#this post isn’t a promise but I’m at least going to try to get there | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

rememberwren · 5 months ago

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Skin Deep

Tattoo artist!Simon x fem!reader. Reader, looking to expand her horizons, gets her first tattoo from Simon. 8.4k. Features: soft!Simon who is bad at people-ing, vaginal sex, lots of nipples, like at least three nipples, poor writing, abrupt transitions, shy and awkward reader. Based on this post.

Sequel here.

“I bit the bullet!” you shout over the music, hand cupped around your friend’s ear to be better heard. She shrieks in delight at the sound of your voice, turning to wrap her arms around your waist and pull you close to her swaying body. Many eyes in the club follow her movements. She has always been the wild child to your wallflower, attracting attention wherever she goes.

“You bit what?” she shouts back, her breath like a mint julep.

“The bullet,” you laugh. “I called that guy you recommended and set up an appointment. For the tattoo I wanted!”

She stares at you blankly. Her silky little tank top is drooping off of one shoulder, so you reach out and tuck it back into place. The longer she stares, the more nervous you grow. She’d been so encouraging after your last boyfriend dumped you—encouraging you to step outside your comfort zone, to ‘make more mistakes’, to live life more fully. Now she’s staring at you like you’ve grown a second head and it’s the one doing the talking.

“What guy I recommended?” she asks.

“Kevin!”

“Oh no. No, no, no. Not Kevin. Not Kevin. Why, Kevin?”

You frown. “You said you went to Kevin.”

“It wasn’t a recommendation, sweetie, if anything it was to caution you away from him! He’s a creep; there’s a reason why I never went back.”

You deflate like a balloon, going limp and letting her drag you to the nearby free seats at the bar where you sit heavily. It’s not just the tattoo. It’s the icing on a shitcake of a day.

A new song seamlessly starts, and the dancers nearby go wild with excitement. Your mood is the antithesis of the event; everyone seems to be having a great time except for you. Story of your life.

“You conveniently left that out. Ugh. I’ll cancel it. What am I even fucking doing—thank you—” you accept the cup of ice water the bartender slides in front of you with a shy smile, sipping at it and keeping your hand curled over the top of it protectively. “—none of this is like me.”

Your friend frowns. She steals your drink and sips at it. “You were the one who said you’d always wanted a tattoo. You’re an adult. These are exactly the kinds of decisions you’re old enough to make. Look, fuck Kevin. All my friends hate Kevin. I know another guy, and he’s highly recommended. Let me give you his number. Alright?”

“Alright,” you sigh. You make a silent promise to yourself though: if it doesn’t work out with this next tattoo artist, then you won’t be getting one at all. You’ll take it as a sign from the universe to get back in your comfort zone and stay there, once and for all.

What kind of a moniker is Ghost? you wonder to yourself as you skim the Instagram of the shop this Ghost owns. The profile picture is one of the building itself, and all of the pictures are of various inked body parts. Beautiful ones, admittedly. But no hint of the mysterious figure who owns the shop. There is a personal instagram linked @GHOST89 but it is private when you try to click on it.

The phone number your friend gave you rings straight through to voicemail. You let out a shaky breath. Fuck, you hate voicemail. Talking to people was difficult enough; talking to people’s disembodied machines was even worse somehow. It isn’t until you’ve hung up after leaving your message that you realize you forgot to tell him your fucking name (genius!). Groaning, you contemplate dialing him back when the phone in your hand rings—and it’s him.

“Hello?”

“I’m free Wednesdays for consultations,” says a baritone voice from the other end of the line.

Nice to talk to you too, you think dryly. Maybe this guy is as bad at the phone as you are. “I work Wednesdays. Are you free in the evenings?”

He sighs, like this is going to be very strenuous for him.

“Name a time. I’ll pencil you in. Half is due at the end of the consultation upon booking an appointment. Cash only,” he says.

Jesus Christ, could he be anymore abrupt? While a tiny part of you is grateful that he isn’t trying to make small talk, a larger part is terrified that you’ve already made an impression so foul that it’s incurred his wrath. What other reason could he have for being so stilted?

“Alright,” you answer cautiously. “How’s five?”

“Five. Don’t be late.”

He hangs up on you, leaving you wondering why every step outside your comfort zone must be so bloody far.

You arrive early to the consultation, only to find that the building itself—a tidy little brick two-floor, adorned with a sign that dubbed it SKIN DEEP tattoos & artisan piercings, which you recognize from Instagram—is locked. A note written in neat handwriting taped to the door declares NO WALK INS. Your palms are sweaty. You wipe them on your work slacks, but it doesn’t help. How are you supposed to get in?

All at once a shadow appears on the other side of the door. The shadow is enormous: well above six feet tall, and broad shouldered. A black surgical mask is tucked up over his mouth and nose, which only adds to his intimidating aura. Judging by the impressive sleeve of tattoos he has, you imagine that this is the guy.

Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. And Ghost.

Dark brown eyes stare down at you when he opens the door, cocking a hip against the frame, staring at you. Waiting.

Waiting for you to explain your presence, you realize.

“I have a consultation,” you blurt out. “At…five?”

He opens the door wider to let you pass without a word. He’s so broad that you can smell him as you pass him: clean and masculine. The inside of the tattoo shop is bigger than it looks on the outside. There is a reception area with a desk and a computer and printer. The glossy wooden floors are polished to shine, leading to an open floor plan. There is a small sitting area with armchairs, a wide sofa, and a table on which rests two bottles of water, a notebook, and a steaming mug of liquid.

“Sit,” he says, his voice the same deep rumble you recognize from the phone. He chooses the chair beside the mug. His body is so goddamn long, his legs lean and thick all at once where he stretches them out in front of him. He reaches for the mug and takes a sip—of tea, judging by the smell. “Name?”

You tell him, perching yourself anxiously on the other chair. He glances up at you, eyes raking over your posture. Suddenly he tugs the mask down to rest beneath his chin, revealing a full, pale mouth. A straight, noble nose. A pink scar stretches across his lips and up towards his cheek.

“The water is for you,” he says.

“Oh!” You reach forward and take one bottle, breaking the seal. “Thank you.”

“This is your first tattoo.”

“What gave me away?” you ask with a weak laugh.

He doesn’t laugh. “Everything. Is someone putting you up to this? This smells like Soap.”

“What? No, of course not. I want this, I’m just, I’m an anxious personality. I promise.” You hesitate and then add: “I probably smell like soap because I showered this morning.”

His mouth twitches. He leans back in his seat and sucks on his teeth, and you get the distinct feeling that he is trying very hard not to laugh at you. Why had you mentioned to him that you showered? What was wrong with you? Just as you’re comprising a list of things, he picks up the pencil and the notebook, opening to a fresh page.

He asks what you want and God, that’s a harder question.

You do your best to express your idea, but your words feel halting and silly. His pencil scratches rapidly at the paper as he listens in total silence—pausing only once, when you say that you want this to be a sternum piece. Only then does his pencil seem to hover over the paper, his dark eyes seeking you out and pinning you in place on the armchair.

He reaches for his tea to take a generous sip and then continues writing.

He asks a few pointed, concise questions (and you’re just thrilled he was actually listening), following your answers up with more scribbling in his notebook. At length, he shuts the book.

“I think I see the vision. Give me thirty to sketch something and we’ll see if you want to book an appointment. Something this size, on your sternum could take more than one session, depending on how well you sit. How do you take pain?”

“I mean, it hurts?” you offer.

He stares. “Two sessions. Let me sketch something. Drink your water.”

You think that maybe he’ll move to another room to sketch, but he just flips to a clean page and begins to work right there (drawing the mask up over his nose and mouth again). With nothing else to do, you can’t help but watch him.

He’s handsome, in an odd sort of way. His brow is a little too low, his gaze a little too intimidating to be considered conventionally attractive, but you find him fascinating to look at, especially when he is so clearly in the throes of something he enjoys doing. It’s almost like watching someone have sex. The thought makes your face go warm. You pick up your phone, determined not to look at him again.

“Here.”

You glance up from your mindless scrolling. What he shows you is a beautiful rendition of what you had expressed wanting. There are a few key differences, and he patiently explains why he made the decisions he did. He didn’t make the changes because he thought your idea was stupid. He made them so the image would better fit the contours of your body. He made them because the ink will spread over time, and he wants the look to stay clean.

His thoughtfulness touches you.

“I love it. I want it,” you say, enthusiasm getting the better of you.

“This is just a first sketch,” he says dryly, making that warmth return to your face. “I’ll text you a few variations this week, and we can nail down the final piece. You want to book?”

“Yes,” you say, nearly buzzing. “I really want to book.”

He’s expensive—but judging by the book of his artwork that is available for you to flip through at the front desk while he quotes you a price and writes you up a receipt, he is more than worth the money. Fuck, he’s got skill. You thought that maybe his art style was too dark for what you wanted, but you found that he was able to adapt styles nicely. You just hoped this tattoo wouldn’t bore him to death.

“Thanks again for meeting with me,” you say as he sees you out. “I’ll be waiting for your text.”

“You’ll get it.” He glances past you out the window. It’s dark. “Did you walk?”

“No, my car is just there.”

“I’ll wait.”

And he does. His figure darkens the doorway until you have shut your car and locked the doors, temporary insanity making you give him a short wave. He raises two fingers and then disappears.

You didn’t tell me this guy was cute, you text to your friend.

GHOST? Cute? I’ve never even seen his face lol. He’s always wearing one of his masks.

You chew over this information. Yes he’d been wearing a mask, but he’d lowered it for you. Did that mean something? Did it mean something that you wanted it to mean something?

Masks are cute, you say.

Fuck the tattoo artist!!!! she says. Maybe he’ll ink you for free.

You’re terrible.

You’re…thinking about it.

Two days later, you squint blearily into the darkness at your phone after it vibrates on your nightstand. The time reads twelve past one in the morning. It’s from GHOST.

The two images he sends are beautiful; enough to rouse you straight from sleep into wakefulness.

I love them both, you tell him. But the second one is amazing. I think that’s the one.

Keep your appointment. Ten minutes later (after you have already fallen back to sleep) he sends: wear something appropriate.

And fuck, you didn’t even think of that.

“You’re being ridiculous,” you mutter to yourself in the mirror, turning sideways to assess yourself. On the bed behind you are a series of button up shirts, all of which you have tried on at one point or another.

“You are,” your friend agrees from where she lounges on your bed, scrolling on her phone. “Your tits are cute. Let Ghost see them.”

The look you give her is the one the phrase ‘if looks could kill’ was modeled after, surely. She doesn’t even see it, so the effect is lost entirely. You turn your gaze back to the silicone nipple adhesive covers again, still stuck to their adhesive backing. You’ve already used one set of the pack of three, and they covered your nipple and areolas nicely, but still left you feeling so exposed.

“Be glad you’re not going to creepy Kevin anymore,” your friend says.

“Very glad of it.”

You felt reasonably safe with Ghost, but still a degree of embarrassment about your own body. Or perhaps that was too strong a word—it didn’t embarrass you, but it felt private. Baring your breasts to a near stranger (especially one you had a grudging attraction to) made your anxiety reach epic level proportions.

“You should text him about it, see if he has any advice for you. He’s been doing this for years. I’m sure he’s seen it all,” she says—the first good idea she’s had all night, miles ahead of ‘Just let Ghost see your cute tits’.

That night, you take her advice and text him, hoping you aren’t overstepping some weird artist-client boundary.

I’m a little nervous.

You can cancel, is all he says. I’ll refund your money.

It’s not that.

What is it?

Not really accustomed to the nakedness tbh. There. You said it. Let him think you some prim priss; it was true.

But all he said back was: how can I help?

I don’t know, you admit. Then; sorry. I’m probably bothering you with this while you’re working.

I’m not working. Five minutes later, when it seems as if you aren’t going to message back: I keep the shop closed to the public. One customer at a time: you. I’ll let my piercer know I’m with a client and not to walk in. I’ll keep you covered every moment I can. Better?

Relief, warm and sweet curling low in your belly, you let him know: much better.

You bring the pasties anyway.

The day of your appointment, you are so nervous you are shaking. Now you know the truth behind the phrase ‘knees knocking together’, as you stand outside SKIN DEEP waiting for Ghost’s hulking figure to appear on the other side of the glass.

When it does, he’s like a little punch to the gut. That black surgical mask is in place—typical for him, if your friend’s words are to be trusted—but his blond hair, cropped short to his scalp is riotous in a way that is adorably charming, like he hasn’t been able to keep his hands out of it. His black t-shirt stretches across his broad shoulders, and his jeans fit him nicely around his thick thighs.

You’re horrified to find that your attraction to him has grown. Exponentially. Your friend’s words echo in your mind—fuck the tattoo artist, maybe he’ll ink you for free.

“Hi,” you squeak.

Ghost raises both his brows. He opens the door wider for you to slip past him. Fuck he still smells good.

“I’m still nervous,” you blurt out, hoping that speaking the truth out loud will help you feel better. It doesn’t.

“That’s normal. You can back out at any time, but the earlier the better. Come look at the image and tell me if it’s still what you want.”

It’s exactly what you want, and more.

“It’s perfect. You’re very talented.”

He huffs a little, like you shouldn’t have said such a thing.

The chair is a great leather contraption which reclines comfortably once he’s gotten you in it (after making you use the restroom first, during which you took the time to splash water on your burning face and double check that your pasties were in place covering all the cutest bits according to your friend). Simon moves around you, making preparations with the ease of someone who has done this work for many years.

You fight the arousal that blooms in your belly at the sight of him doing such benign things as washing his hands, putting on gloves, opening fresh needles, preparing little wells of ink and sticking them to the movable cart with Vaseline. There’s just something about a person who knows exactly what they’re doing and who is able to do it with efficacy.

“Ready?” he asks at length.

You nod, hoping your nerves don’t show on your face. Steeling yourself, you unbutton the shirt you’re wearing. His eyes follow your hands, but there is a detached, clinical sort of expression in them. He’s not watching a strip tease, he’s looking at a canvas.

Finally, you sit in front of him in only the pasties, the shirt lax around your shoulders, and your sweatpants, socked toes curling in anxiety in your shoes. Without missing a beat, he leans the chair all the way back. Then he opens a fresh disposable razor and shaves you.

“Am I hairy?” you ask, resting your hands oh-so-casually over your breasts to keep them out of his way.

“Yes,” he says. Then his eyes flicker to yours. “Everyone is. Everywhere. It’s normal.”

“I’m just teasing you.”

“Didn’t think you had the breath in your body left to tease me,” he mutters, voice nearly lost behind his mask as he carefully works the razor across your skin removing the baby-fine hairs from beneath your breasts and across your sternum. “You’re nervous, I mean.”

“Would you take the mask off?” you ask on a whim. It had helped last time, to see his face.

“No,” he says. He adds: “Sorry. It’s more sanitary f’you if I keep it on.”

You get the feeling that he really is sorry—and that’s well enough. Some of the anxiety in your belly fades away. He would take it off if he could. The most anxious part of the process (baring yourself to a stranger) has already passed. Maybe now you can begin to relax.

After cleaning your skin, he carefully lays the stencil and has you stand up to look at it in the mirror and make sure the placement is correct and holy fucking shit. It’s sexy. You’ve always been attracted to tattoos, and fancied the idea of getting one on your sternum for far longer than you’d ever admitted to anyone, but seeing it come to life gives you a rush you hadn’t expected. You feel so…badass.

“Good?” He asks.

“Very good,” you answer, sitting back down, hoping he ignores the way your breasts bounce a little as you do. He leans you back again and this time breaks out the needle gun.

But before he uses it on you, he carefully takes a clean towel and lays it over your left breast, covering the parts of you that are not nearest to his eyes. His gentleness and thoughtfulness go straight to your cunt.

“Thank you,” you say softly.

He just nods. The gun buzzes to life. “I’ll make a line and see how you feel. Last chance to back out without any souvenirs.”

“I’m not backing out.”

He clicks his tongue as if to say, It’s your funeral. Then he lays his hand on your sternum above your breasts, pinning you in place, and makes a gentle line.

It burns more than you expected it to. There’s a sandpaper quality to it, almost like the rasping of a cat’s tongue. The pain is sharp and bright, but it isn’t overwhelming. In fact…a strange part of you sort of enjoys it. Maybe it’s the rush of endorphins.

“Good?” He asks.

“Good,” you squeak.

You hear his quiet laugh, no more than an exhale of breath.

“Let me know when you need to break.”

You don’t know how you feel about the way he phrases that: when you need to break. He adjusts his mask a little, leans over you, and gets to work. Sometimes the needles pass over a place that is more sensitive than the others, making you flinch. He pauses when this happens, eyes flickering up to your own, making sure you are alright even though he can likely feel the pounding of your heart beneath his hand. That hand on your chest, wrist just brushing the top of your breast, is a solid warm weight that seems to tether you back down to the earth as he lines you. He is very careful not to brush against your breast when he wipes away the excess ink and traces of blood, but you feel hyper-attuned to how easy it would be for him if he wanted to. How huge his hand is compared to your tit. Beneath the pasties, your nipples ache with tension, a tension that is mirrored between your legs.

“Alright. Break,” he says, abruptly turning the gun off. He covers your exposed breast with another towel. “Take ten.”

He disposes of his gloves and disappears behind a curtain in the back, leaving you throbbing between the legs. Worming your phone free from your pocket, you scroll aimlessly, hoping to calm your raging hormones. He returns right at the ten minute mark, just as his cellphone rings. He glances toward where it rests on the table, but makes no move to answer it.

“Do you need to get that?” you ask, offering him an out.

“No,” he says. “I make everyone leave a message. Weeds out the cowards.”

It had almost weeded out you, you think about telling him, but in the end you decide against it. He gloves back up.

“Good for more?”

And so it repeats.

At one point, he runs into a patch of sensitive skin on your ribs just overlaying the bone. It has you sucking in a breath through your teeth, eyes squeezing shut. It’s too late to turn back now you tell yourself; the only way out is through.

His thumb gently strokes your sternum.

“It’s rough. You can take it,” he says, quiet and focused. The buzzing of the gun never ceases as he tries to make his work as quick as possible, his words a little distant and distracted. “Just keep breathing. That’s it. Good girl.”

Jesus. Did he not have any idea what those words could do to a girl? A groan escapes your lips, and he clearly mistakes it for pain, because his thumb strokes again the soft skin over your heart, just above the curve of your breast.

“You can do it. Just a little longer for me, and we’ll break.”

“Hurts,” you breathe, flinching again.

He hushes you, surprisingly tender.

“This is the worst of it.” This time, his thumb does brush the edge of your breast, making you suck in a gasp. He recoils, hand lifting away from you and curling into a fist. He rests that against you instead, taking away any further hope that he might brush his fingertips against you. You make it through the rough patch with tears in your eyes but no worse for wear.

“Break. Ten minutes,” he says again, already shredding his gloves and moving to disappear behind the curtain.

You call out: “Hey, wait—I’d rather just get through it in one go if I can. If this really is the worst of it.”

“I need breaks too,” he says stonily.

You duck your head, feeling silly. “Right. Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” He vanishes again.

He is late to return to you. Only by five minutes or so, but noticeably for a man so usually punctual and so demanding of punctuality in you. His face is stoic—what bits of it you can see from behind the mask—as he washes his hands thoroughly and preps his work station again.

This time his hand keeps a very respectable distance from your breasts—a fact which you both lament and appreciate all in one. He works with single-minded efficiency, giving you his entire focus. You break once more, but this time he breaks in the room with you, stretching out his back and neck (giving you a generous glimpse of his belly when his shirt rides up, exposing cut abs and a happy trail you’d give your life to follow).

“I think we could do this in one sitting, if you have nowhere else to be,” he mutters at length.

“Eager to be done?” you wonder.

He stares at you, expression flat, and says nothing. Nothing needs to be said.

“I don’t have anywhere to be,” you murmur, staring up at the bright adjustable light that he has positioned over you. You hope he mistakes that for the reason behind any mistiness in your eyes, his rudeness cutting you deeply.

