns the favor by rubbing his body on the sensitive parts too. She just doesn't know that he's so eager to breed her until one day he did a number on her and promised to make her boobs lactating and her belly swollen soon. Only then she realizes how nasty and messy he actually gets every time they fuck. At the end of the day, he lays you down on your back and puts a pillow to support your hips, believing it could help you conceive better. Love your work.

w!: unprotected s*x, breeding kink, pregnancy talk, fingering, handjob, nipple play, dirty talk, aftercare

a/n: this took me longer than i wanted to but i received two breeding kink asks in a row and i didn’t want to make a copy of one another so i needed a break in between. anyway, i hope it was worth the wait!

“Why are you so touchy?” You ask, tilting your head to the side to look at your boyfriend that’s laying on the couch with you, his hands not leaving a single spot of your body untouched. 

“What? I can’t appreciate your body?” Haechan pouts, lightly squeezing your boob and making you laugh. 

“No, ‘course you can,” you say, closing the book you’re reading and keeping the mark with your thumb, “it’s just you’re all over me lately. More than usual, and your usual is already a lot.” 

Haechan shrugs, going back to caress your belly until his fingers craze your covered clit through the fabric of the thin shorts you’re wearing. 

“Oh, yeah, I had to imagine this is where it was going,” you giggle. 

“I’ve been thinking,” he whispers, starting to rub his fingertips in circles. 

“About fucking me?” 

He shakes his head, and nervously bites his lips. “Yeah, but not really. It’s more specific…” 

“Oh, what is it?” 

“Nothing, just go back to reading,” 

You frown, confused he’s hiding something from you. Usually, he’s pretty upfront about everything that runs through his mind, so how weird could this be? But you shrug it off, enjoying the feeling of his hands on your clit and nipples. 

“Fuck it,” you groan when the feeling gets stronger, and you carelessly slam the book on the coffee table before turning around to face him. Your hands quickly find their way in his pants, moving under the hem of his underwear to grab his hard dick. “Just touching my boobs got you so hard?” 

“It’s not my fault they’re so pretty,” he says, eyes falling on them, perfectly pressed against the tight top by the bra, “… and so full.”

“What?” You ask, not sure you heard right, but he shuts you with a kiss. 

Another frown forms on your face, and you start thinking that he might have a sudden passion for boobs so the hand that’s not stroking his dick moves up on his stomach until it reaches his sensitive nipples. 

“Fuck,” he moans, head falling back. 

“Oh, sensitive, aren’t you?” 

“Shut up,” he grunts but you only chuckle at his flustered expression. 

You think you’ve solved the enigma, but you have no idea how far from the solution you actually are until a few days later Haechan’s fucking you, legs on his shoulders and cock slamming inside you. 

“Wanna breed you,” he confesses, and from the temporary shock on his face you know he didn’t mean to say it out loud, but his secret is out so he decides to be honest. “I’m sorry, but I really want you — fuck — want to see you carry my baby.”

You’re a bit taken aback, mostly because your brain is already far gone from all the fingering, and touching, that this new information mid-sex it’s the last drop. 

“Do you want to?” He asks, hips slowing down just a bit. “Want to be the mother of my children?” 

“I do, I — shit — yes, I want to,” you whimper, a bit surprised this is even up for discussion. 

“Fuck, babe, I love you so much,” he groans, kissing you messily as he goes back to the fast rhythm of before, leaving you breathless. 

You should’ve known, from how messy he is, how happy he was the first time you let him fuck you raw, how he sucked at pulling out (because even if you were on the pill you were pretty forgetful and thought that could save you), how messy he actually was once you two were done, pumping his fingers into your swollen cunt to push all his cum back in, and lastly, how unbothered he was when you forgot the pill.

“I want it so much, want to see you all full of me, want to see your boobs grow and be full of milk,” he groans before his hand cups the right one, touching it gently as he leans down to suck the other nipple, making you arch your back and moan louder. “I’ll take care of you, massage you when you’re sore.” 

You can only whimper and cry as you feel overwhelmed with pleasure, yet you can’t help bucking your hips into him, eager to feel more. 

“Gonna give you another load, babe. Gonna make sure you’re full of my cum, so much it overflows,” he says, voice hoarse as his hips snap faster in and out of you. Want my cum?” 

You nod swiftly, feeling close to the edge again, looking at him with watery eyes. 

“Beg me for it, beg me,” Haechan moans, voice pitched and face contorted in pleasure. “Beg me to make you a mommy.”

“Please, Hyuck, please, breed me,” you plead, nails sinking into the skin of his arms when you can’t control your body anymore. 

“Fuck,” he groans, “come with me,” he urges, rubbing quick circles on your clit, triggering your orgasm and consequently triggering his too. 