So the two of you push through later into the evening, until you are sweating at your temples and the base of your neck from the continuous pain for so long. At last he lays the last gradient for the shading, sprays you down, and wipes you clean so very gently.

“Go take a look. I’m going to cover it up.”

It’s beautiful. Stunning, even. You let your shirt gape closed and cover the pasties, revealing a broad glimpse of the sternum tattoo, and it is the sexiest you have ever felt. It almost makes your eyes burn anew.

“I love it,” you choke out. “Thank you.”

“Can I take a picture of it?” he asks. “For Instagram.”

“Sure!” It will feel a little like being famous, you think, judging by how much notice each of the photos on his Instagram garners. He crouches down on the floor to be at the perfect height, reaches out and gently adjusts your shirt. Parts of the tattoo are covered—the very far edges—but you can’t deny how sexy it is. Maybe he feels the same way.

After he takes the photo, he posts it and asks for your handle to tag you in it. Then he says: “Let me cover it up. Keep it covered overnight, but tomorrow let it breathe. Keep it clean. Don’t do anything stupid to it. Understand?”

“I understand.”

“And if you have any questions—text me.”

You get home to find that Ghost’s personal account has requested to follow you. Thrumming with nerves and excitement, you accept the request and send one of your own, spending the night scrolling through his Instagram (so, so carefully to avoid any incidental ‘likes’). Plenty of the photos are of his artwork, still. But there are ones of his dog: a German Shepherd that is thankfully much more photogenic than her surly owner. There are three or four photos featuring Ghost himself, and only one has his full face in the picture. You find yourself staring at his fixated expression for longer than is respectable.

Three days later when you find yourself panicking, you don’t text him like he asked you to. You call.

Your skin is peeling off. Peeling. Off. The sight of it makes your stomach roll. The entire tattoo is hot to the touch, and the skin around it feels warm as well. Flushed. Is it supposed to hurt this much?

The internet doesn’t help. The peeling is normal, sure. But everything else is suggesting that your tattoo could be infected. What sort of ink did Ghost use? Was it reputable? What if the infection reaches your bloodstream? You were too young to die! Your anxiety spirals like a plane with one wing, trailing smoke as it soars straight down, determined to take you with it.

With shaking hands, you don’t even think about texting Ghost. You go straight to calling him, tapping his number in your phone and pressing it to your ear, listening to the ring.

He’s going to send you to voicemail, just like he does to everyone else—except he doesn’t. All the sudden there is glorious feedback from the other end: a cacophony of voices and laughter, clearly some sort of gathering.

“Yes?” Ghost says into the phone, as if that’s a decent hello.

“There’s something wrong with my tattoo!” you cry.

“Wait—get out of my goddamn way.” There is rustling, and then the noise decreases substantially. You can almost see him standing outside whatever bar his friends have brought him to, mask down around his chin, hand over his other ear as he strains to listen to you. “Say it again. Now I can fucking hear you.”

“There’s. Something. Wrong,” you say through your teeth. “With my tattoo!”

“Well? What is it?”

“It’s falling off, for one!”

He snorts. “That’s normal. That's why you called?”

“It’s all swollen and hot. And it hurts.”

Now that shuts him up. He sighs a little, switches the phone from one ear to the other. “Hurts how bad?”

“Worse than getting it.”

“Fuck me. Alright. Meet me at the shop in…twenty?”

“Twenty minutes from now?”

“From when else?” He hangs up. Man doesn’t know the meaning of the word goodbye.

The night is cool. You don’t bother with a bra, not when it irritates your tattoo so much. Pulling your jacket closed more tightly around yourself, you walk from your parking spot along the street to the tattoo shop.

Ghost stands outside at the curb. His figure is unmistakable. He is smoking, mask down, the lit end of his cigarette a burning ember that flares bright in the darkness. When he sees you coming, he crushes the cigarette beneath his boot and opens the door to the shop, which is still and dark. He flicks on a light switch as he goes, casting the place in a warm glow.

He’s dressed in his usual dark jeans and an obscenely tight t-shirt, his sleeve of tattoos on display. He leaves the mask down. His eyes are on your tits—or resting where your tattoo is beneath your clothes.

“Well. Sit. Show me.”

You sit in one of the armchairs, your shoulders rising in defensiveness. “What, just flash you?”

“Nothing I’ve never seen before.”

Gritting your teeth, you begin unbuttoning your shirt until it gapes open. You cup your breasts with your hands, maintaining your modesty while putting the tattoo on full display. He narrows his eyes, leaning down. His fingers reach out, but then he thinks twice and washes his hands.

“I was smoking,” he says when you roll your eyes in exasperation.

“You’re worried about getting the chemicals on my skin but not in your lungs?”

“Fuck my lungs,” he mutters. His fingers hover over your tattoo. “Can I?”

You nod. His fingers are cool when they gently prod and ghost along the edges of the tattoo, feeling for the signature warmth of an infection. “Any fever?” he asks.

“Not that I’ve noticed.”

“You feel warm, but I’ve felt warmer. I don’t think it’s infected. Have you tried icing it?”

“No,” you admit.

“Ice will help. Just use something clean, for fuck’s sake.” As he speaks, his breath fans across your chest, making you shiver. He sees this, his eyes darkening. “When you called, I thought it was for me.”

“It was for you,” you say, brow furrowing. “Who else?”

He snorts, lips quirking. It tugs on the scar across his lips. “Forget it.”

“Forget what?”

“Talking about it goes against forgetting it.”

You groan, tossing up your hands. “You’re impossible.”

He reaches out and jerks your shirt closed, hastily doing up a button. Your face burns as you do up the rest of the buttons—you end up having to backtrack and redo them because he was off by one.

“Thank you for meeting me. I’m sorry it was for nothing.”

“It wasn’t for nothing,” he says. “And I wasn’t doing much.”

“You were with friends,” you insist.

His eyes narrow. “Who told you that?”

“I saw it on your Instagram tonight.”

“Nosey.”

“I could buy you a drink sometime,” you offer after a lengthy pause, your heart pounding loud enough to fill the silence between you. Are you really doing this? Are you really asking him out? “Make up for the ones I lost you tonight.”

“Maybe.”

God, it’s like he’s not getting it. Maybe you need to be bolder. Fortune favors the bold, doesn’t it? Your hands are shaking when they fall back to the buttons on your shirt.

“Would you take one more look at my tattoo? Just to be…positive?”

He sighs and makes an impatient hand gesture. Your fingers fumble through the buttons again. You don’t cover yourself with your hands this time; just keep the halves of your shirt over your nipples. He dutifully exams the tattoo again, prodding gently, laying the flat of his fingers against it to feel the warmth it lets off.

“Maybe you should look closer.”

His eyes flicker up to yours. “Closer.”

Your mouth is dry. “Yeah.”

“Can’t get much closer than I am.”

“You could—if you wanted to.”

“If I—“ it hits him then. You can see it in the fractional widening of his eyes, the way his mouth parts softly in blatant surprise before he shuts it, dark eyes returning to your sternum. He says: “Closer.”

“Mhm.”

The back of his hand brushes against your breast, causing your breath to hitch. His thumb traces softly along the outline of the tattoo, following the path just beneath your shirt, nudging the fabric aside slowly, so slowly, until your breast is bare, nipple puckered and aching.

“Fucking hell,” he mutters. His eyes flicker to yours as if to see if you really want this—and whatever he sees must reassure him, because then he is sweeping his fingertips along the bottom curve of your breast and taking it into his hand, his palm rasping gently over your nipple. All the breath rushes out of you. Your thighs clench together. Already you’re aching—have been since you saw his mouth around that cigarette on the street—but he moves with determined caution. His thumb finds your nipple and teases it, pulling a desperate little sound from the back of your throat.

“Pretty little tits,” he says, his voice a warm, smoky rumble that goes straight to your core. He captures your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, pinching softly.

“Fuck,” you gasp, one hand reaching out to brace yourself against his shoulder. He is solid and firm beneath your touch, unmoving and unmalleable. Your breasts have always been sensitive, but it feels like every touch is directly related to the feelings in your cunt. You find your back arching, hips searching for friction against the seat of the chair.

“Be still,” he says firmly. Another pitiful sound slips past your throat. “Let me play with you.”

“Please,” you gasp. “Play with me—even if that’s all you want—just don’t stop, please.”

His mouth parts as he listens to you, his eyes so, so dark. The pupils have nearly swallowed his irises whole, until you can see yourself bare from the waist up in the reflection. He shakes his head a little. “You don’t even know what you’re saying.”

“I do. I—“ your words are cut off with a gasp as he hauls you out of the chair by your wrist and onto his lap. He’s so thick thighed that it stretches you obscenely to have him between your legs. His hands tear the button-up off your shoulders and down your arms until it flutters to the floor, leaving you half naked. Dipping his head, he presses a heated kiss to the place on your sternum where he had rested his hand during the tattoo—and then trails wet kisses towards your left breast, taking your nipple into his mouth and sucking with a decided softness.

You let out an unflattering, choked groan, resting your weight heavily against him until you can feel the prominent bulge in his tight jeans. His hands find your ass and grip you tightly, working you back and forth, rubbing that bulge against your clothed sex.

“Driving me fucking crazy,” he mutters against your skin, opening his mouth to drag the sharp line of his teeth against the curve of one breast before switching to the other and flicking his tongue over your nipple.

You gape at his admission. Had you been? He’d been so closed off and cool…though now that you thought back, maybe that was just his way of hiding it. Suddenly he grips the back of your neck, where your hairline ends, and pulls you to his mouth. He tastes faintly of smoke, even fainter of the drinks he had had earlier in the night, but it is an intoxicating mixture. Your tongues find a rhythm as your hips do the same, both of you fucking in every sense of the word except the literal kind.

He takes one of your thighs and wedges it between his own, until you’re no longer grinding against his cock but instead his denim-clad thigh. “You the kind of girl who can cum like this? Just from this?”

“Uh-huh,” you promise, head bobbing.

He buries his face in your neck. “Good. I won’t last when I’ve got my cock in you. I’d like you to cum at least once before then.”

“Oh god,” you groan, gripping his shoulders fiercely as you begin a halting, stilted rhythm against his thigh. The denim is rough against your leggings. He feels all around you: his scent, his taste, his touch. When his hands find your hips to help you work yourself against him more smoothly, a sigh of gratitude fans from your lips.

“What else do you need?” he asks.

“My—touch me—“ He abandons your hips once you find a suitable rhythm. He finds your nipples again, teasing them with clever fingers. The stimulation has your peak approaching faster, building like a storm in your lower belly.

Ghost leans back to look at you, eyes trailing over you from head to toe: your face burning with warmth, your breasts with peaked little nipples, your leggings nearly soaked through at the crotch with how wet you are. He shakes his head, like he can’t believe what he’s seeing.

“Fucking perfect.” You bury your face in his neck, feeling a warmth inside your chest. He grips you by the neck again and tugs you back. “Look at me. Look at me.”

You look at him for as long as you can, but when the band in your belly finally snaps, your eyes roll up and slip shut, your mouth drops open in a choked gasp, nails digging into his shoulders as you shudder and shake in the throes of your pleasure.

He leans down to kiss you through it, tongue teasing at your slack mouth.

When he stands, he takes you with him, hauling you up until you wrap your shaking legs around his waist. It’s probably a good thing too. You aren’t sure you could walk otherwise. He carries you the few steps to the couch and lays you down, curling his fingers in the waistband of your leggings. You nod. He strips them off you, along with your flats, and your panties until you are naked as the day you were born.

Your thighs clamp together shyly. He lets them, reaching behind himself to pull his shirt off. Something catches your eye in the streetlights streaming in through the window: Ghost has one of his nipples pierced, a neat little barbell through the sensitive flesh.

Fingers enter your vision—your own—reaching out on instinct. You hesitate, unsure if he is receptive, and a little afraid to hurt him. He’s so bloody tall, too…but he takes care of that himself by kneeling down by your side, his eyes cautious. Closer, you can see the scars: silvery in the moonlight, crisscrossing over his torso.

“Does it hurt?” You ask, softly stroking your fingers beneath the pale pink skin of his areola.

“No,” he says. You can feel the timber of his warm voice vibrating through his chest, up your fingers, straight to your pussy. “You can play with it.”

You shyly run your thumb over it the way he had yours. He sighs, breath fanning across your arm. His eyes go heavy-lidded, tongue flashing as he wets his lips. After a moment, you grow insecure and move your hands away from his nipple down to a scar that crosses his sternum. He lets you, very patient, like a dangerous creature withholding its bite.

“You’re so—“ the words are whispered dreamily before you have any idea how you plan to finish the sentence. Flushing with embarrassed heat under his wary stare, you finish: “—hot.”

He physically turns away, expression inscrutable. You can’t help but feel like you have said the wrong thing. He puts a hand on your belly, stroking the softness. “You broken, or can you take more?”

“I want more.”

“Want my cock?”

You nod, feeling like a bobble head.

“I want to hear you say it.”

“I want your cock.”

His hand reaches for his belt, unbuckling it. Your eyes track the movement with hungry nerves. His hands put butterflies in your belly: thick palms with long, slender fingers, veins criss-crossing along the backs. An artist’s hands. He works his belt free with nimble grace and shucks down his jeans and underwear in one smooth movement, revealing his cock to your gaze and the light from the street lamps.

He is huge here to match. Downright intimidating in length and girth, uncut with a nice curve toward his belly. He grips himself and gives a series of smooth strokes, the muscles in his abdomen flexing into sharp relief.

“Oh my god,” you mutter.

“No gods here,” he says, kneeling up on the couch. His hands part your thighs, and for a long time he just looks at you, that sensitive, swollen place between your legs. He stares so long that you nearly cover your face, embarrassed by whatever he is thinking. Then he touches you, and when he does, he touches you with surprising reverence. He touches you like you are art.

“Can’t believe you let me ink you,” he mutters, stroking your vulva with his warm palm. His eyes are on the sternum piece now. “Practically let me carve my name into your skin. Anybody around here who sees it will know who did it. They’ll know who touched you.”

“Good,” you breathe.

His sigh is shaky. You’re learning his reactions, his very breaths. That shaky sigh means he’s pleased with you. You’ve said something right.

He reaches down to his jeans on the floor and works a hand into his pocket, pulling free a condom. He hands it to you—for inspection, you realize, though you’ve had so few one night stands (try zero) that you’ve never had the need to inspect a condom before. The package is intact at least. There appears to be an expiration date which you squint at. All looks well. You hand it back to him and he tears it open, rolling it down his considerable length.

Then he goes back to touching you. One hand braces himself against the back of the sofa so he can lean down to kiss you, tasting your mouth deeply. The other hand finds your entrance, circling it with a finger before slipping inside you all the way to the last knuckle. You are wet enough and relaxed enough that he slips in easily.

“Relax…there you go. Let me in,” he says under his breath, working a second finger in beside the first. It is a bit of a stretch—he’s thick everywhere goddamn it—but it’s a good stretch, a much needed one. The third finger has you stiffening, whining at the pinch of pain. He slows his fingers and lets his thumb find your clit, muting the pain with little jolts of pleasure.

“Ghost,” you groan, toes curling against the leather of the couch.

“I think you can take it,” he says, thumb so soft and insistent against that aching pearl of nerves. “But what do you think?”

“Your cock—want it—please—“

“Alright,” he laughs, pulling his fingers free and wiping the wetness on his cock. “No need to beg.”

He notches his cock against your entrance and slips inside you. Both of you inhale together, like on cue. Just the first few inches have you feeling full beyond your comfort zone, but he seems to understand in his silent, all-knowing way. He stills, working that free hand between you both to play with your clit until you’re clenching around him, body trying to pull him deeper. He slips further in and then reaches the end of what your body can take. You feel fucking stuffed, your hands shaking where you have gripped his naked shoulders, nails digging into his skin.

His own breathing is ragged, pecs brushing your nipples with every inhale. The little bursts of pleasure help, until you find that your hips have grown restless, working back and forth as much as his substantial weight will allow when you’re pinned beneath it.

“Stay still,” he mutters into the juncture of your neck. “Stay still or I’ll cum and this is all over.”

“Can’t,” you gasp, his revelation electrifying you. “Have to move, ‘m so full—“

“Fucking hell,” he groans. He pulls out, leaving you feeling gaped. “Roll onto your side.”

He gives you instruction but isn’t shy about reaching out and physically arranging you until you are both spooning, your back to his chest. This time when he enters you, it is more shallow, and easier for him to reach around and play with your clit.

You arch your back, seeking more of him, pressing your breast into his free palm. He plucks at the nipple, teeth nibbling at your throat.

“Want you to cum again,” he says, stilling your movements so that you can’t fuck your self back against him. “Give me one more. Then it’s my turn.”

“Ghost—I can’t—“ you’ve never cum twice before. Not even with your favorite toys have you been able to scrounge together more than one illustrious orgasm. This knowledge and your expectation of his disappointment has you stiffening in his arms.

“If you can’t, then don’t,” he says simply, like it’s the easiest thing in the world. He keeps his fingers soft and insistent against you, and only after a few lengthy moments does he feel confident enough to work his hips against you too. He pulls out too far and his length drags across your labia, the head brushing where his fingers play with your clit.

You give a sighing little moan. His head cocks; you aren’t the only one listening to sighs. Now when he gives those lazy, lackadaisical thrusts, his entire length just strokes the outside of your sex.

“Oh fuck,” you whine, feeling that band in your belly begin pulling tight again.

He hums behind you, a smug sound.

“Not sure I want you to cum now,” he says. “Hold it. I’m thinking it over.”

“Ghost!”

He laughs, honest to God laughs at you. Tears prick your eyes from the sheer need (and a bit from embarrassment) but his hips never cease nor slow their tireless thrusts against you, not even when you grow close enough to beg, close enough to plead.

He loops his arm around your waist and pins you against him when you cum to keep you from rolling right off the couch, your body wracked with shivers and spasms. The warmth of your release washes over you from head to toe, and you are still basking in it when his cock finds your entrance again and enters you.

The position keeps the penetration blissfully shallow (otherwise he might give your cervix a painful beating), but he still reaches new lengths inside you, filling spaces you didn’t know were empty. The shop is eerily quiet except for the sound of his hips snapping against your ass and the frequent breathy sounds his cock punches out of your lungs.

He buries his face in the crook of your neck and lets out a series of sounds that are toe-curling: deep groans and raspy curses, whispered praise and hisses through his teeth. His hand grips your hip tightly, leaving shadows the shape of his fingerprints on your skin as he fucks you.

Sooner than you’d like—but he’d warned you, hadn’t he?—his thrusts grow sloppy, the sounds messy thanks to your wetness as he finds his release and moans it into the skin of your throat.

“Fuck,” he whispers. And again: “Fuck, fuck. You broken?”

“Yes.”

He snorts. Then it turns into that laughter, warm and rumbling against your back. You smile where he can’t see.

“Sorry about this,” he says as he ties the condom off and throws it away, naked as the day he was born. You’re still naked too, though much more shy, legs crossed demurely and arms wrapped around yourself.

“Regretting it already?”

“Yes,” he says. Then, when he sees the stricken look on your face, he adds: “Should have at least taken you to dinner first.”

“Dinner?”

“You owe me drinks. I owe you dinner.” He finds his boxers in the darkness and slips back into them. Then, because the expression on your face still hasn’t relaxed, he says: “I don’t regret the sex. Do you?”

You shake your head.

He scoffs a little.

“I mean it,” you insist. You touch your tattoo. “I wanted it…the day you did—this.”

He raises both brows at you, silently calling your bluff.

“I didn’t think you were interested,” you admitted sheepishly.

“I jerked off in the back just from seeing half your tits,” he admits, slipping into his jeans now too. His mouth curls a little at the corner when he sees the way you gape at this news. “I was interested.”

You laugh; you can’t help it. “Dinner, then? Or drinks?”

“Yeah,” he says. “Alright. Get dressed.”

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #skin deep

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5sospenguinqueen · 3 months ago

Text

But I Love Him - Oscar Piastri x Reader

Summary: Oscar Piastri’s girlfriend is Danny Ric’s biggest fan. When Oscar announces he’s signing for McLaren, she’s not sure how to react.

Warnings: Fluff. Crack fic

Only a small one. Inspired by Nicole Piastri’s hilarious podcast appearance. Did I push back my scheduled posts in favour of this sudden smau? Yes

20233-2023 season

F1 Masterlist

━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━

2021

mclaren just posted

liked by yn_ln, landonorris and others

mclaren what a race 🏆 an amazing drive from our honey badger

10,333 comments

landonorris great race, mate

yn_ln that’s my driver!

→ oscarpiastri love you too

→ yn_ln shush, daniel might see this and then think we’re dating

→ oscarpiastri we are dating

→ yn_ln you’re ruining my chances

markwebber skills

→ yn_ln lovely, wonderful, talented mark. fancy spoiling a girl and getting her danny ric merch?

→ oscarpiastri you don’t talk like that to me

→ yn_ln because i have to deal with you leaving your wet towels on the bed

→ yn_ln plus all your merch is alpine

→ user1 she's so real for that tho

━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━

2022

yn_ln welp, there go my chances of meeting danny ric if you’re not going to be an f1 driver

→ danielricciardo i’m sure we’ll both be in aus at the same time in the future ;)

→ yn_ln omg he talked to me. oscar, he talked to me!

→ oscarpiastri yup, i can see that

→ yn_ln why don’t you care?!

logansargeant that’s one way to break the news

→ yn_ln he’s so dramatic isn’t he

→ user2 why is oscar still with her? she’s so mean to him

→ user3 it's called banter. try it some time, babe

aussiegrit never a dull day with you

→ yn_ln at least you get to hear about this beforehand. the alpine announcement shook me

→ oscarpiastri um, it shook me too?

→ yn_ln do you need me to stroke your hair again?

→ aussiegrit @/yn_ln you're no better

nicolepiastri your girlfriend is distraught that you didn’t consult her before being a drama queen. i raised you better than this

→ yn_ln 🤍🤍

→ oscarpiastri beaten for #1 child by my own girlfriend

oscarpiastri just posted

liked by yn_ln, logansargeant and others

oscarpiastri it’s official

6,981 comments

yn_ln but i love daniel…

→ oscarpiastri i know. everyone does

→ yn_ln but i love him the most

→ oscarpiastri i know

→ user4 bit weird that you’re not congratulating him

fernandoalo_official amazing news. can’t wait to see you on track

user5 mclaren are so messy for using an alpine pic

user6 okay but hello mr piastri. i was not familiar with your game

→ user7 yn saw the vision when she fell for him years ago

→ yn_ln c’mon guys, he was cute before

→ oscarpiastri i’m still cute now!

→ yn_ln no, now you’re hot

→ oscarpiastri oh 🤭

→ landonorris fuck me, is this what i have to deal with now?

→ logansargeant yes

→ arthur_leclerc yes

→ frederikvestiofficial yes

━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━

2023

yn_ln just posted

liked by oscarpiastri, frederikvestiofficial and others

yn_ln hubby’s first f1 race weekend (but more importantly, i met THE daniel ricciardo. and he was wearing his best colours)

3,813 comments

oscarpiastri i thought this was going to be a really sweet post and then

→ landonorris i actually watched his smile fall

→ yn_ln he’s in love with you now. it’s your responsibility to brush his hair and promise him he’s special

→ oscarpiastri between you and my mother, i don’t think i’ll ever have a comfortable day on the internet

danielricciardo i took really nice photos with you, and you post this one?

→ yn_ln please don’t be mad at me. i cry easily

oscarpiastri it’s bad enough that the world knows daniel is your favourite driver. can you at least pretend mclaren is your favourite team?

→ yn_ln go papaya!

→ yn_ln love you, pookie

→ oscarpiastri love you too, sweetheart

→ user8 the fact that no matter how hard she bullies him, he can never NOT say i love you back

aussiegrit proud of our boy

→ yn_ln me too!

→ oscarpiastri say it to my face, you coward

→ user9 how is oscar so sweet and introverted in interviews but then we see him like this on his girlfriend’s insta

→ oscarpiastri she brings out the demon in me

danielricciardo just posted

liked by landonorris, maxverstappen1 and others

danielricciardo stole my seat so i stole your girl tagged: oscarpiastri, yn_ln

4,303 comments

arthur_leclerc i bet he’s crying in his driver’s room

logansargeant i joked about stealing her once and he hit me with a wrench

frederikvestiofficial i made her laugh once and he bit me

landonorris @/mclaren are you seeing this? i think i want a new teammate

user10 pr are screaming

→ user11 they do anytime yn comments on things

oscarpiastri keep her

→ yn_ln oi!

→ yn_ln i mean… he did give you permission

→ logansargeant where was this treatment for us?

→ oscarpiastri i’m fed up of her now. i still had hope back then

maxverstappen1 i thought we were forever

→ yn_ln you can’t beat my devotion to him

→ maxverstappen1 no but i can beat your devotion to your boyfriend

→ yn_ln eh

oscarpiastri just posted

liked by arthur_leclerc, aussiegrit and others

oscarpiastri she loves me really

4,811 comments

yn_ln my whole 💕

→ oscarpiastri i love you lots

→ yn_ln you know you’re my favourite guy forever

landonorris can confirm that they are disgustingly in love around the paddock

→ yn_ln you’re just jealous because you keep trying to steal him

danielricciardo i was stood next to them once and she didn’t even glance at me because oscar was making her laugh

→ nicolepiastri he’s not even funny

→ yn_ln don’t say these things. you’ll ruin my reputation as danny ric stan #1

user12 he’s not beating the orange cat allegations

→ user13 not with all the comments over the years of her stroking his hair to make him feel better

logansargeant bro relax. no one’s going to take her from you

→ oscarpiastri daniel’s rejoined red bull. her favourite driver is back with her favourite team. i have to stake my claim

→ yn_ln when he gets possessive 😍

→ arthur_leclerc 🤮🤮

frederikvestiofficial i thought not being in f1 meant i could escape this. get it off my fyp

3K notes · View notes

fuckmymunson · 6 months ago

Text

Confidential. — Eddie Munson.

☆ 18+, smut, lowkey hate sex, fingering. | word count: 1.2k

☆ my montly post ;) or maybe I'll find more inspo soon.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

“Can you leave me alone for five fucking seconds?”

“For what? So you can keep talking shit behind my back?” He asks back, crossing his arms. Leaning against the dirty bathroom wall, Eddie stares at you with a cocky smirk. He isn’t usually this confident, not around you at least.

“I don’t want the whole school to think I’m your fucking groupie, dude. Just leave me alone,” You bite back. You wish you could erase that smirk on his face. The anger is bubbling up your throat, burning your insides. “Just because I’m the only one who lets you get your dick wet, it doesn’t mean you can go around bragging about it.”

“Why wouldn’t I be bragging about it?” Eddie laughs, he has the audacity to laugh. “Don’t you think it would be a juicy conversation topic? You, little miss perfect, fucking the freak?”

“Shut the fuck up. Seriously— or I promise you I will beat the shit out of you.”

“Jesus, you kiss your mother with that mouth, sweetheart?” He mocks you again, again. Eddie is really testing your patience. Lowering his arms, he steps closer, his heavy boots tapping on the greasy linoleum. “I think we both know you look better with your pretty lips wrapped around my cock rather than talking shit.”

“Fuck you. Literally. I don’t even know why I agreed to this,” Done with this conversation that will surely lead to nothing, you grab the doorknob. “You talk a lot of shit when we are alone, but you are such a pussy when people bully you. Just say you don’t have the balls to man up.”

“Man up?” Eddie takes another step. He is willing to chase you if you dare to open that door. “Oh, sweetheart. You know what kind of man I am. The man who can actually make you come, not like those preppy fuckers that share you.”

Your head whips at his words. He couldn’t have possibly said that. Perhaps you are having a stroke. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me, cutie. The same whores you talk shit with, talk shit about you too— behind your back, I might add,” His hand takes yours, gently removing it from the doorknob. Eddie bites back a laugh when he sees your expression, how could you be so oblivious? “Haven’t you noticed? Or are you that stupid?”

Shaking your head, you push him— or try to, at least— the action surprises him, but he doesn’t move an inch. Eddie quickly wraps an arm around your waist, pushing you against the wall. He knows what you need, wherever and whenever, he knows what you want. Your hatred has no fundament, you are just a dumb sheep that follows the horde, but he can’t blame you; there’s the need to fit… and there’s the need you can’t escape from no matter what.

“Come on, you know you don’t want to break our little deal,” He whispers.

“Let go of me,” You choke. “You are lying. They are my friends—”

“You know what they say, sometimes your enemies live in your own home,” Nobody says that, Eddie is just making it up to play with your newfound insecurity. “Perhaps you are a freak, just like me.”

Smashing his lips against yours, your hands grope his shoulders. The logical thing would be to push him, to yell and run, but you can’t. Whatever he has, is drowning you. Eddie can make you see stars, and the problem is that he is the only one. A thing that happened by a stupid mistake occasioned by the stupid join you agreed is now escalating and threatening to ruin your reputation— he knows that. You know that. Outside he is no one, but when you two are alone, he makes you feel like you are no one.

“You talk so damn much,” Your words are weak when his lips reach your neck, when his hands slide underneath your skirt. “I hate you.”

“I hate you too, pretty girl.”

Lifting one leg to wrap it around his hip, you bite your lower lip when his thumb traces the outline of your folds, rubbing the fabric of your panties against you. Keeping you steady with his free hand on your waist, Eddie bites down on your neck, relishing on the sweet cry that escapes your lips. He is so close he can smell your perfume, of course is the one he has been seeing advertised on TV. You fight so much to be perfect that it breaks you how pathetic your yearning is. He quickly finds your clit— now this is true, you know what they say… practice makes perfect— circling it slowly.

“You want to keep it so low, yet the only thing you keep low is your voice when I fuck you in your bedroom,” He taunts you. He hits you in your weakest spots. “Just accept it, I’m your escape— I don’t mind. As long as you are honest.”

“Fuck you,” You spit, buckling your hips when he pushes your underwear to the side. It is an endless battle, not only with him, but with yourself.

With a sigh, Eddie shakes his head, his curly hair bouncing softly. “As you wish, sweetheart.”

Sliding a finger, his cold rings make you gasp. He never takes them off, not even when he fucks you. Eddie says it makes him look cool, you say it makes him look idiotic— and you maintain that thought, even when he is adding a second finger and curling it, rubbing your tight walls slowly. Moaning louder, you clasp a hand over your mouth, if someone finds you, God, you’d be ruined; he, on the other hand, has other plans. Thrusting his digits slowly, Eddie groans lowly every time he feels you tightening. The moans you fight so hard to swallow are a confidence boost, and right now? He wants to hear them all.

“Take that hand off your mouth or I swear I will leave you here,” His threat makes you shudder. What games is he playing? “I’m being serious.”

Reluctantly, you agree. The smile that appears on his cheeky face shouldn’t be as pretty as it is. Now you are sure he is toying with you— yet you can’t be mad about it. Not when he is speeding up, not when he is nibbling on your neck, not when you can feel his erection grinding against your thigh. Being finger–fucked by the town’s freak is already embarrassing enough, so naturally, orgasming so quickly would be even more embarrassing.

“Why do you fight it?” Removing his fingers, Eddie clicks his tongue when you protest. “I could fuck you every day if you weren’t such a bitch,” Yanking your underwear down, he pushes you harder against the wall, spitting on his fingers and returning them to his favorite place. Your pussy greets them back greedily, squeezing his digits and wetting them until you are not sure if it’s dripping down his wrist. “At least I know one part of you actually likes me.”

“Shut up— Shut up,” you repeat over and over, keeping your eyes shut. Your moans flow freely now, urging him to continue. Eddie loves how pliant he can get you, how just a little pleasure gets you this dumb. “Fuck— don’t stop, please.” There it is, what he has been dying to hear.

“I wouldn't dream of, princess.”

#☆ anya writes!#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x yn #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson fic #stranger things fic

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charmedreincarnation · 2 months ago

Note

I shifted and manifested with your Morphics challenge !!!!!

I am sharing this on an alternate account because I don’t feel comfortable posting on my main account. I want to continue using my main account so, I hope that’s okay.

I’ve been in the LOA community for a while and have consumed every piece of information. You know how it is.. I had a Reddit and TikTok shifting account and was literally helping people shift with my advice. But aside from maybe slightly hearing or seeing my DR, I had never succeeded, and even that was years ago.

I’ve gotten lazier yet more somehow ambitious since 2020 when I first started this journey, which is insane because you know how when you first find out about shifting, you have a lot of symptoms and almost do it, but then months and years pass, and you’re more desperate yet doing the same useless things. It was like that. I was enlightened; I could spew every method to you backwards, studied many years from teachers like Neville Goddard, Joseph Murphy, Florence Scovel Shinn, Wayne Dyer, Earl Nightingale, Louise Hay, Esther Hicks (Abraham-Hicks), Albert Einstein, Thomas Edison, Ralph Waldo Emerson, Wallace D. Wattles, Rhonda Byrne—okay, everyone and their teachers. I also spent so much money on paid subliminals, meditations, teacher personal subscriptions, witch spells, lucid dreaming supplements, etc., but there are some things money can’t buy, so really, don’t waste your money lol.

I’m not here to be wise and do nothing with that wisdom, so I realized maybe instead of trying to do everything so mighty and intricate and be pretentious in my intelligence, let me try something so simple I would be shocked if it worked. Then I came across a post that was like, "Everyone is going to shift in September," and I almost cried because I have been trying for almost 5 years. I’ve given everything, and I was starting to think LOA is a cult because, let��s be real, it checks off all the things of a cult:

1. Charismatic Leaders: Many LOA teachings are popularized by charismatic figures who attract devoted followings, similar to leaders in cults.

2. Promised Benefits: LOA often promises significant personal benefits, like wealth and happiness, which can be enticing and lead to strong adherence.

3. Community and Belonging: Followers of LOA often form tight-knit communities, sharing experiences and supporting each other, which can resemble the communal aspect of cults.

4. Us vs. Them Mentality: Some LOA teachings might create a divide between "believers" and "non-believers," fostering an exclusive mindset.

5. Simplistic Solutions: The idea that simply thinking positively can solve complex life issues might be seen as an oversimplification, similar to some cult ideologies.

It’s almost religious, but most people are religious, and you know what? Without faith in something, people might have probably just (TW) killed themselves. Everyone has some kind of cult behavior—religious, politics, loyalty to family who don’t love or respect them. At this point, if it was a cult, I guess I was okay with that. Hopefully, the belief would at least give some sort of false comfort. Because having awareness and enlightenment and still suffering is even worse. Ignorance is bliss, as they say.

Then I came across your challenge, and tbh I had tried every subliminal, meditation, binaural beat, etc., so at first, I thought, how will this be any different? But then I saw the LOA Bella success story, and I just felt this was my calling because I had never related to a success story so much. I wanted to cry because it felt like a sign.

This isn’t a very exciting or good story, but all I did was:

Morning https://youtu.be/gOpZAPo8VvU?si=FA2oxWQkR6l2KU_M

During the day (together) https://youtu.be/67T-wX2iqfM?si=-f-TvsYyQ_D-od1L https://youtu.be/xwaSBZFucGg?si=8-XLLROuoIypBSu0

Overnight https://youtu.be/uBHMmHbQwa0?si=h01rp0Ngdl7Xhv9C

Basically I had a lucid dream and woke up in my waiting room because I had used lucid dreams to get into the void state, but they were also fake voids, and it was annoying to think, "Wow, I’m going to wake up with my dream life," and then fail. So I was taking no chances. I had a dream I was at work, and this lazy girl was being lazy as usual but an actual nuisance. We were outside, and I was like, "Wait, I don’t work outside," and then I got too excited, so I started jumping around and did a backflip because I heard that helps stabilize the dream. Then I commanded my annoying coworker to take me to a portal, and she did. I envisioned my waiting room and set the intention that when I close my eyes and enter the portal, I would wake up in my WR. I walked through, and then I fell. I was scared to open my eyes, so I affirmed just in case as I fell, and I heard the beach waves, and I knew it was there.

I only did this for manifesting purposes because then I intended to shift back to the same reality but where I had my dream life and master shifting abilities and void ability.

Honestly, I was so depressed at that point I didn’t particularly have any dreams or aspirations, so I didn’t know what would make me happy, as sad as it sounds. But I just slid into my WR bed and set the intention because I knew anything is possible in my WR and fell asleep. When I woke up, I woke up in a brand new house with a brand new family in a beautiful room.

Now, like I said, I didn’t have any intentions, so for the last few days, I’ve been having so many surprises and things happening that I now realize, of course, I would want this. I am just very happy, and I can’t believe it was so easy after almost 4 years.

I don’t have any stupid enlightenment advice that I would have thought I would have when I finally succeeded. As stupid and cult-like as it sounds, don’t give up—something will click.

That's amazing! I'm so happy for you and your success :)) and I am even more happy that you’ve found happiness when you don’t even know what you wantedand that it worked out.

I had a very similar experience and what I took from this is to be open to experimenting with different methods because what might not work today could be the key tomorrow and it can seem random.

I wish you the best with your dream life and I hope you continue to find happiness in different ways

#law of assumption #manifesation #void state #reality shifting #shiftblr #void success

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papercorgiworld · 10 months ago

Text

Sleeping with a prefect

Mattheo Riddle imagine

Mattheo flirts with you because of your status as a prefect. However, you aren’t the only one falling in love. Fluff, smut, dramatics and you get to pick your ending sweet or smutty.

Warning: sweet smut

Picture source: https://pin.it/7BiTOcrKF

A/N: I planned to post something else but at the last moment I didn’t like it anymore, so I decided to finish this instead. I really hope it’s somewhat good. English is not my first language so be sure to feedback me if you spot any errors.

The notorious slytherins had come up with a new scheme to avoid detention. A little game called flirt with the prefect. They all had their appointed prefect that they had to woo, so when they would run into said prefect any consequences could be flirted or kissed away.

You were surprised when Mattheo Riddle suddenly showed interest in you. Part of you knew that it was suspicious, but Mattheo was charming and incredibly handsome. So, he had you wooed in no time. You would blush and smile at everything he said to you and when he did small things for you like hold a door or carry your books, you would bite your lip and avoid his gaze. You had fallen for him, so bad, and he knew, so well.

The flirting had been going on for weeks and so far they hadn’t run into you during prefect patrol. That was until tonight. You heard laughter in the distance and quietly made your way to the dark hallway from which the noise came. When you see the group of slytherins you immediately start to blush, knowing very well who’s amongst them. “This is at least a week's detention.” You speak up calmly and give the group a little jump scare. Mattheo’s eyes lock with yours and you smile. This is going to be easy. “Oh come on, love, why don’t you join us?” Mattheo asks cheerfully. For a moment you drown in his eyes, but you manage to snap out of it. “Nice try, but how about you all join Mcgonagoll in her office.” “Oh come on, (y/n), Matt has been wanting to introduce you to us for weeks.” Blaise pushes, giving you a bright smile. They all see you light up at the idea of being special to Mattheo. “Okay, guys we’re passed curfew, let’s just leave.” Mattheo says as he walks over to you with a playful smile.

Mattheo hanging with his friends, up to no good.

“No, you know I’m supposed to guide you to professor-“ You fall silent when Mattheo wraps his arm around you, his hand resting on the small of your back. You rest your hand on his chest in an attempt to keep a little distance. “Isn’t it just a few more minutes before your shift ends?” He asks his eyes never leaving yours. You see his friends leaving out of the corner of your eyes, their laughter makes you feel anxious and insecure. “Hey, let me keep you company.” Mattheo suggests dragging your attention away from his snickering friends. You nod and his hand slips away from you back to hold your hand. You walk around together for a few more minutes and then you check in with Mcgonagall, when you leave her office Mattheo is waiting for you around the corner. Even though he had promised you, you were still a little surprised he was there.