“What are you doing?” You ask when he grabs a pillow from the end of the bed and gently places it under your hips, pushing some cum back into you with two fingers, making you bite back a whimper. 

Haechan smiles, leaning close to kiss you. “Heard it helps conceive,” he confesses shyly, a red blush spreading on his face. 

“You don’t get to act shy after you just confessed a breeding kink and probably even succeeded considering how forgetful I am of the pill,” you joke, wrapping your arms around his neck. 

“Maybe it’s your unconscious telling you something,” he says, caressing your belly, making you look down. 

“Maybe,” you smile, sighing happily. “Maybe we could also go for another round later, just to make sure we succeed.” 

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[tellyouily]

i'll take you all the way

dnf - fluff - late night conversations - 792 words

just dnf talking about silly things late at night and being very soft about it as per usual

my first dip into writing in a long while – i hope you enjoy!! :)

Credits start to roll on George’s laptop screen, and Dream lets his eyes fall shut to the familiar outro music. George’s warmth leaves him when he sits up to move the laptop onto the floor, and Dream is tired enough to try to pull him back immediately.

“Okay, chill,” George huffs, but Dream ignores it, burying his face in the back of George’s neck as soon as he’s lying down again.

“What even is that show?” Dream mumbles, his words muffled. “It’s ass.”

“It’s not,” George insists. They’ve had this discussion before, and Dream usually doesn’t win. Either way, he is happy to watch almost anything that George wants if it’s late enough and the day has been long enough.

George shuffles around and pushes at Dream’s shoulder gently, urging him to lay down flat so George can lay his head on his chest. “I think you like it subconsciously.”

Dream hums. Maybe he does—he honestly couldn’t name one detail of any episode they’ve watched. Mostly because he has been half– if not fully asleep for all of them. He closes his eyes and absentmindedly slips just his fingertips under the band of George’s sleep shorts.

“Dream.”

“Mm?”

“Do you think people actually have good sex on their honeymoons?”

“Wh–” The absurdity of the question makes Dream laugh despite the exhaustion in his limbs. “I don’t know—how would I know that?”

He can only assume that he missed something to do with this in the episode, but if he’s honest it could just as well be taken completely out of thin air. George shrugs, “You know things.”

Dream tries to picture it—the first night together between a married couple. “I mean, I’d assume not,” he says eventually.

“Why?”

Dream sinks slightly into the hand playing with his hair, feeling so comfortable that he could slip away to sleep in less than a minute if he wanted.

“‘Cause you’d be tired from the wedding and the dinner and all of that,” he replies anyway, because George asked.

“And there’d be so much pressure,” he adds.

George hums thoughtfully.

“Plus… you’d probably both be super drunk, and like, overexcited.”

Dream fidgets with the fabric hem between his fingertips, his thumb grazing the soft skin of George’s stomach. He’s been getting toned this past year and Dream is as obsessed with it as he is with everything George-related: very .

“Also, some people save their first time for their wedding night, right? And that sex just… can’t be good. There’s no way.”

George snorts, which makes Dream laugh, too.

“Why is that funny?”

“Just is,” George says with another shrug. “Why do you know everything?”

Dream noses at soft curls. “I don’t, idiot.” He slides his hand across George’s stomach, “I just know the answers to your stupid questions.”

George laughs, carding his fingers through Dream’s hair and trailing them down to his ear, his jaw. His thumb ghosts Dream’s bottom lip, pressing into it once.

“We’d both fall asleep early,” he predicts after a moment.

Dream smiles, because George is probably right. “Yeah.”

Silence envelops them then, and Dream feels like he’s punishing himself when he reluctantly draws his hand away from George and pokes one leg out from the duvet. He turns to George, “I have to go put Patches in her room."

George sighs and stretches, and Dream leans in and kisses his face at random before getting up. "I'll be right back."

The tiles in the hallway are cold beneath his feet and it might just be how tired he is, but not being in his bed right now hits him like physical pain. It hurts enough to make him hurry up, beelining for the room he knows Patches is in.

His office is her favorite room in the house as much as it’s his least favorite right now. Both because it’s a room without his warm bed that currently has George in it, and because Fusion is slowly making him lose his mind. He finds Patches curled up into herself in her usual spot in his office chair, and lifts her carefully into his arms to take her to her room.

She would wake them all up at four a.m. if they let her roam free, so getting her a room was the compromise. That is, a room with food, water, a litter box, soft blankets, and a cat door she hasn’t realized (yet) that she can use whenever she wants.

Back in his own room, Dream has never been so ready to let sleep overtake him. He slips back under the sleep-warm covers, and smiles when George – already dead asleep – immediately melts to his side.

If their honeymoon ends anything like this, he couldn't be happier.