He walked you to your prefect bedroom. “Thanks for walking me to my room.” You sound more nervous than you had anticipated. Mattheo’s lips form an adoring smile and his arm snakes around your waist again. “Thanks for letting me and my dumb ass friends of the hook.” You shake your head. “Don’t get used to it, it was a one time thing, Mattheo.” Your face heats up as you notice he’s gently leaning in. “I promise this isn’t going to be a one time thing.” He says seductively before brushing his soft lips over yours and kissing you with surprising softness. When you break the kiss he lets his forehead rest on yours and watches your face. You looked dreamy, mostly because you had been dreaming of this moment for weeks. Mattheo gives you a soft peck on the lips before letting go of you. As soon as his arm leaves you, you're in desperate need for his warmth again.

“Wanna come in?” You ask pointing at your bedroom door in an attempt to win his warmth back. He stares at you with shiny eyes. This was taking the game too far but he also really wanted you. “Chances are I might never wanna leave.” And with those words it was like he owned you. He made you feel so wanted and loved. That’s probably why it only took a few seconds for him to be on top of you.

Mattheo had almost tackled you into your bed. One of your hands roamed his chest, while your other mercilessly messed up his hair. Mattheo on the other hand had a firm grip on your ass but was mostly interested in kissing you like his life depended on it. You rolled so you were on top and gave him a fiery kiss before sitting up and taking off your shirt. Mattheo watched you with starry eyes and pushed himself up to kiss you. He quickly moved to your neck and shoulder, while you worked on unbuttoning his shirt. Once a few buttons were undone, he just pulled it over his head and you both fell back on the bed again.

After some sloppy kisses you pull away from him and sit up again, your hand traces down to his pants. Mattheo’s eyes already roll to the back of his head at the idea of your touch. You make quick work of his belt and he is eager to help you lower his pants. Mattheo lets out a soft growl as you grip his shaft tightly, your thumb playing with his tip. He closes his eyes as you start pumping his hard cock. However, after a moment his eyes fling back open as he feels your mouth wrap around him. “Fuck, (y/n).” He watches you as you try to take in as much of him as you can. He lets out a few pleased moans and his fingers softly tangle in your hair. Mattheo bites his lip, his eyes glued to your head bobbing on his cock. “You’re being too good for me.” He pants and he closes his eyes again. You swirl your tongue on his dick swallowing his precum. “Okay, that’s it, love.” He suddenly snaps and tugs your hair. You’re a bit surprised for a moment, thinking you’ve done something wrong, but when his lips crash into yours you stop worrying.

“Good girls like you deserve to be taken care of.” Mattheo breaths as he kisses you with passion. He unclasps your bra and in a matter of moments you’re underneath him. He cups and squeezes one of your breasts while his tongue plays with your nipple, circling around it. When both your nipples are perked and covered in his saliva he moves down to your skirt. Now that you’re fully naked he takes in your entire body. “I’m gonna have your pretty cunt beg for me.” Like it wasn’t already. His fingers work tauntingly slow, teasing your folds before pushing in. When you arch your back and buck your hips wanting more of his fingers he leans down to let his lips brush over yours and then moves down to your chest. Your moans turn into whimpers and it encourages him to play with your clit even more, letting his fingers work at a rough pace. “Please. I need you.” You manage to utter. “No no, love, I need you to be absolutely soaking wet for me.” You wimper. “I am. I need-Riddle please.” You beg. “Am I still just Riddle to you. I am clearly doing something wrong.” He says playfully and pulls his fingers away.

His mouth moves from your boobs to your pussy. He eagerly starts eating you out. “Mattheo please.” You beg him as his mouth fucks you, but he’s clearly not pleased with your answer and just grabs a hold of your hips so his tongue can sink in deeper. You feel yourself climaxing. “Matty.” You cry out as you feel your entire body tense. Satisfied that you’re this close Mattheo pulls away adoring the mess he has turned you into. He spreads your legs so he can align his cock with your glinstering cunt. “I’m gonna move in slowly, but I’m going to fuck you so hard.” You can hear how turned on he is by the tone of his voice. His with cum soaked dick easily enters your wet pussy. You still feel stretched and full when he’s inside and your hands push on his chest signaling that he needs to give you a little time to adjust. He lets his cock rest inside you and takes this moment to treat you with soft kisses.

When you wrap your legs around him he starts moving into you softly, but as soon as he realizes you can handle more he’s pounding into you. The pace at which he’s thrusting and his sweaty panting body above you has you feeling feelings you hadn’t felt before. “Rid-Matty.” He looks at you with an amused smile, but there’s something dark in his eyes. “If you call me by my last name like I’m some stranger I’ll pull out and leave you like the mess you are.” You nod with innocent eyes, turning him on even more. Merlin, you're making him go feral. He grabs your hips and slams into you. You grab a hold of your pillow, partially hiding your face as your orgasm washes over you, shaking and moaning underneath him. “(Y/n), you are so beautiful, please don’t hide from me, (y/n).” It came out way more pleading than intended, but Mattheo was so close and his dominant side really needed to see you, all of you. Seeing your pretty and flustered face had him spilling his seed into you.

After that he helped you clean up and put on your pajamas. You helped him find his boxers among the scattered clothes in your room. He didn’t intend to stay the night but his orgasm had drained his energy and you looked so comfortable to snuggle with. It ended up being a night of switching between being the big and little spoon. However, the morning after was so warm and safe that the both of you stayed in too long, having to rush to get ready for class.

***

Mattheo had forgotten his jacket so as soon as you’re ready you go look for him. You spot him rushing towards his friends who’re standing at the entrance of the great hall. “You went out of your way to get us out of detention.” You hear Blaise say as he pats Mattheo’s shoulder. “You seriously slept with her. I mean flirting with prefects is one thing but sleeping with them.” Draco ads before Mattheo can say anything. “Guys, guys.” Theodore suddenly hushes everyone as he points his head, making Mattheo turn around to see you standing there with teary eyes holding his jacket. “You forgot this, Riddle.” You say with a shaky voice as you reach to give him his jacket back. Mattheo’s head tilts and his lips part, he wants to say something, but no words come. He reaches for you, but you just push his jacket into his arms. “(Y/n), what you heard wasn’t true.” Mattheo tries to explain but you let out an angry half laugh. “You don’t need to explain. I get it you whored yourself out of detention. I hope you’re real proud of yourself.” You say it loud enough for some people to catch on. You quickly walk away and Mattheo shuts his eyes, cursing himself.

Mattheo turning around and seeing you.

***

“Pans, can you pass me those mashed potatoes?” Mattheo asks as he points towards a bowl near her. “Depends, I hear you are willing to do a lot to get what you want, mister manwhore.” Pansy and her friends snicker and Mattheo just gets up leaving his food for what it is. “That sensitive?” Pansy quirks an eyebrow. “(Y/n) quit as prefect and skipped every class today.” Theo explains. “So? What did Matt expect?” Theo sighs. “Apparently, without any of us noticing, Riddle… kind of… fell in love with (y/n).” Pansy’s eyes widened. “No way!”

***

Mattheo had been searching for you the entire day so when he finally spots you walking alone after dinner he rushes towards you. As he’s fast walking in your direction, he feels his anger build up. Anger mainly directed towards himself, but also towards you for not giving him a chance to explain. So when he gets a hold of you he shoves you against a wall. His arms rest on the wall on either side of you locking you in and his angry eyes scare you. “You’re going to listen to me.” He demands and you try to push him aside but it’s pointless. “I didn’t whore my way out of detention. I fucked you because I wanted to! Because I want you. Because I’m fucking falling for you.” When he sees your face soften up after hearing his confession, he calms down and cups your cheek. “I know I screwed up, but you have to give me a chance.” Mattheo’s eyes are desperate and his voice is pleading.

The ‘give me a chance, I need you’ look.

“You played me. You flirted with me because I was a prefect.” Mattheo’s heart aches as he sees your eyes getting teary. “That doesn’t matter anymore. This, me begging for you to give me a chance, is real.” There’s still doubt in your eyes, but Mattheo wants you. He can’t stand the idea of not having you, especially after getting to enjoy your warmth and love the night before. His fear of losing you peaks, making him clench his jaw. “I want you!! I’ll make you (y/n) Riddle. I’ll make you the mother of my children. Fuck! You want me, (y/n), and you have me.” His voice is filled with harsh desperation, with a clear hint of regret and anger. “I’ve never felt this way before.”

Sweet ending:

Your eyes fall down to the floor and you stare at your feet, not knowing what to think of his words. Mattheo falls silent and drops his arms, giving you space to move away if you wish. His entire body tenses to keep himself from falling apart as he sees your fidgeting fingers. He slowly reaches for your hands, taking them in his and drawing circles on the back of your hand. That you allowed him to do that gave him courage to speak up again with a soft voice. “(Y/n), I-” You interrupt him by squeezing his hand and your eyes lock. “I’ve never felt this way before either. That’s why I’m so scared to get hurt.” You admit with a shaky voice and watering eyes. Mattheo presses his head against yours. “I’m so sorry.” He whispers with a heart gripping honesty.

Slowly your head moves to lay on his shoulder and Mattheo finally finds peace now that he can wrap his arms around you again. “I’m sorry I said that you whored your way out of detention.” You whisper with your head still resting on him. You hear Mattheo softly chuckle and he leans his head against yours. “You don’t have to apologize, honestly, you should’ve said worse. I know I deserve it.” You lift your head to say something, but decide no words can explain what you’re feeling. So you cup his cheek and bring your lips to his.

Smutty ending:

Your silence makes him panic. If he can’t convince you with words, actions might do the trick. He pushes you into a nearby empty classroom. He falls to his knees. “You don’t want to believe me, I’ll make you believe me.” He snarls as he pulls your panties down with a harsh tugg. He immediately diggs in and you let him, reaching for his curls as you buck your hips so his tongue is where you want it. He was going to fuck you with his mouth, fingers and cock until you were his.

Word count: 2645

#slytherin #slytherin boys #mattheo riddle imagine #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle #papercorgiworldwritings

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anim-ttrpgs · 8 months ago

Text

Help Save the World of TTRPGs and Their Creators.

Okay I’m being a little dramatic, but at the same time I’m pretty serious. This is a call to action, and the livelihoods of myself and lots of other people, many of them (like myself) disabled, are depending on it. This is a post about why, what you can do about it, and (perhaps least often answered) how.

This post is actually an accompaniment to another discussion by someone else. If you don’t want to listen to a 90-minute in-depth discussion of much of what I’m about to tell you, you can just keep reading. Otherwise, click here or here and listen to this either before or after you read this post. (They’re the same thing, just different sources.)

If you have ever made or reblogged posts urging people to switch from Google Chrome to Firefox, you should be willing to at least give a try to other TTRPGs besides D&D5e for much the same principle reasons. I’m not telling you you have to hate D&D5e, and I’m not telling you you have to quit D&D5e, I’m just asking you to try some other games. If you don’t like them, and you really want to go back to D&D5e, then go back to D&D5e. But how can you really know you won’t like other games if you have literally never tried them? This post is a post about why and how to try them. If you’re thinking right now that you don’t want to try them, I urge you to look below to see if any of your reasons for not wanting to try them are covered there. Because the monopoly that WotC’s D&D5e has on TTRPGs as a whole is bad for me as a game designer, and it’s bad for you as a game player. It’s even bad for you if you like D&D5e. A fuller discussion of the why and how this is the case can be found in the links above, but it isn’t fully necessary for understanding this post, it’ll just give you a better perspective on it.

If you’re a D&D5e player, I’m sure at some point or another, you’ve been told “play a different game”, and it must get frustrating without the context of why and how. This post is here to give you the why and how.

[The following paragraph has been edited because the original wording made it sound like we think all weird TTRPGs suck.]

Before that though, one more thing to get out of the way. I'm going to level with you. There’s a lot of weird games out there.

You are gonna see a lot of weird TTRPGs when you take the plunge. Many of them try to completely reinvent what a TTRPG even is, and some fail spectacularly, others really do even up doing something very interesting even if they don't end up being what a core TTRPG player wants. But not every indie RPG is a Bladefish, lots and lots of them are more 'traditional' and will feel very familiar to you, I promise. (And you might even find that you like the weird experimental bladefish type ones, these are usually ideal for one-session plays when your usual group can't play your usual game for any reason.)

You're also going to probably see a lot of very bad games, and man have I got some stories of very bad games, but for now I'm just saying to make sure you read the reviews, or go through curators (several of which will be listed below), before you buy.

Now that that is out of the way, I’m going to go down a list of concerns you may have for why not, and then explain the how.

“I don’t want to learn a whole new set of rules after I already spent so much time learning D&D5e.”

Learning a new set of rules is not going to be as hard as you think. Most other TTRPGs aren’t like that. D&D5e is far on the high end of the scale for TTRPGs being hard and time-consuming to learn and play. If you’ve only played D&D5e, it might trick you into thinking that learning any TTRPG is an overwhelmingly time-consuming task, but this is really mostly a D&D5e problem, not a TTRPG problem as a whole.

“D&D5e has all of these extra online tools to help you play it.”

So what? People have been playing TTRPGs without the help of computers for 50 years. To play a well-designed TTRPG you won’t need a computer. Yes, even if you're bad at math. There are some TTRPGs out there that barely even use math.

“I’m too invested in the narrative and characters of my group’s current ongoing D&D5e campaign to switch to something else.”

There are other games, with better design made by better people for less money, that are the same kind of game as D&D5e, that your current characters, lore, and plot will fit right into and do it better. And no, it's not just Pathfinder, there's others.

“I can’t afford to play another TTRPG.”

You probably can. If you’ve only played D&D5e, you might have been made to think that TTRPGs are a very expensive hobby. They aren’t. D&D5e is actually uniquely expensive, costing more than 3x more than the next most expensive TTRPG I can think of right now. Even on the more expensive end, other TTRPG books will cost you no more than $60, most will cost you less than $20, and a whole lot of them are just free. If you somehow still can’t afford another TTRPG, come to the A.N.I.M. TTRPG Book club mentioned below, nominate the game, and if it wins the vote we will straight up buy it for you.

(By the way, if you had any of the above concerns about trying other games besides D&D5e, that really makes it sound like you are in a textbook abusive relationship with D&D5e. This is how abusers control their partners, and how empires control their citizens, by teaching you to think that nothing could ever get any better, and even though they treat you bad, the Other will treat you even worse.)

“If I don’t play D&D5e, which TTRPG should I play?”

That’s a pretty limited question to be asking, because there will be no one TTRPG for everything. And no, D&D5e is not the one TTRPG for everything, Hasbro’s marketing team is just lying to you. (Pathfinder and PbtA are not the one system for everything either!) Do you only play one video game or only watch one movie or only read one book? When you finish watching an action movie like Mad Max, and then you want to watch a horror movie, do you just rewind Mad Max and watch it over again but this time you act scared the whole time? No, you watch a different movie. I’m asking you to give the artistic medium of TTRPGs the same respect you would give movies.

“I want to play something besides D&D5e, but my friends won’t play anything else!”

I have several answers to this.

Try showing them this post.

If that doesn’t work: Make them. Put your foot down. This works especially well if you are the DM. Tell them you won’t run another session of D&D5e until they agree to give what you want to do at least one try instead of always doing only what they want to do. This is, like, playing 101. We learned this in kindergarten. If your friend really wants to play something else, you should give their game a try, or you’re not really being a very good friend.

If that doesn’t work, find another group. This doesn’t even mean that you have to leave your existing group. A good place to start would be the A.N.I.M. TTRPG Book Club which will be mentioned and linked below. You can also go to the subreddit of any game you’re interested in and probably meet people there who have the same problem you do and want to put together a group to play something other than D&D5e. You might get along great with these people, you might not, but you won’t know until you try. Just make sure to have a robust “session zero” so everyone is on the same page. This is a good practice for any group but it is especially important for a group made of players you’ve just met.

“I only watch actual plays.”

Then watch actual plays of games that aren’t D&D5e. These podcasts struggle for the same reasons that indie RPGs struggle, because of the brand recognition and brand loyalty D&D5e has, despite their merit. I don’t watch actual plays, or else I would be able to list more of them. So, anyone who does watch actual plays, please help me out by commenting on this post with some non-D&D5e actual plays you like. And please do me a favor and don’t list actual plays that only play one non-D&D5e system, list ones that go through a variety of systems. The first one I can think of is Tiny Table.

“I can just homebrew away all the problems with D&D5e.”

Even though I want to, I’m not going to try and argue that you can’t actually homebrew away all the problems with D&D5e. Instead, I’m going to ask you why you’re buying two $50 rulebooks just to throw away half the pages. In most other good RPGs, you don’t need to change the rules to make them fun, they’re fun right out the box.

“But homebrewing D&D5e into any kind of game is fun! You can homebrew anything out of D&D5e!”

Firstly, I promise that this is not unique to D&D5e. Secondly, then you would probably have more fun homebrewing a system that gives you a better starting point for reaching your goal. Also, what if I told you that there are entire RPG systems out there that are made just for this? There are RPG systems that were designed for the purpose of being a toolbox and set of materials for you to work with to make exactly the game you want to make. Some examples are GURPS, Savage Worlds, Basic RolePlaying, Caltrop Core, and (as much as I loathe it) PbtA.

“I’m not supporting WotC’s monopoly because I pirate all the D&D5e books.”

Then you’re still not supporting the smaller developers that this monopoly is crushing, either.

Now, here’s the how. Because I promise you, there’s not just one, but probably a dozen other RPGs out there that will scratch your exact itch.

Here’s how to find them. This won’t be a comprehensive list because I’ve already been typing this for like 3 hours already. Those reading this, please go ahead and comment more to help fill out the list.

First, I’m gonna plug one of my own major projects, because it’s my post. The A.N.I.M. TTRPG Book Club. It’s a discord server that treats playing TTRPGs like a book club, with the goal of introducing members to a wide variety of games other than D&D5e. RPGs are nominated by members, then we hold a vote to decide what to read and play for a short campaign, then we repeat. There is no financial, time, or schedule investment required to join this book club, I promise it is very schedule-friendly, because we assign people to different groups based of schedule compatibility. You don’t have to play each campaign, or any campaign, you can just read along and participate in discussion that way. And if you can’t afford to buy the rulebook we’re going to be reading, we will make sure you get a PDF of it for free. That is how committed we are to getting non-D&D5e RPGs into people’s hands. Here is an invite link.

Next, there are quite a few tumblr blogs you can follow to get recommendations shown to you frequently.

@indierpgnewsletter

@indie-ttrpg-of-the-day

@theresattrpgforthat

@haveyouplayedthisttrpg

@indiepressrevolution

Plenty of podcasts, journalists, and youtubers out there do in-depth discussions of different systems regularly, a couple I can think of off the top of my head are:

Storyteller Conclave (I’m actually going to be interviewed live on this show on April 10th!)

Seth Skorkowsky

Questing Beast

The Gaming Table

Rascal News

Lastly, you can just go looking. Browse r/rpg, drivethrurpg.com, indie press revolution, and itch.io.

Now, if you really want to support me and my team specifically Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy, our debut TTRPG, is going to launch on Kickstarter on April 10th and we need all the help we can get. Set a reminder from the Kickstarter page through this link.

If you’re interested in a more updated and improved version of Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy than the free demo you got from our website, there’s plenty of ways to get one!

Subscribe to our Patreon where we frequently roll our new updates for the prerelease version!

Donate to our ko-fi and send us an email with proof that you did, and we’ll email you back with the full Eureka prerelease package with the most updated version at the time of responding! (The email address can be found if you scroll down to the bottom of our website.)

We also have merchanise.

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steviesummer · 1 year ago

Text

inspired by and as a direct follow up to this post by @strangersteddierthings:

Eddie is horrified. He remembers the day Steve is referring to, though clearly not as well as Steve does. He calls out as Steve raced up the stairs and hears his door slam.

“Fuck.” He stares blankly at the wall in front of him. He can’t believe things went so bad so quickly. He’s been trying to get to know Steve better, get closer and damn if he didn’t just blow the hole thing. He’d shown up early, told Steve he needed to prepare as an excuse to spend some time with him. Despite everything that happened over spring break, Steve had remained guarded, standoffish no matter what Eddie tried. At least now he knew why. He’d fucked things up before he’d known there was something to fuck up.

He feels even worse about calling him a bully. Sure, Steve had looked the other way and even laughed at some of the mean jokes others had made, but he was far from the worst. That dubious award went to Billy Hargrove, but even without him, there was plenty of people who did far worse than Steve did. Especially because Steve is right. He did hit first, metaphorically at least. He can justify it all he wants as trying to protect himself, but that doesn’t make it right. Steve all but admitted that as he said the same thing. He feels nauseous at the realization that maybe he was just as bad as those he decried. That for all his talk about accepting outcasts and defying convention, he was just as prejudiced. Swallowing hard, he heads back to the dining room and looks at the clock. There is no way he is going to be able to run the campaign today. He’s not going to be able to focus or even play without thinking about how things might have been if he hadn’t driven Steve off all those years ago. He grabs the phone and dials Gareth’s number. “Emerson house, Sheryl speaking.” “Hi Mrs. Emerson, it’s Eddie.” Eddie is proud that he manages to keep his voice even. “Is Gareth there?” “Oh, yes! Let me go get him for you.” “Thanks Mrs. Emerson.” Eddie focuses on breathing while he waits. “Eddie? Hey man, what’s up?” Eddie breathes out. “Hey Gareth. Look, I know its last minute, but we’re gonna have to postpone Hellfire. Something came up.” He could hear Gareth’s frown through the phone. “Postpone? What happened, did Harrington do something?” As if he couldn’t feel worse. “Nah. I’ll explain later, but can you call Jeff and Frank, let them know? I gotta call the freshman, too.” “Alright, but I’m going to hold you to that.” “Fair enough. Talk to you tomorrow.” Eddie promises before hanging up. He weighs his options for how to tell the Party. Eventually, he decides on calling Mike, know that the younger teen won’t push too much. He’s dialing the Wheeler home before he can second guess his decision. “This is Mike.” Eddie feels a rush of gratitude that Mike is the one who answered, rather than Nancy or one of their parents. “Hey Mike, it’s Eddie. Listen, Steve’s not feeling great and having Hellfire here isn’t going to help. Can you call the rest of the Party, let them know we’re gonna move it to another day? I’ll keep an eye on Steve.” Eddie knows Mike is a confused, given how adamant he’s been in the past about not canceling or moving Hellfire, but as he expected, Mike accepts what he says at face value. “Sure. Need us to bring anything?” “Nah, I’ve got it. Pretty sure he just needs some peace and quiet so he can rest. But thanks.” They say their goodbyes and Eddie puts the phone back on the hook. With that done, he checks that the door is locked and faces the stairs. Now for the hard part. He’s not sure what he’s going to say, if there is anything he can say that will fix this, but he has to try. Even if doesn’t change things between him and Steve, Steve deserves at least that much. Every step feels like it takes effort, chest heavy with guilt, but it only takes him a few moments to get to Steve’s door. It’s closed, which doesn’t surprise him. He takes a moment to gather his thoughts before knocking. Nothing. “Steve?” If it wasn’t for the quiet sound of Steve’s breathing he could hear through the door, Eddie would think he had left. He glad that he at least didn’t drive Steve out of his own home. He rests his forehead on the door. “I’m sorry.” Eddie hopes Steve can hear how much he means it. “You’re right, I fucked up. I made an assumption and took out my anger at other people on you. And that wasn’t fair and it’s not okay. But I want you to know that I’m sorry. Even if it wasn’t you, I shouldn’t have done that.” He lets out a hysterical laugh as he realizes - “And despite that, you still humor the kids when they talk about D&D and agreed to let us play here and didn’t punch me in the face, which makes you a better man than I.” He falls silent, listens as Steve’s breathing slows. He isn’t sure how long he stands there. He wonders how many other people he hurt this way, without even realizing. Knows he wants to do better, be better. He sighs, feeling his shoulders slump. “Anyway, I canceled Hellfire for today. I told everyone something came up, don’t worry about that. I’ll make up some story, make sure they know its not your fault. And uh, let me know if you want to hang out again or something. I know I’ve been around a lot; didn’t realize that I was making you so uncomfortable, which is probably another thing I should apologize for. Anyway. Yeah. I’ll see you around, okay?” He waits a moment for an answer, but when none comes, he backs away from the door and walks downstairs to gather his stuff. It hurts, but he knows Steve deserves space and to be the one to initiate contact. He has some thinking to do, anyway.

#steddie #my writing #fic #legit read that fic like 6 times in a row and had to write a follow up #have a handful of extra pieces as well #or thoughts anyway #like steve telling eddie about christopher #and eddie helping steve make a character and play in the future #after lots of talking and eventually getting together #his character is a dwarf paladin named after christopher #i haven't written in forever this felt so good #barely proofread so apologies for any mistakes

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reverie-starlight · 5 months ago

Text

{airport pickup - michael kaiser }

I saw this vid and immediately knew I had to write something inspired by it.

fem!reader, no physical descriptions, lots of fluffy fluff, I’m extremely down bad for one (1) Michael Kaiser and it shows in this fic. reader speaks a bit of german. if he’s extremely out of character to a horrifying degree, just know that I haven’t actually read the manga, he just takes up 90% of my brain. I’m working on it I promise 🥹

dividers by @/cafekitsune

kaiser isn’t used to being on this side of an airport pickup.

normally the roles would be reversed- he’d be coming home after a round of away games, tired and sore after pushing himself, and you’d be waiting past the gates with a smile and open arms looking like the epitome of home.

but today it’s him who is nervously glancing at his phone every few minutes, checking the time, waiting for a notification from you to see if you’ve landed or not.

you've been away for work, a conference of some sort that you had been handpicked for. he’s very proud of you, of course, but now he’s had a taste of what you must feel while he’s away and it makes his heart hurt. at least when he's overseas with his team he has constant distractions and he's often too tired to fully register the loneliness that comes with not sleeping beside you at night.

but now that he's on the off-season, training doesn't take up as much of his time and he's forced to confront a house that doesn't quite feel like a home without you.

all he wants is for you to be in his arms again. to hear your laughter, your slightly off-key singing while you’re doing chores around the house.

he’d wonder if this is really how you feel when he goes away, but he’s confident enough in your feelings to know that it is. and it pains him.

next time he travels he’ll insist on bringing you with him. he doesn’t want you to suffer through it anymore.

kaiser waits another ten agonizing minutes before your text notification goes off and he’s fumbling with his phone, trying to unlock it as fast as possible. he curses under his breath when he almost drops it and clings to it with both hands for extra security.

he’s glad he chose to go with the makeshift disguise, because he’s not sure if he’d ever live it down from you or his team if someone were to catch him in this state of desperation and post it.

(although you’ll probably laugh and call him a dork regardless of a post when you realize just how excited he is to see you. he’s counting on it, actually.)

plane landed, heading to baggage now :))

he breathes a sigh of relief and quickly lets you know where he's waiting.

how many times has he been to this airport? it must be somewhere in the thousands by now. how pathetic is it that he can't go find you without risking getting lost? he makes another mental note about learning the general layout in case this ever happens again.

knowing that you're safe and in the same building fills him with more unbearable anticipation. just as he's decided he's had enough and gets up to look at the signs that will lead him to you, he catches sight of your familiar figure and bright luggage.

your eyes meet his and you both break into wide smiles, but as you examine him and walk over, faux confusion takes over your features. he narrows his eyes suspiciously, knowing you're up to something.

"excuse me, sir," you say. "could you help me find someone?"

kaiser sighs, playing along with your antics. "no promis-"

"he's tall, has blonde hair with blue dyed tips," you cut him off, mischievous intentions clear as day to him. "kind of handsome?"

he rolls his eyes affectionately. "sorry, I don't thi- kind of handsome?"

you burst into laughter at his incredulous expression, unable to keep the act up.

"liebling, I think you mean extremely handsome, hm?"

you shake your head. "nah, not really."

he glares at you and squishes your cheeks together between his palms. "nimm das zurück!" his tone is playful, so you feel confident enough to stick your tongue out at him.

you pry his hands away from your face and happily let him wrap them around your waist. "du bist so leicht zu necken, michael," you card your fingers through his hair and he hums.

"missed you," he admits, finally feeling at peace.

"I missed you too, schatz. can we go home now? I'm jetlagged and in need of affection I don't feel comfortable displaying in an airport."

he nuzzles his nose against your hairline and presses a quick kiss there before resting his cheek on your head. "I'm already home, süße."

he doesn't see the tears welling in your eyes, but he knows you're touched by his words from the way you pull him closer and hold him tighter.

turns out you’re already home too.

translations:

nimm das zurück! - take that back!

du bist so leicht zu necken, michael - you're so easy to tease, michael.

süße - sweetness/sweet thing

liebling, schatz - dear, treasure

thank you @dira333 for checking the translations over for me <3

considering I haven't fully read the manga, it goes without saying that if he seems slightly out of character, that's why lol

hope you enjoyed!!

#michael kaiser x reader #kaiser x reader fluff #kaiser x reader #blue lock x reader #blue lock x reader fluff

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sofs16 · 5 months ago

Text

a wild ride — ln4

fc: hailee steinfeld | warnings : celebrity x fan

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆imessage — lando and oscar Lando Norris

Osccccccc

who did you invite to the garage?

Oscar Piastri

A few celebrities that follow me and long time fans. McLaren gave a list of people we could invite.

Lando Norris

Did they tell you to interact with fans more too?

Oscar Piastri

Yeah. Logan said they told him and Alex the same, so I’m guessing not only us. [Reacted 👍🏻]

landonorris

📍 Melbourne, Victoria, Australia

liked by carlossainz55, norrisupdated, and others

landonorris Exploring done. Back to work tomorrow. Let’s get it!

view all 21,484 comments

user1 thank you for unfollowing someone ♥︎ author

⤷ user2 ???

⤷user3 he followed 556 people and now 555 so angel number! norrisupdated i told my mom about you😖

⤷landonorris and what’d she say?

⤷ norrisupdated we’d make a good 🍐! ⤷ landonorris i like your humor, user norrisupdated

march 20, 2024

norrisupdated

liked by landonorris, and 8,854 others

norrisupdated via landonorris’ Instagram post 😎 : “Exploring done. Back to work tomorrow. Let’s get it!“

— i hope he knows we’re waiting for a lando.jpg comeback

#landonorris #ln4

view all 295 comments

loverwags GIRL HE REPLIED TO YOUR COMMENT!!! ⤷ norrisupdated YES😭 trying to hard to act nonchalant abt this.

landonorris how are you so quick

⤷ norrisupdated LANDO WHY ARE YOU HERE 😭😭😭😭 and im ashamed to admit i’ve had years of practice on your notifs 😖

user3 praise lando for another norrisupdated admin reveal😍

⤷ user4 her main acc is legit on her bio 😭😭😭

march 20, 2024

ᝰ.ᐟ norrisupdated just posted a story!

seen by landonorris, and 32k others

landonorris replied! 4:45 AM landonorris that was YOU? IM SORRY I ACCIDENTALLY FOLLOWED AND UNFOLLOWED YOU😭 ⤷ norrisupdated LANDO ITS FINE SORP STALKIHN ME IM SCARED ⤷ landonorris i thought fan accounts liked interactions 😢 ⤷norrisupdated Yes but it’s 4 in the morning and i’m processing this is you. ⤷ landonorris what??????? GO TO SLEEP ⤷ norrisupdated but if i sleep ill never talk to u again 😔 ⤷ landonorris i promise i will still stalk you by the time you wake up! now get sleep or else… SOMETJING ⤷ norrisupdated going to sleep 😙 thabsk for a great end of the day! ⤷landonorris anytimeeee… what’s you name, sorry? delivered

ynscloset

liked by landonorris, and 92 others

ynscloset been tired lately, but!!!!!!!!! whatever today is a good day

view all 21 comments

19h ago

f1gossip

Liked by f1wags, and 10,173 others

f1gossip Lando Norris just followed a a fan account... and her personal account!

Lando isn’t known for following a lot of fan accounts, but he has recently been replying to more comments. One of those comments made by one popular fan account, norrisupdated. Nothing out of the ordinary until Lando followed her and her main tonight.

New wag?

View all 392 comments

user1 What happened to that model he was allegedly seeing?

⤷ f1gossip Nothing really, it’s been 4 months. loverwags idk bout u guys but i ship😊 might be a lil weird to have a celebrity racer dating a fan but at least it’s yn. she’s been there since 2018 and isn’t even a crazy fan, she just updates😭

user2 he’s stalking her main HELPFME

user3 what do we know abt her

⤷f1gossip Not much aside from the fact she owns a bakery and update page…

user4 why a middle age woman like her running an update page😭

⤷ user2 MIDDLE AGE??? SHE’S 24😭😭😭😭

ynscloset Good Morning? ⤷ user6 😭😭😭

march 21, 2024

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ ynscloset just posted a story!

seen by yourbff, and 5 others

yourbff replied! 9:12 AM yourbff WHY DOES LANDONORRIS FOLLOW YOU ⤷ ynscloset because i commented that thing you told me to comment from norupdted and he replied??? and then he commented on my post and then he viewed all my stories and replied apologizing for that time he followed nd unfollowed me ⤷ yourbff BRUHHHHHH HE DMED YOU?? RPELY?? HOW DO YOU SLEEP AFTER THAT ⤷ ynscloset HE TOLD ME TO SLEEP AND WE’D CHAT IN TJE MORNING CUZ I SAID I WONT SLEEP CUZ HE WONT TALK TO ME THE NEXT DAY… YK ONCE IN A LIFETIME MOMENT!!! IM SCARED TO DM BUT THERES A MESSAGE UNREAD ⤷ yourbff must i say what you need to do😓 ⤷ ynscloset latererrr i will reply! gotta open the café!!! duties call ⤷ yourbff why do you even have that update account until now😒 ⤷ ynscloset BECAUSE I HAVE ATTACHMENT ISSUES AND WE HAVE A 5/6 YEAR BOND. ⤷ yourbff just saying this migjt be your opportunity to be a wag😽 ⤷ ynscloset i cant handle that pressure oh no😭 and its not gonna happen!!!!! bye!

ynscloset

liked by landonorris, and 48,284 others

ynscloset whatta busy busy day! thank youuu for stoping by, new customers 🧡

view all 4,372 comments

user2 loll just cuz lando followed this girl theyre coming to her bakery😭

user3 passed by and many people kept asking her abr lando… let this girl work in peace

user4 why does lando follow her?

⤷ user2 lots of people think she’s his new gf

user5 LANDO IN THE LIKES

user5 ogs know yn from norrisupdated surviving the content drought 😖 ♥︎ author user6 i discovered you through a wag page, but now you’re my favorite baker (and your bakery is my new fave)! thanks for being so kind🥹🤍

⤷ ynscloset thank you for stopping by!!! hope to see ya again 🧡

user7 not this girl acting as if she a wag 😭😭

⤷ user1 she didn’t do anything…

ynscloset has limited the comments…

march 21, 2024

Lando Norris landonorris • instagram 8.5M Followers • 1,801 Posts You both follow each other on instagram

4:01 AM

Lando Norris

anytimeeee… what’s you name, sorry?

9:21 PM

norrisupdated

Yn! Hold up, I’ll message you from my main:)

[Reacted 🧡]

Lando Norris landonorris • instagram 8.5M Followers • 1,801 Posts You both follow each other on instagram

9:22 PM

Hi!

Sorry I replied so late, I just got home:/

Lando Norris

Hey! Isn’t it like 10 in the states?? Why so late

Yesss busy day at work:) actually, a lot of them are your fans asking me about you 😙

Lando Norris

I meant to apologize to you about that…

Sorry for all the hate you’ve been getting because I followed you

no biggie, i don’t mind it

i think i just need to go quiet for a bit and let it die down🙏🏼

Lando Norris

sounding like a professional over there??? done this before?😂

watched f1 enough to get the gist how it works LMAFFOF

Lando Norris

everrr attended a gp?

STILL saving up:/ at my bakery, the tip jar is labeled for me to watch a gp😔

Lando Norris

Woulddddd it be cool if I invited you over for the Suzuka GP?

Are you joking

Lando Norris

yes

seen for 2m

Lando Norris

wait no im not actually joking

wai dont leave me on seen

HELLO?

NOT cool dude

Lando Norris

is this a no😢

wait

i would love to

BUT

lowkey in debt rn to afford a flight……………. I WILL FIND A WAY HOLD ON😂

Lando Norris

i could book you a flight

as you say, no biggie

what

thats too much

what

huh

what

Lando Norris

yn, i’m opening the website rn so tell me if youre available😔

yes im available 😊

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ ynscloset just posted a story!

seen by yourbff, and 7 others

yourbff replied! yourbff Context? ⤷ ynscloset Lando Norris is flying me out to Japan for the Suzuka GP.

21:45

Lando Norris

booked! whats your number for the deets?

How do I know you’re not hacked and you’re going to hack me next?

Lando Norris

….

i’m confused how you got to this question

Enough proof?

close enough but that is not 11am in australia and its live on tv youre in practice 😖😖😖😖 #LandoHacked!

Lando Norris

damn youre good

I just looked better in the other pic😒 embarrassing u look better at 9pm than me rn

why are you LYING

anyways +1 201 xxx xxx

[ Reacted 🧡 ]

Lando Norris

Whats with the seenzoning 😓

delivered 21:54

HELLO SORRY

I bought food mb IM BACK

Lando Norris

Shit

dont apologize

IM sorry, i forgot to ask if youve eaten

What did u gettttt

dont worry! have you eaten?

i got mexcian food🤤

[Reacted 😍]

Lando Norris

I ate with the team earlier, just getting ready for FP1

gooooodluck lando!

gotta work, but ill be watching! p.s u should jpg post 😂

Lando Norris

gotta work, but ill be watching! ⤷goodluck working!!!! gotta visit that bakery soon:) ⤷ also a lot of pressure youre putting there😓 ill try my best

p.s u should jpg post 😂 ⤷lets see 🙈

f1gossip

liked by ynscloset, and others

f1gossip End of FP1 with these top three!

view all 23 comments

user4 YN IN THE LIKES

march 22, 2024

— instagram notification !! [landonorris] ynscloset congrats on fp1!!!!!! hope you get the same results for the race 🤭

𐙚 twitter

lando.jpg

liked by ynscloset, and others

lando.jpg ask and u shall receiveeeeee

view all 2,832 others

user2 we all know who asked

⤷user4 who

⤷user3 yn! “i hope he knows we’re waiting for a lando.jpg comeback” from her last update post

user5 i love the yn lando lore sorry😭

⤷user6 im so rooting for them

march 22, 2024

mclaren

liked by ynscloset, landonorris, and others mclaren HUGE POINTS HAUL! 👊🏻 A great drive from Lando and Oscar to deliver Down Under!🤩

view all 1,247 comments

march 24, 2024

ynscloset 🔒

liked by landonorris, and 73,743 others

ynscloset an amazing week 🧡🧁

view all 3,371 comments

user2 we love youuuuuu

user5 yall made her go private😭😭😭😭😭 NOO

⤷ user1 atleast she’s still posting 🥹

yourbff i love him alr

⤷ ynscloset 😎

comments are limited …

march 25, 2024

f1gossip

liked by 12,383 others

f1gossip Yn seen at the airport in Japan! Will she be attending the GP? view all 1,574 comments

user6 WELCOME BACK QUEEN SERENA

user7 not her being a golddigger alr lol she was photographed leaving from the first class section😭😭

⤷user6 get a job

april 3, 2024

f1gossip

liked by landonorris, and 23,583 others

f1gossip What we’ve all been waiting for! Yn joins the McLaren garage today at the Suzuka Grand Prix where Lando came in 2nd! Lando and Yn weren’t seen together until they left together, but no photos have surfaced yet. Many people have said she was super nice and took pictures with a lot of people and even gave baked goods to the McLaren garage and some fans!! view all 4,284 comments

f1gossip📌 photos in order:

1. yn seen smiling at lando while outside the mclaren garage

2. yn taking pics of lando when he came on the screen

3. yn with a fan during the after party

4. yn on the big screen before the gp started!

5. yn and lando’s front wing while mclaren workers were describing the car and stuff (people say she was asking questions and super excited)

6. yn with a fan again! they said she had to go because lando was waving at her 🥹

user5 idk what yall say, i like her

user7 SHE GAVE ME A CUPCAKE 😭😭😭😭😭😭

april 7, 2024

landonorris

liked by ynscloset, and others

landonorris a great week!

view all 43,273 comments

carlossainz55 wonder why

april 8, 2024

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ ynscloset just posted a story!

seen by landonorris, and 839k others

#f1 fanfic #formula 1 #f1 imagines #lando norris x y/n #lando imagine #lando norris imagine #lando 4 #lando norris smau #lando norris x reader

595 notes · View notes

screwitbaby · 25 days ago

Text

date night

hamzahthefantastic x reader (oneshot)

summary: hamzah had made a reservation for you two to go on a date night, only to miss it and have to make it up to you ;)

contains: smut, fluff, general NSFW content

a/n: hiii this is my first post pls go easy on me and the song is just there bc i feel like it applies to how i feel abt hamzah (also that pic of him is ridiculous but i love it muahaha)

You couldn’t believe it. You were sitting in this boujee Italian restaurant, all dolled up and quite frankly famished, waiting for your boyfriend to magically appear an hour after you had agreed to meet.

The waiter came to check on you for the upteenth time when you decided you’d had enough humiliation for the night. You finished the last of the white wine in your glass and ordered an Uber.

When you got home, you stripped of your dress and heels, eyeing the desecration of your room that took form during the process of you getting ready for the night. You could’ve been at his place by now, but instead you were stuck cleaning up the reminder of your failed date.

You were strewn across the couch in just a T-shirt, absentmindedly watching a movie when you heard knocking on your apartment door. You got up to look into the peephole and sighed. You unlocked it without even opening it. You refused to look at him, simply walking to the couch and focusing on the TV.

“Baby, I’m so so sorry,” Hamzah said once he was inside.

Your vision was obstructed by a bouquet of flowers; an array of purple hyacinth, phlox, and snowdrop amidst green tuberose stalks that had yet to bloom. You took them from his hands and placed them in a vase on the kitchen counter, all while he was following you like a kicked puppy and apologizing.

“I cried all my makeup off,” you said.

“I’m so sorry,” he repeated. “I was trying to finish up the video with Martin, but our footage got corrupted and—I’m sorry. I know I fucked up.”

“At least you know,” you mumbled, fiddling with the flowers. You tried not to cry but some tears escaped despite your best efforts.

“I promise I’ll make it up to you.” He walked up behind you and put his hands on your waist. “You can slap me if you want.”

“Hamzah,” you sighed. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I’m serious,” he said, grazing his fingertips across your sides. “I thought I could get it done and make it to our date, but I only made you upset. I’m a fool.”

He began kissing your shoulder and you melted into his embrace. His lips trailed all the way up your neck to your cheek. You tilted your head to the side and exhaled.

“I’m so stupid,” he said in between placing chaste kisses on your skin. “Why would I do that to my babygirl?”

You turned around in his arms and crossed yours, finally making eye contact. “Is this your idea of ‘making it up to me’?”

“I don’t know,” he said, running a hand through his already disheveled hair. “Is it working?”

He was still in his dress clothes and you found it so annoying how even through your dejection, you still found him so charming.

“If you have to ask…”

He tilted his head and smiled with his tongue in his cheek. “It’s not funny.”

“It isn’t, babe,” he said, hands finding your hips again. “I just can’t stand you being angry at me.”

“Then don’t make me angry.”

“And your lips are swollen and your eyes are red from crying,” he continued on, swiping your tears away with his thumb. “But I still can’t fathom how beautiful you are. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

He held you against him and placed kisses on your neck, right on your pulse. You felt him begin to suck and held back a moan, not wanting to give in just yet.

“I don’t deserve you,” he whispered, kissing the splotchy red mark he left.

“Show me that you do,” you said.

He pulled away to look you in your eyes. “Show you?”

You raised your eyebrows, waiting for him to make a move. He got the hint and took your hand to lead you to your bedroom, all too familiar with the floor plan of your apartment. When you arrived at the bed, he lied down and pulled you on top of him. Then, his lips pressed against yours.

You immediately licked at his lips, not wanting to take it slow. Your movements were fueled by anger, his passion. You hated how quickly you’d respond to his advances, so you made sure he’d know you weren’t there to make love.

Your mouths clashed and your palms laid flat on his chest, holding you up as you tried to get as close to each other as possible, to becoming one. You ground your hips against his, already feeling his dick rising to attention against you. He held your hair back with one hand as the two of you got more insatiable.

Your clothes came off and he pulled your panties to the side, his fingers touching you where you needed him most. You moaned against his lips, rocking yourself against his digits that were covered in your slick. It was when you reached down into his boxers that he stopped you, a string of spit still connecting you.

“It’s all about you tonight, baby,” he said, breathless.

He hastily pulled you up his torso and you would’ve lost your balance if he wasn’t holding you in place. He pressed a kiss against your clothed clit and you shivered, biting your lip.

“Take it off,” he growled, so you did.

With you grabbing the headboard, he pulled you down in one swift motion onto his face. His tongue swiped up your wetness and a moan ripped through your throat at the sudden contact. He showed no mercy, palms grasping at your ass to rock you harder against him as he fucked his tongue in and out of you. As his nose rubbed against your clit deliciously, you called his name out like a prayer.

One of his hands reached up to pinch at your nipples and you gasped, slipping your hand into his curls and pulling. He groaned and the vibrations sent shockwaves through you that only pushed you closer to the finish line. He ate you without breaking apart for a single breath. Blinding white heat filled your veins when he began desperately suctioning his lips on your clit and it was all getting to be too much.

“Cum for me,” he mumbled against your heat.

Something awakened within you when you felt the stinging sensation of a smack against your ass. The obscene sound of his moans against you echoing through the room. His saliva mixed with your arousal and creating a wet friction that had your eyes rolling back into your head. You couldn’t take it anymore.

You rode his face with shaky legs, crying out as your orgasm racked through your body and turned your brain to mush. He held you down and torturously nipped at your skin, kissing and licking at your thighs and pubic bone. He didn’t stop until he had lapped up all of you. When you’d finally had enough, you held his hands and climbed off, sitting up against the headboard to try and collect yourself.

Oxygen filled your lungs for the first time in what felt like hours. You looked to your left, watching him clean the traces of you on his face and lick it off his fingers. You groaned and turned on your side to nuzzle yourself into his rapidly rising and falling chest.

“I love you,” he said. You leaned up to kiss him lazily, tasting yourself on his lips. “And I’m sorry for tonight.”

“I know. I love you,” you replied, resting your cheek on his pec and gently tracing his happy trail with your finger. “I don’t like that restaurant much, anyway.”

He huffed out a laugh at your words. “For real?”

“Yeah, I only go ‘cause it’s your favorite,” you admitted. “I’d prefer your cooking.”

He laughed again and you dug your face into his bouncing chest, biting back your smile.

“I wish you told me that before I made you cry,” he whispered. The same relentless fingers that were inside you just minutes before delicately ghosted across your spine.

“You know what would really make it up to me?” You placed your chin atop your hands and stared at his big brown eyes.

“Hmm?” He gently wiped the remnants of mascara from under your eyes.

“If you made me some food. Now.”

He grinned and kissed your forehead before getting up from bed, making you whine. He tossed one of his shirts on the bed for you and you pulled it on.

“I’m making spaghetti bolognese.” He leaned against the doorframe with his arms crossed and you shamelessly took in the sight of his biceps flexing. “How’s that sound, baby?”

“Perfect,” you sighed. He began to retreat down the hall until you called out his name. “What about you?”

You motioned towards his dick and he shook his head. “Who said I was done with you?”

a/n: AHHHH lmk if u liked it !!!

#hamzahthefantastic #hamzah x reader #slushy noobz #slushy virus #hamzahsmut #first post #hamzah fluff #hamzah fic

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dystopyx-blog · 2 months ago

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Bro I think so hard about being in TWST without meds but specifically with Floyd. The way he just, doesn't care. You're tired? Awww how sad, he wants to play with his favorite shrimpy. You think he doesn't care at all until you hurt yourself and suddenly he's shackled to your side.

I just got like brain blasted by the SH post due to my own spiraling and like tjis idea alone has given me so much comfort

bro Floyd comfort…. I mean he is literally a comfort character for me, if it isn’t obvious lol. I’m really really glad I could give you some comfort! Genuinely, that gives ME comfort. Especially since my yandere twst posts are also meant to give me comfort, so the fact they do the same for others warms my heart.

It’s so surprising the first time Floyd comforts you. He approaches you, going “hey hey hey, what’s the matter with shrimpy? :(“ and you try to tell him it’s nothing. “Ain’t nothin’ if it got shrimpy sad. Tell me what’s wrong.” And to your surprise he sits and listens. And he’s a good listener, at least for you in that specific moment. He doesn’t interrupt, he doesn’t make fun of you, he sits there and hums to let you know he’s listening. You find yourself spilling everything to him, it’s surprisingly easy to. Maybe you shouldn’t have, maybe he’ll just use it all against you in the future, who fucking cares, this is what you need right now. For a second you wonder if this is actually Jade using Shock the Heart on you somehow. But no, it’s Floyd. A seemingly very out of character Floyd? After pouring your heart out to him, he hits you with a sympathetic stare. “Damn, shrimpy,” he says, “that really sucks…”

Then he gets up and you assume, that’s it, he’s gonna leave me here now. But he offers you a hand and a grin. “C’mon Shrimpy, I’m gonna cheer you up.” ‘And he will try his damndest to do just that, taking you all over campus to find something to lift your spirits. But really, the very process of hanging out with him and watching him try to find something to do with you is enough to have you smiling. You end up in the Mostro Lounge, Floyd promising to get ya whatever you want. Unfortunately, Jade is the one to take your order, which means, of course, you’re subject to his needling. But then Floyd shoos him away. And later, when Azul himself appears at your table, hoping to get his suckers on useful information, Floyd glares at him and tells him to leave you alone. “Great Seven, why can’t anyone just leave us alone? Cant they see I’m tryna spend time with my shrimpy?” And maybe you don’t realize it at the time, still so caught off guard from what seemed to be a total flip in personality, but he meant it when he called you his shrimpy. If you were anyone else, he wouldn’t have given a fuck, it’s only because you were you that Floyd was at all invested in your feelings. Cuz everything about his shrimpy is interesting and entertaining. That’s why they’re his. You notice Floyd hangs out with you a lot more after that, stuck to your side like glue. He’s awful for ADD considering his sudden swings in mood. You get distracted, but it’s even worse with him because once he’s in the mood to do something he just does it. So you’ll be trying to focus on work, and he’ll be there because he’s basically always with you at this point, and he suddenly decides you two have to go do this random thing right now. It’s the same when you’re in depressions, too, he’ll drag you along. It’s surprisingly helpful, though. It’s hard to be bored with Floyd, which makes sense considering how much he hates being bored. So even without your antidepressants… well, at least you have Floyd Leech??

#yandere #yandere rambles #yandere twst #yandere twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland #twst #floyd leech #yandere asks #yandere twst asks #yandere floyd leech x reader #yandere floyd leech #my floyd addiction strikes again

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tkaulitzlvr · 1 year ago

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hii can u pls do c0ckwarming with tom omg

STAY STILL - T. KAULITZ

synopsis: tom can’t wait any longer, but knows that you are too tired to fix his problem the way he wants you to. but you can’t deny the need slowly becoming mutual so, you decide to meet him halfway, and he doesn’t complain.

content: smut (not full sex, just what the req says lol)

a/n: thanku for the req!! SO SORRY FOR NOT POSTING, hopefully this makes up for it! literally screaming and giggling whilst writing this (help), also the way he moves his tongue in this vid HELLO (need it inside me) ++there won’t be a part two (don’t hate me!) my upload schedule is just too irregular, i have a ton of requests and just don’t think i’d be able to write one, in the future if i’m less busy i may come back to this!!

“please baby, i’ll do all the work, i promise.” tom pleads for probably the tenth time, digging his head into the crook of my neck and placing open-mouthed kisses onto the skin, whining lowly against it. any other time, i would’ve given in the second his lips made contact with my neck, and he knows this, deciding to try his luck once again. however right now, the circumstances don’t work in tom’s favour, much to his annoyance. i am too tired to even properly decline his request, sighing loudly and shaking my head as my eyes flutter closed. this isn’t enough for tom, my lack of response not a concrete ‘no’, this all he needs to press himself against me once more, hoping that it would be just enough to push me toward that three letter word he has been longing for me to say. whilst our proximity doesn’t do that just yet, the frequent motion of tom’s hips rocking against my waist reminds me just how desperate he is, the hardness evident through his boxers - not that the cotton left much to be imagined anyway.

“baby i’m tired, tomorrow, okay?” i sigh out, half-heartedly pushing tom away as a frustrated groan leaves his lips. though he fails to see the mischievous grin that spreads across my face with the small push that i place to his chest when he flops beside me, clearly not understanding what i am doing. honestly, i wouldn’t have minded lazy sex - tom never complains when he does all the work and, if i give in, it will make him shut up, his whining already getting on my nerves, whether he is trying to irritate me or not. but, watching the way his face furrows in utter frustration, wincing every so often at the pain that begs for a release from underneath his boxers, gives me the motivation to tease him just a little more - but in the end, i am more than willing to give him what he wants, or at least, meet in the middle.

“fuck.” he mutters under his breath, wincing a little at my response, eyes squeezing shut as his chest heaves up and down, loud and shaky breaths escaping his lips, making it hard to close my eyes and finally fall asleep. i know that he won’t give up yet, so, i lay silently, wondering how long it will take for him to continue pleading me to let go and give him what he wants. and, as expected, not even two minutes pass before his hand snakes around my waist from behind? his body pressing itself firmly against my back.

“this isn’t gonna go away baby, shit- i’m sorry, just, please…let me do something.” he sighs out, a low whine following his plea, hand firmly squeezing my waist whilst his head buries itself into my neck, teeth digging into the skin softly. “fuck- need you so bad, please.”

a small laugh leaves my lips, stifled quickly once i purse them shut, thinking out loud as my amusement towards his desperation quickly becomes evident. tom stops his slow kisses against my neck, whipping his head upward in confusion, failing to see how i could possibly be laughing right now. “what’s so funny? seriously schatz, this fucking hurts. please, just let me take care of it. i won’t be long, just need to feel you.”

his voice reduces to a mumble, eyebrows knitting together once again, though a wave of relief visibly washes over his expression when i roll my eyes, sighing in -totally forged- annoyance, though he doesn’t recognise that. all he realises is that he is getting something, not even completely sure what, but in this moment, anything at all would be enough for him to release - he is far too desperate to be picky. soon enough, he hauls himself up, hurriedly undoing the button of his oversized jeans and tugging them from his frame, carelessly throwing them onto the floor. and god, if i had thought his problem looked bad through the denim, then i am quickly proven wrong, the firm print of his dick through his boxers almost painfully prominent. his hand brushes against it, the cotton of his underwear now creating more friction, his head falling backward as a low groan sounds from the back of his throat, showing just how sensitive he really is, and now i know that it won’t take a lot to give him what he craves.

he quickly moves to climb on top of me, not getting far as my hand rests flat against his bare chest, halting his movement. his eyebrows furrow in confusion, mouth opening to protest my resistance, though i interject, deciding that if he wants me that badly, then he shouldn’t complain about how he gets me.

“mmm, no. sit back baby, i want to try something.” i whisper, teeth grazing the skin just below his ear, tongue running over it afterward as his eyes flutter open and closed, mouth hanging open with a small smirk on his face. he nods his head quickly, sliding backward until his upper half rests against the headboard, head tilted upward and legs sprawled onto the bed. his hands however, fail to be so still, reaching outward hopelessly and grabbing me by my waist, fingers digging into the flesh as he pulls me on top of him.

he winces loudly once i sit directly on top of his chest, the sound soon turning into a low moan, mouth dropping downward into an ‘o’ shape at the dangerously addictive mix of pain and pleasure that i give him. i smirk in satisfaction at his desperation, finding it almost pitiful, watching intently at the way his eyes flutter, on the verge of closing, though they manage to stay half lidded, soon shooting open when my small fingers make contact with the waistband of his boxers. his breathing becomes more erratic, hands flying to my hips once more, chest rising up and down at an even faster pace. right now, wearing only a small pair of shorts and crop top appears to work perfectly in my favour, and tom’s, as his hands reach to pull the strap down, lips soon attaching themselves to my breast, whilst my own hands move my shorts down my body, tugging tom’s boxers down soon after.

his eyes are fixed on where our bodies connect once i line myself up, sliding down onto him at an agonisingly slow pace, wincing slightly at the feeling of being stretched out, going from being totally empty to so full within the space of a few seconds. tom is way out of it, and had been ever since i began to sink onto him, his mouth uttering low curses and grunts under his breath, nails digging into the flesh of my waist, teeth occasionally digging into his bottom lip.

“fuck schatz, yeah…you’re so tight, so good for me.” he utters when i bottom out, though his satisfaction doesn’t last long, eyes quickly opening once he realises that i am not moving, instead staying still with him still inside of me. he decides against questioning my behaviour, his hips beginning to thrust upwards as a slow pace, incoherent whines leaving his lips as he does so.

“ah ah ah…” i begin, lifting my hips upward and almost completely off of him, hand moving to rest firmly against his chest. he slows his movements, pushing my hips so that he is inside of me once again. “no moving baby, just let me sit. stay still, okay?”

i clench around him unconsciously, moaning quietly as he groans under his breath, clearly holding back from snapping his hips upward again. “fuck baby, you’re fucking killing me, you know that?” he confesses, shaking his head slowly, eyes lustful as they stare into my own, the pools of brown silently communicating exactly what he wants to do, the intent behind them nothing close to innocent. but, no matter how tempting it sounds to let him take control, to reverse the roles and have me pinned beneath him, thrusting in and out of me whilst muttering confirmations of how good i feel, how perfect i am, i enjoy seeing him like this, completely helpless underneath me, begging for something, anything, other than the teasing that i keep up, and i don’t intend on giving in.

“you wanted this, right?” i taunt, lips curving upward into an innocent smile, my thoughts anything but, aware of what i am doing, the frustration that takes over his expression proof of my success. “i thought you wanted me, like this…” my voice is low and suggestive, thick as honey, words as addictive as a drug, and he continues to take them all in. my lips make contact right next to his ear, slowly kissing just below it, digging my teeth in afterward, his hips jolting upward at the sensation. and if that wasn’t enough, when i adjust myself on top of him, moving my lips ever so slightly, that is when he loses it, head quickly rolling backward, mouth dropping open, a deep groan sounding from the back of his throat.

“oh my god, fuck- you’re driving me insane, please just- do something.” his voice is shaky, cut off by small groans, his tongue coming outward to play with his lip ring, flicking the silver metal in small circles, all whilst his eyes never leave my own, the desperation within them never diminishing.

“nope, you’ll live baby.” i state in response, leaning forward and resting my chest against his, wrapping my arm around his frame and sighing nonchalantly, closing my eyes. “i told you i was tired.” as i do so, he shifts his weight underneath me, slightly altering the angle that his dick rests inside of me, his eyes squeezing shut at the feeling. no matter how much he wants something more, he doesn’t refuse my embrace, wrapping his arms around my back, his hands tracing circles along the bare skin, lifting up my crop top and resting underneath it.

minutes pass like this, my walls clenching around him every so often, getting him just a little more riled up, enough to make him sigh out in pleasure and groan at the feeling of slight relief, though it is never enough to satisfy him, just enough to keep him on the verge of losing his mind, to keep him guessing, waiting for something more than just being inside of me. this feels like more of a punishment than a reward to him, the frustrated groans he lets out only seeming to get louder, though he doesn’t give in, knowing that he could thrust upwards into me - all it would take is a slight movement of his hips and he would have me, yet he holds back, almost testing his own willpower, even though we both know that it is non-existent, no matter how hard he tries to convince himself otherwise.

and it doesn’t take long for him to finally reach his breaking point, no longer able to handle just having me here, sitting beneath me helplessly, his mind encouraging him to move, whilst his body is too desperate, too completely needy, to even comply with his unholy thoughts. instead, he voices them as a request, trying once again to elicit something from my own still body.

“kiss me.” he mutters into the silence as my head remains rested in the crook of his neck, hearing slightly muffled. though the quiet doesn’t show it, he is becoming more restless, breathing getting louder and faster, his hold on me tighter, almost inaudible whines sounding from the back of his throat every so often.

“hm?” i mumble half-heartedly, lacking the energy to lift my head upward from where it had been resting, staying still within his embrace instead. my thumbs trace the firmness of his back, travelling over each bump, each muscle, all coated with a thin line of sweat, all of it evidence of just how needy he is for this.

“i said kiss me.” he repeats, somewhere on the verge of desperation and frustration, clearly not willing to let me take control of him anymore. as he speaks, his hand moves from my back, making contact with my chin, using it to lift my head upward so my eyes look straight into his own, faces inches apart. warm and heavy, his breath fans against my face when he speaks, the close proximity and admitted need for him creating a light shade of pink to etch upon my cheeks, though it is nothing compared to the helplessness that tom displays, his words proving it if that isn’t enough. “no more games. just fucking kiss me.”

something inside me snaps. whether it is the close proximity, his enticing gaze, or the time that i have spent on top of him, doing nothing to pleasure either of us, it doesn’t matter anymore. all that i am certain of is that i no longer want to tease him, placing my lips onto his quickly. the kiss is slow and gentle as i initiate it, tom reciprocating it, his shoulders quickly relaxing as he already receives some relief after waiting for so long. though it is too soft, too reluctant, too tender for him. he wants more, and he wastes no time in acting on his desire, pressing his lips more firmly against my own, deepening the kiss and biting down roughly onto my bottom lip as it parts in response, allowing him to slip his tongue inside.

and when my hips jolt upwards slightly at his sudden movement, he soon realises that he has me where he wants - still inside of him, and that realisation is all it takes for his hips to snap upwards, thrusting in and out of me at a fast pace. his hands find my lower back, trailing down to my ass and roughly cupping the flesh, using them to quicken his thrusts and allow my bounces to meet them, fingers leaving harsh red marks in place of the soft skin. the distance between our faces only increases beyond a few inches once i let out a loud moan, smiling in satisfaction.

he places one final kiss on my lips, flipping us over in one swift motion whilst staying inside of me. i cry out when his tip hits the sensitive spot inside of me, though i soon play it off, attempting to return my facial expression to something as close as neutral as i can get it - on the inside, i am screaming, silently begging for him to carry on. but he doesn’t. his eyes twinkle with satisfaction, enjoying the way i lay helplessly beneath him, even though moments ago, the roles were completely reversed. he picks up on my attempt to act casual, aware that i am just as desperate as he is, if not more, my entire being transparent, almost pathetically easy to decipher to him.

“this whole nonchalant act doesn’t suit you baby. you can stop acting like you don’t want it, we both know you’ll be screaming in a couple minutes, watch.”

those are the final words he says before reconnecting his lips to mine and speeding up his thrusts, soon proving his bold statement to be nothing short of the truth, making my temporary dominance seem a fragment of my imagination within seconds.

requests are open! keep sending them in!!

#tom kaulitz #tokiohotel #kaulitz twins #tom kaulitz x reader #tomkaulitz #tom kaulitz smut #kaulitz #tom kaulitz angst #tom kaulitz fluff #bill kaulitz

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jetii · 5 months ago

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Goodbye, and Other Impossible Words

Pairing: Echo x fem!Reader / Echo x Medic!Reader

Words: 16,500

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! angst, hurt/comfort, depression, slight insecure reader, mutual pining, a lil jealousy, smut, dirty talk, praise kink, unprotected sex, fingering, face-sitting, cockwarming, creampie, handjobs, and lots of feelings!

Summary: Echo knows he made the right choice, he knows he needs to see this through with Rex, even if it meant leaving you behind. But that doesn’t mean it didn't hurt to say goodbye, nor does it mean it’s easy to see you struggling when he returns to Pabu.

A/N: Thank you to everyone who liked, commented, and reblogged my Rex fic! I was expecting like 5 notes so to say I’m pleasantly surprised is an understatement.

I rewrote this about five times before I was at least somewhat satisfied enough to share, and each time it got longer so I had to cut it off somewhere or risk splitting into parts. I have a backlog of finished works to post, and I can't decide which to publish next, so I’m open to suggestions for who you'd like to see next week!

Previous Work | Next Work | Masterlist

“You’re really leaving, aren’t you?”

Echo stills, his head hanging slightly before he turns to you. Your voice is quiet, barely above a whisper, and there's no accusation in your words, only a deep, weary sadness.

For a moment, you look so tired.

“I have to, cyare. You know that.” His voice is low, his own eyes mirroring your emotions.

You look down, your hands wringing together as you take a slow, deep breath.

Echo’s chest aches.

He takes a step closer, and then another, and another, until he’s standing in front of you, the two of you toe-to-toe. You’ve always known that Echo wouldn’t be around forever, just as he’s always known that this isn’t the life you deserve. It is something you never speak of, but something both know all too well.

Your shoulders tremble, just a little.

“I know, I just…” You suck in a breath. “I’m going to miss you.”

Your voice breaks on the last syllable, and Echo feels something in his own chest shatter with it.

He wraps you in his arms. “Me too.”

You melt into his touch, your head coming to rest against his shoulder. You stay like that for a few minutes, neither saying a word, just breathing each other in, holding onto each other like you never have before.

Eventually, you pull away, wiping at your eyes with the heel of your hand. He can see you trying to pull yourself together, putting your mask back into place and hiding away the pain you feel.

You give him a small, watery smile.

His stomach twists.

“When you come back, tell me what it means,” you say, your voice barely more than a whisper.

“What?”

“Cyare.”

Echo feels a pang in his chest. He swallows the lump forming in his throat. “I will.”

There’s a beat of silence, the two of you staring at each other with the same longing in your eyes, until Echo turns away, looking down at the floor.

“I should get going. Rex and I…”

“No, it’s fine.” You give him that smile again, the same one you always do, but he sees a little of the light in your eyes dim. “Go. I’ll see you later, okay?”

Echo swallows, and nods.

With that, you turn and leave, disappearing around the corner, the sound of your footsteps fading as you get further and further away.

He watches you go.

The room is cold, suddenly, the silence deafening.

Echo clenches his jaw, and lets out a breath through his nose. He stands there, alone, for a few more minutes, staring at the empty doorway where you once were, where you were going to stay.

And then, he walks out.

Echo’s promise to keep in touch with you fell apart some time between leaving you behind on Coruscant and his first real mission with Rex. The thought of you, and his guilt at leaving, and the fear that you would move on without him, was too much for him to handle. It was better this way. Safer. For you, and for him.

He kept telling himself that.

It worked, too, for a while.

But then he’d come back from a mission and see a flash of your hair and feel a stab in his chest, and he’d remember the way you smiled when he called you cyare, or the way your eyes would light up whenever he managed to say something you thought was funny, or the feeling of your fingers as you bandaged his wounds, and then…

It hurt.

So he pushed you out of his mind, and tried not to think about you. He’d tell himself it was fine, that this was for the best.

It was fine.

Really.

Still, he couldn’t help but look forward to it when he was tasked with asking for Tech’s help deciphering the drive. The entire trip to Pabu, he’d felt restless, jittery, eager. It was strange. He hadn’t felt this way since his first assignment on Rishi Station, back when he’d been young and idealistic and desperate to make a difference.

It wasn’t a bad feeling.

But now that he’s here, descending the ramp of the Remora, his nervousness has returned, along with a tight knot of dread in his stomach.

Hunter greets him first, clasping his hand in his own. Echo can’t help but return the smile on Hunter’s face, though he can feel his own falter slightly as his gaze flickers past the other man’s shoulder, his eyes darting around the landing zone.

Omega and Tech are next, the former throwing herself into his arms as soon as she is close enough to reach. “We’ve missed you!” She exclaims.

“It hasn’t been that long,” he replies, chuckling lightly, though his attention is elsewhere.

“Is everything alright?” Tech’s question pulls his focus back. He catches Echo’s gaze drifting over his shoulder, no doubt looking for their missing teammate.

“Yeah, it’s just…” Echo pats Omega’s shoulder and withdraws, pushing himself to stand up straight, though the tension remains in his spine. He cranes his head around the group in the hopes of catching sight of you. “Where is she?”

Hunter and Tech share a look, the latter clearing his throat.

“Echo, I think —“

“Where is she?” he repeats, his impatience winning out.

The three clones freeze, their smiles disappearing. Hunter’s mouth twitches, his lips pressing into a thin line. “She wanted to be here, but —“

“But what?” Echo asks, his brow furrowing.

Tech and Hunter look at each other again. Echo can feel his pulse starting to quicken, the dread in his stomach growing. Something isn’t right.

Tech takes a step closer. He reaches out, putting a hand on Echo’s arm.

“Echo!”

His head snaps up.

He catches a glimpse of gold as the figure approaches, your feet moving at a near run, and his heart stutters in his chest.

You come to a stop a few feet away, and Echo drinks you in, taking in every detail, every change since he last saw you.

You are still just as beautiful as ever.

You are almost unrecognizable without your plastoid armor. Your hair is longer, and you’ve forgone the standard-issued fatigues for a flowing skirt and sandals. A loose tank top bares your arms and chest to the tops of your breasts. He feels his mouth go dry at the sight of so much bare skin on display, far more than he’s ever seen of you. Pabu’s sun is good to you. Your tanned skin glistens with slight perspiration, and a faint pink flush graces your cheeks that have more freckles than he remembers.

Echo shakes himself in an effort to stop staring. The last thing he wants is to scare you off when you’re finally together again, however brief that time will be.

You thankfully don’t seem to notice. A grin threatens to split your face from ear to ear, and Echo is convinced you’re about to launch yourself into his arms as Omega does until you stop short.

“Hi,” you say shyly, holding your elbows behind your back.

Echo has the overwhelming urge to close the distance and wrap his arms around you.

He shoves the desire down, forcing a casual grin.

“Hi.” His voice comes out rough, and he coughs in an attempt to clear his throat. “You look great — I mean, good. Healthy. That’s…it’s good. Good to see you.”

Dikkut, he curses to himself. He reaches up to rub the warmth blooming on the back of his neck. He has never been a smooth talker, but it’s even worse when it comes to you. He’s lucky that you never seem to take offense to his blunders.

“You too, Echo.” You smile, a bit of color rising on your cheeks. Is your face flushed from running, or are you blushing? “Looks like Rex hasn’t run you too ragged yet.”

“That’s why I’m here, actually.” He looks toward Tech, eager for the subject change. “I need your help.”

“Let’s go somewhere private,” Hunter suggests. As Echo falls into step with Tech, Hunter leads you down toward your homes. You pick up the rear with Omega, the two whispering to each other about something he can’t hear.

Echo glances back over his shoulder. Your eyes meet, and your face lights up with a smile that makes his breath catch. He looks away quickly, turning his attention back to Tech.

He can’t get distracted, not when he has a mission.

Once settled around the table in the house the boys share with Omega, he explains what they’re hoping to find on the drive. Tech looks eager to get started.

“This will take some time,” he says over his datapad. “I suggest we find a place for you to spend the night.”

“The Remora has—”

“I have a spare bedroom,” you offer, popping your head into the doorway from the kitchen. You have a dish towel draped over your shoulder, a large bowl filled with something green and steaming in your hands, and something about the way you look makes his heart stutter.

You smile warmly at him. A familiar heat pools low in Echo’s gut at the thought of spending the night with you, but he pushes it down hard. Hunter and Tech watch him, their eyes narrowed. Echo feels their stares boring into him and squirms a little under their scrutiny.

“Thanks, cyare,” Echo breathes out. He can feel his ears heating up as he looks up at you. “That would be great.”

“Great,” you smile back. “Omega, can you help me set the table?”

“Coming!” Omega chirps, hopping off her chair. When you disappear into the kitchen, Hunter turns back to Echo, propping his elbows up on the table.

“You gonna do anything about that?” He asks, his voice low.

Echo stiffens.

The others have known for a long time how he feels about you, and while he’s never outright admitted it, they’ve never had to ask. Still, the way they’re looking at him now makes his skin crawl, and he finds himself unable to meet their gazes.

“About what?”

“He is referring to your romantic interest in her,” Tech interjects, still focused on his datapad. At the stunned silence that follows, he glances up and looks between the two of them. “I thought it was obvious. Even Omega has noticed.”

Echo sighs, rubbing a hand over his eyes as he sinks into his chair. He’s been trying so hard not to think about it or acknowledge the fact that despite his efforts, his feelings for you are stronger than ever.

Hunter leans back, giving him an appraising look. “How long has it been?”

Echo hesitates.

“Five months, ten days,” Tech answers.

Echo’s mouth drops open and his jaw hangs slack.

Hunter smirks.

Tech looks back down at his datapad, a slight hint of a smile playing at the corners of his lips.

They all know how long it had been, because they’d all been there for it, and the memories of those first few months after you had joined the team were some of Echo’s fondest.

It had started off small, a quick brush of your hand against his, the two of you sitting close enough together that your legs touched. At first, he didn’t realize what was happening. You’d been nice to him before, of course, but then it was different. It was…flirting.

He didn’t know what to do.

So he kept his distance, and he avoided you, and he pretended he didn’t notice the way your smile fell every time he turned away.

And then you got hurt.

Echo could still remember the feeling of your blood on his hand.

You’d been so quiet the entire trip home, and even when you’d finally made it to the med bay, you barely spoke. It was so unlike you, and he hated it. You were always patching them up, always smiling and joking and trying to keep their spirits up. To see you like that, to see you hurt and vulnerable, it terrified him.

When the others had left you to rest, Echo had stayed behind, unable to bring himself to leave.

Your head had lolled toward him, your eyes barely open.

“Stay with me?” You whispered.

“Always.”

It had been a simple promise, a quiet one, and he’d kept it, through everything, through all the missions, all the fights, and the long nights spent patching each other up. Until he left you behind.

Echo crosses his arms over his chest. His pulse starts to speed up again, his heart hammering in his chest. He takes a deep breath, and then another, willing himself to calm down.

Hunter and Tech share a look, one that speaks of an entire conversation in a single glance.

Tech nods, and Hunter looks back at him. His expression is softer now, almost sad.

He and Echo always got along, were fast friends after their first few missions together. But Hunter is protective of the people he cares about, and that includes the other members of their little family.

Includes you.

“Vod, listen,” Hunter says. He leans forward, resting his arms on the table. His fingers tap a slow, steady rhythm. It reminds Echo of a heartbeat.

He braces himself.

“When we made the choice to stay here, we knew it would be an adjustment, but she…isn’t adjusting. She’s not happy, Echo. She just doesn’t want you to see it.”

Echo stiffens, his spine going rigid. He can feel his muscles lock into place.

No.

You’re fine. You have to be. You have everything you could ever want here, a house, a life, friends. Everything.

It’s everything he has ever wanted for you.

You are fine.

You have to be.

His heart beats faster now, and he can’t calm it down.

Hunter lets out a sigh.

“We didn’t want to tell you this, but…she’s getting worse.“

"Worse how?” Echo asks, his brow furrowing. He feels his stomach start to twist.

“She’s not sleeping,” Hunter says.

“She’s not eating either,” Tech adds, looking up from his datapad. “Though she is making an effort to appear otherwise. Her attempts have become rather sloppy of late.”

“She’s not the same,” Hunter continues. “She doesn’t smile or laugh. She doesn’t talk to us like she used to. We try to reach out, but she pushes us away. Omega’s worried about her. We all are.”

Echo’s mind reels. He could feel it even in the brief moments he’s been there. You’ve been withdrawn, quiet, like you were in the med bay. He chalked it up to his own nerves, to your shock at seeing him, but maybe…

“How long has she been like this?”

“Almost as long as you’ve been gone.”

Echo’s stomach plummets.

“And you think I can do something about it?” Echo asks.

Tech gives him a flat look.

Echo looks away.

The truth is, he isn’t sure if he can. He doesn’t know if there is anything he can do, or if he can make you happy, if you’d even want him to. He isn’t stupid. He knows that the others think you have a connection, that you would miss him, but there is a difference between missing him and needing him, and he isn’t sure which is true.

It’s easier to tell himself you was fine, that you’re moving on without him, and that’s better, isn’t it?

He has no idea.

“Anything is better than leaving her alone again,” Hunter says.

Echo glances up. Hunter’s gaze is steady, firm, and Echo can’t look away. It isn’t often that Hunter puts his foot down about something, but Echo can tell this is one of those rare moments. He shouldn’t be surprised that in his absence, the others have taken a more active role in taking care of you. It’s what he wanted, after all. He specifically asked Hunter to keep an eye on you. But Echo hadn’t expected it to turn out like this.

His stomach churns.

Leaving you alone again?

He hadn’t considered it, but he supposes that’s what he’s doing. If he leaves again and you’re still like this, that’s what he’ll be doing. Leaving you behind.

Abandoning you.

He remembers what it was like, waking up in the medbay after his rescue, the pain and guilt overwhelming him. It felt like someone reached inside his chest and ripped out his heart.

Is he about to do that to you?

Echo doesn’t know if he can live with himself if he does.

“I’ll talk to her,” Echo replies just as Omega reappears with a stack of plates and silverware balanced in her hands. Hunter gives him a final look before jumping up to help her.

It isn’t long before you and Wrecker announce dinner is ready, and they all pitch in to bring food to the center of the table. Echo can’t remember the last time he’s seen so much fresh food: roasted vegetables, tubers, bread, and fish piled high on serving platters.

Gregor and Fireball are good cooks, but their supplies at the compound are limited, with dried spices doing the work to make the food more palatable. This is something else. When he takes his first bite, he nearly moans at the taste.

“This is amazing,” he announces as he meets your eyes from where you’re seated between Wrecker and Omega. You give him a bashful smile before tucking into your own meal.

Dinner is filled with conversation, stories, and laughter. Echo sits back and listens as everyone takes turns sharing your progress on Pabu. He can see why the others enjoy being here. They’re at ease, more relaxed than they’ve been since they left Ord Mantell behind. The atmosphere is light, and he can’t remember a time when he’s felt so normal, so safe.

It’s the most like home he’s ever been.

And then there’s you.

He can’t keep his eyes off of you. He doesn’t stop stealing glances your way, taking in the way your face lights up when you smile, the sound of your laugh. His heart stutters in his chest every time, and the ache he feels for you threatens to overwhelm him.

You catch him watching once, your cheeks going pink as your eyes meet, and he has to duck his head to hide the smile that threatens to split his face.

He doesn’t miss the way Wrecker is hanging onto your every word, his eyes never leaving your face. He feels his shoulders stiffen in response, his hand balling into a fist at his side.

Wrecker is his brother, his vod, and Echo doesn’t want to begrudge him his happiness, especially after what Hunter has told him, but…

He can’t help it.

The jealousy twists in his gut, and he has to force himself to relax. He’s not usually a jealous person. But when it comes to you, he’s always had a harder time keeping his emotions in check, and he knows that his desire for you goes beyond the physical.

You’re beautiful, but it’s more than that. He can see the way you care for each of them, how you listen when they talk, how you make sure to include everyone. You’re kind, and sweet, and smart, and he can’t fault Wrecker for falling for you.

Still, the jealousy that rises in his throat is bitter, and Echo feels a twinge of guilt at his feelings. It isn’t fair to resent Wrecker when he hasn’t done anything wrong. It isn’t fair to resent you either.

You’d asked him to take you with him, and he refused. What did he expect would happen?

That you would just wait for him?

Of course not.

Echo forces himself to look away, his jaw clenching as he shoves his fork around his plate. He tries to ignore the knot of emotions twisting in his chest. He’s being selfish and unreasonable.

The worst part is, he’s going to leave you again, and soon.

As the sun sets, the sky awash with color, the boys disperse to help clean up and wash dishes. It’s only when Echo tries to offer his assistance that he realizes he has no idea where you are. He looks around the kitchen, trying not to panic.

Hunter appears beside him, drying his hand on a towel.

“She went for a walk,” he says, as if reading Echo’s mind.

“Where?”

“The cliffs. Omega says she does it a lot.”

Echo frowns and glances toward the window. “But it’s almost dark. Isn’t it dangerous?”

Hunter shrugs. “She’s fine. She always comes back.”

His nonchalance does little to ease the concern building in Echo’s gut. He looks back toward the kitchen. Wrecker and Tech are arguing over whether a particular pan should be soaked or rinsed. Omega is seated on the counter, drying dishes and giggling at the two of them.

He should stay and help, but…

“I’m going after her.”

He doesn’t give Hunter a chance to respond, marching straight out the front door.

As Echo walks toward the cliffs, he can see a figure sitting atop the rocks, silhouetted against the sunset. A breeze picks up, the sound of wind in the grasses filling the air as your skirt and hair are thrown about by the current. You’re perched on the edge, legs swinging as you stare out at the ocean.

“Cyare?” Echo calls out as he approaches.

“Echo?” You jump, your head whipping around to face him. You’re far enough away that your expression is obscured, but you seem surprised and maybe a little embarrassed.

He picks up his pace. “What are you doing up there? That’s dangerous!”

“It’s fine, I do this all the time.” Your voice is a bit defensive, and Echo has to bite back his irritation.

“You’re gonna fall.”

Echo stops a few feet from the cliff. The drop is steep, and the rocks jut out from the edge at odd angles. The view is stunning, though, and the sun reflects off the water like glittering diamonds.

“I won’t,” you retort, your voice still slightly sharp, and you turn your head back to face the ocean. You pat the space next to you. “You can join me if you want.”

Echo huffs but obliges, carefully navigating his way up to your spot. When he settles beside you, his thigh brushes against yours. The closeness sends a jolt up his spine, and his skin burns where you touch.

He missed this.

You sit in silence for a moment, watching the sun begin to disappear below the horizon. The sky is ablaze with color, bright oranges and reds melting into purple and indigo. The waves crash against the cliffs, their roar echoing off the rocks. It’s a breathtaking view, and he begrudgingly understands why you would come all the way out here to see it.

He sneaks a glance at you from the corner of his eye. You look beautiful, the fading light bringing out the pink undertones of your cheeks. He swallows hard, forcing himself to turn away.

“So, what did I miss while I was gone?” Echo asks, trying to keep his voice casual.

“Not much.” You shrug. “Same old, same old. I’ve been working at the clinic a few days a week, and we’ve been helping out around the settlement.”

“What do you do there?”

“Basic medical stuff, mostly preventative care.” Your hands are tearing at a blade of grass, shredding it into tiny pieces. “I helped deliver a baby last week.”

“You did?” He can’t keep the surprise out of his voice. “How’d that go?”

You smile, your expression softening. “It was amazing. It’s such a special thing, you know?”

Echo’s breath catches. There’s something so open and honest about the way you talk about the experience, the way your whole face lights up, and it makes his heart squeeze in his chest.

“I can’t imagine,” he murmurs.

You tilt your head and give him a look. “What? You’ve never wanted kids?”

“I’ve never really thought about it,” he admits.

It’s true. It’s not like he’s had the chance. Between the war and his injuries, children are the furthest thing from his mind. And even if he did, who would want to be with him? With his prosthetics, and his scars, and his nightmares, he doesn’t think anyone would find him appealing, let alone worth a lifetime commitment.

“What about you?” he asks.

“I’ve always wanted them,” you say, a wistful smile playing on your lips. “Not now, obviously. But someday. A couple, I think. It would be nice to have a big family.”

Echo’s chest constricts.

He can picture it, a house filled with the sound of children’s laughter, the smell of fresh-baked goods. You, surrounded by a group of miniature clones, all smiles and love and warmth.

A future he will never have.

Echo turns his gaze back to the ocean, watching the waves crest and crash against the rocks below. He tries to ignore the pang of sadness in his heart, the tightness in his throat.

You deserve that.

He wants that for you, so badly.

But it’s not his to give.

“Anyway, what about you?” you ask.

Echo startles, turning to look at you. You’re watching him, curiosity in your eyes.

“What about me?”

“How have you been? How’s Rex?”

He’s grateful for the change in topic. Talking about your future, about his lack thereof, is too much.

“He’s doing well,” he says. “He’s getting more involved in the political scene after we helped Senator Chuchi, so I have my hands full.”

“He’s lucky to have you,” you say quietly.

Echo hums.

You both fall into a comfortable silence, watching as the waves crash along the shore. He can hear the distant call of birds, the rustling of the wind in the leaves. It is quiet here. Quiet, and calm, and peaceful.

“Hunter says you’re sad,” Echo blurts out, breaking the silence.

The moment the words leave his mouth, he wants to kick himself. He sees your shoulders tense, your grip tightening around your ankles, and he regrets it.

“I’m not,” you reply, but your voice is tight, and you don’t look at him.

“He says you haven’t been sleeping. That you’re not eating.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not,” Echo says, his tone firm.

“How would you know?”

“Because I know you,” he says, his voice rising. “Because I can see it.”

“You haven’t even been here!”

“So?”

“So you can’t just show up and tell me how I feel,” you snap.

“I’m worried about you.”

“Don’t be,” you reply, your tone cold.

Echo huffs and looks away. “Look, I just want to make sure you’re okay. That’s all.”

“I’m fine.”

“If you’re fine, then why won’t you look at me?”

You sigh, pulling your knees up to your chest.

“It’s complicated,” you reply, resting your chin on your arms.

Echo reaches over, brushing his fingertips against your forearm. Your skin is warm and soft, and he finds himself craving more contact.

“Can you talk to me?”

You finally turn your head to face him. His stomach swoops as your eyes meet his. There’s pain there, a deep hurt that makes his chest ache. He hates seeing you like this, and he wishes there was something he could do to take it away.

“I’ve been trying, Echo. I really have,” you say, your voice barely a whisper. “But it’s hard…everyone seems like they’re moving on except for me.”

“That’s not true.” Echo frowns, his hand finding yours. Your fingers curl around his, and you squeeze.

“No, it is. We’ve been here for months, and they’re starting to make a life here. They’re building a home. It’s a good thing, and I’m happy for them.” You shrug, turning away from him.

Echo doesn’t say anything, and when you don’t continue, he turns to you.

“And what about you?” He prods.

“What about me?”

“Don’t you want to do the same?”

You don’t answer right away, but he can see the way your face falls, the way your lips press together in a thin line.

“Maybe. I don’t know. Do I have a choice?”

“Of course, you do,” he replies, confused.

“Do I?” You ask, your voice wavering. “I don’t even know what I’m doing anymore. I feel like I’m just going through the motions, but it doesn’t mean anything.”

Echo hesitates, unsure how to respond. He wants to ask you to elaborate, but he knows it won’t help. You’re already looking back out at the sea, your shoulders hunched. The sun has nearly disappeared below the horizon now, casting everything in an orange glow.

He wants to press you, to make you tell him what you’re thinking, but he holds back, not wanting to upset you further. He knew this wouldn’t be easy for you at first, not when you’ve spent your entire life running from place to place. He had hoped, though, that being here would be different.

That you could find some peace.

But maybe that was naive.

“You know…” He begins slowly. “After Skako, I felt like I came home to a different world. So much had changed. I didn’t think that I would ever feel safe, or happy again.”

He hears you shift, but doesn’t turn. He is too afraid to meet your gaze, knowing it would break him. Instead, he focuses on the ocean, the way the light plays off the water.

“For a long time, I was angry, and I felt lost. I didn’t know who I was anymore, or if there was any purpose for me. And I’m still working through it, you know? But I found some things that made it a little easier, and that made me feel like myself again.”

“Like what?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

He looks over at you, at the way your eyes reflect the last rays of light, the way your lips part slightly, and his breath catches in his throat.

He could tell you.

He could tell you everything.

How you make him feel safe, how you make him feel alive, how you make him feel like he belongs. He could tell you that the mere thought of you keeps him going, that he’s been replaying the moments you shared over and over in his mind, and how every single one fills him with joy. He could tell you that you’ve shown him what happiness is, that he’d been so lonely and broken before, and now…

He could tell you how he feels, how desperately he’s missed you, how much he needs you, how much he loves you.

But he can’t. So he settles for a different truth.

“The boys. They gave me purpose, and a reason to keep going. They were always there for me, even when I didn’t want them to be. They made me feel welcome, and they reminded me that I was a part of something bigger than myself.”

He takes a deep breath.

“And then I met you. And you reminded me what it was like to be human. To be happy, and to laugh, and to have fun. You’ve given me a reason to hope, and to keep fighting, and that’s more than I could ever ask for. I just…I hope you find something that makes you feel that way, too.”

You stare at him, a range of emotions flickering across your face. He can’t tell what you’re thinking, can’t tell if he’s said the wrong thing.

“You’re sweet, Echo,” you say finally, smiling softly. “I’m glad you’re here.”

He smiles back, but the warmth he’d felt moments before fades, and a cold knot of anxiety forms in his stomach.

It wasn’t enough.

He doesn’t know how to be, or what to say. He can’t give you what you need, can’t make you feel the way you deserve to be made to feel. He can’t protect you, or care for you, or build a life with you.

All he can do is leave, and keep leaving.

He feels tears prick his eyes, and he looks away, not wanting you to see. He clears his throat, trying to swallow the lump in his throat. It’s better this way, he reminds himself, trying to shake the feeling. You deserve more.

He shifts, the movement causing his knee to bump into yours.

“Sorry,” he mutters, pulling his leg away.

“Don’t worry about it.” You laugh, and he can feel the warmth radiating off of you. “I don’t mind.”

The knot in his stomach grows tighter, and he fights the urge to lean into you.

“I miss you, you know. I’m glad you’re back, even if it’s just for a visit.”

“Me too.” His stomach churns, and he wonders if you would have been happier if he hadn’t come at all.

The truth is, he thinks about you every day, misses your smile and the way you always make him feel calm. He aches for you, and his heart aches for you, and he doesn’t know what to do.

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly. “I wish I could’ve been here like you were for me.”

You give him a small smile, and his heart sinks. “It’s okay. You have a new mission. You’re helping your brothers. That’s important, Echo.”

“So are you.”

You smile sadly.

“No, it’s not the same.” You lean forward and rest your cheek against your knee. The fading sunlight plays off the lines of your face, highlighting your cheekbones, the slope of your nose, the curve of your lips. “It’s not your fault, Echo. You’re doing your duty. I’m just being selfish. It’s my own problem.”

“You’re not selfish,” Echo argues, frowning.

“Yes, I am,” you insist and your eyes flash, an edge of anger creeping into your tone.

You sit up straight, looking at him intently. Your brow is furrowed, and you have a stubborn set to your jaw. He’s seen this look before, and it both infuriates him and fills him with an aching fondness.

“I am, and I hate it, and I hate this stupid planet, and I hate how much I want you here.” Your voice breaks, and he sees the tears in your eyes.

Echo opens his mouth, then closes it. His heart races, and his palms are suddenly sweaty.

“I–”

“Do you have any idea what it’s like for me? Every day, wondering if you’re okay. Hoping that I’ll hear something. Anything.” You let out a sharp, pained sound, a mix between a laugh and a sob. “I know it’s not right, but I can’t help but wish you would’ve just stayed here with me.”

Echo’s mind goes blank, the blood rushing in his ears. He can’t breathe, can’t think. The only thing he can focus on is the pain in your eyes, the pain he put there.

“I’m sorry,” he chokes out. “I didn’t mean to–”

“I know,” you interrupt, your voice strained. “I know, and I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“Don’t apologize.” He reaches for you, hesitating before resting his hand on your back. His fingers trace the lines of your spine, and his throat tightens. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“No, I’m sorry,” you reply, sniffling. You pull away from him, rubbing your eyes. You push yourself up onto your feet with enough force that he worries you might tumble over the side of the cliff. His hand reaches for you on instinct, but he lets it fall, curling into a fist on his thigh.

“Wait–”

“We should head back. It’s getting dark.” Your voice is muffled, and you won’t look at him.

Echo frowns, watching as you take a step away from him. He wants to make you stay, but he can’t bring himself to press you. He’s already hurt you enough.

“Are you sure you’re okay with me staying with you?” he asks, standing slowly. He can see the way you tense, and he knows the answer.

“Of course.” You force a smile, and he knows it’s not genuine.

“I can stay somewhere else, if that’s easier for you,” he offers.

“I’m not going to sacrifice what little time we have together just because I want to wallow in self-pity. It’s not like you can change anything, anyway.” You turn away, your shoulders drooping.

Echo stares at you, his heart sinking.

You’re right.

He can’t.

“Just, please stop apologizing. You’ve done nothing wrong, Echo.”

“If you’re sure.” Echo isn’t convinced, but he knows better than to push you, especially after you’ve been so upset.

He waits for you to move, his gaze flicking from your face to the ground and back again.

“If you need me to go–”

“Don’t.” You shake your head. “Please. I’ll be fine. Let’s just go home.”

Home.

He tries to ignore the ache in his chest.

He offers you a hand, helping you down from the rocks. Your skin is warm, your hand small and soft, and he wishes he didn’t have to let go. But he does, and you pull away, the warmth of your touch lingering.

You give him a small smile as he guides you back toward your house, and Echo tries to ignore the way his heart aches.

He’s hurt you. He’s hurt you and himself, and he has no idea how to fix it.

Echo has a hard time falling asleep.

You’d given him some blankets and a pillow, and he’d awkwardly settled in to the too-soft mattress in your small spare bedroom. You’d insisted he sleep there, despite his protests, and he hadn’t wanted to upset you further. Then you’d disappeared into your room and shut the door behind you, and he was left alone.

His body ached from a long day of travel, but his mind was still racing from his talk with you. Your words kept repeating in his mind, the pain in your voice, the desperation in your eyes. He couldn’t stop replaying them, couldn’t stop wishing he’d been able to make you feel better.

When he’s finally able to close his eyes, it isn’t long before he’s jolted awake. He shoots upright, his heart pounding, his body coated in a cold sweat.

Echo can’t remember what the nightmare was about, but the lingering fear that grips his chest makes it hard to breathe. He rubs his palms roughly against his face, taking a deep breath in through his nose.

He can’t stay in the bed. He has to move, to get up and pace and shake off the terror.

Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, Echo pushes himself up, shuffling into the small kitchen to get a glass of water. He can already feel a headache coming on.

“Echo?”

His hand stops midair, the glass halfway to his lips as you step into the room. Your hair is tousled, and the thin straps of your camisole hang precariously off your shoulders. The shorts you are wearing don’t leave much to the imagination, and Echo can’t help the way his eyes drag over the length of your legs.

“Sorry,” he says quietly. He drains the glass of water in one gulp and sets it back down on the counter, hoping that you can’t tell how flustered he is. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“No, I wasn’t asleep,” you say, shaking your head. Your feet pad across the floor and you come to stand beside him. “You okay?”

“Yeah, just had a nightmare.”

“Wanna talk about it?” You reach up, placing your palm on his chest.

Echo hesitates. “Not really.”

Your hand trails down his chest and around to his back, the touch warm and soothing.

“You should try to go back to sleep. It’s late,” he says, and though his body hums under your touch, the ache in his heart remains.

“You first,” you retort, a small smile playing on your lips.

Echo snorts, leaning against the counter. You’re close, so close, and he aches to pull you against him, to feel your warmth and hold you and never let go.

"You're impossible."

"And you're stubborn," you fire back, tilting your head. "I'm sorry you're still having them. The nightmares."

"It's not your fault. I should be the one apologizing, really."

You sigh, shaking your head. "Please stop apologizing, Echo."

"Then, I'm sorry."

You let out a huff, one that could almost be a laugh, and he takes it as a victory. "You're not funny."

"I'm not trying to be," he says with a shrug, but it's obvious he's fighting a grin.

"Then why are you laughing?"

Echo opens his mouth, but doesn't have an answer. Instead, he finds himself smiling wider, warmth spreading through him. He's missed this, the easy banter, the way he can make you laugh and feel at ease.

"You're ridiculous," you murmur, but you're smiling.

He watches you, and his heart aches. You're beautiful, the light from the window illuminating your face. The room grows quiet, and Echo struggles to keep his hands to himself. He wants to reach out, to touch you, but he can't bring himself to move, terrified he'll ruin the moment. He's suddenly very aware that he is standing in your kitchen, in nothing but his undershirt and underwear, while you're dressed in next to nothing.

He shifts, the air thick with tension, and he can feel the heat radiating off of you, your hand still lingering on his arm.

“So, um…”

“Uh, do you want me to make you some tea or something?” you ask at the same time, glancing over at the kettle on the stove.

Echo blinks, his brain short-circuiting as it struggles to catch up with the abrupt change in conversation. It isn’t an unusual question, you’ve done the same for him and his brothers many times before on the Marauder, but it feels strangely intimate in the darkened kitchen.

“Sure,” he says, a little too loudly. He clears his throat. “If it’s not too much trouble.”

“Not at all,” you reply, looking relieved to have something to occupy yourself with. You pull away from him, and Echo watches as you bustle around the kitchen, opening cabinets and filling the kettle.

“I can do that,” he offers, coming up behind you to place a hand on your shoulder. He doesn’t miss the way you stiffen under his touch, and he can’t help the pang of hurt that shoots through his chest before he quickly withdraws his hand.

“No, it’s fine,” you protest, grabbing a couple of mugs from the cabinet above the sink. You move past him, and he catches a hint of your scent, warm and floral. “Why don’t you have a seat? I’ll be right over.”

Echo relents, sitting down at the table and watching you. There’s a quiet elegance in the way you moved, and it reminds him of the first time you’d cooked dinner for them on Saleucami. The boys had been skeptical at first, but after one bite, they’d devoured the entire pot. They’d joked that you were a better cook than you were a medic, and you’d playfully swatted at them, threatening to poison their food if they didn’t behave, and Echo had watched and laughed along.

But it hadn’t been funny. You were so good to them, and they had taken advantage of it, had treated you like a burden, and you hadn’t said a word. He had felt guilty then, and he felt even guiltier now.

After that, he’d made a point of helping you more, of offering to do little things for you, even when you’d insisted that he didn’t have to. But he had wanted to, wanted to show his appreciation for all you did.

He was so grateful for you. For everything you’d done for them. He was so grateful, and so hopelessly in love with you, and so completely terrified of losing you.

And now here you are, making him tea, and he still loves you, and he still wants to hold you, and kiss you, and tell you how much he cares for you, and he’s terrified of losing you again.

So much has changed, yet somehow, it feels like no time had passed at all.

“Do you miss it?” he asks suddenly.

You look up from the tea bags you’re carefully placing in the mugs, the corners of your lips turning down slightly. “Miss what?”

“Being out in the field, fighting, the action, all of it.” Echo isn’t sure why he asked, and he regrets it the second the words are out of his mouth.

You stare at him for a long moment, the silence stretching between you. You let out a soft sigh, closing your eyes.

“Sometimes,” you say quietly. You set a cup of tea in front of him, your hand lingering on the back of his chair as you move.

He watches you carefully as you take the seat across from him, your hands wrapping protectively around your mug. You stare down at your cup, your expression guarded.

“Do you ever think about going back?” Echo asks, trying to keep his voice casual.

“Of course I do.” You look up abruptly, staring at him with a fierce intensity that takes him by surprise. There’s an edge of desperation in your voice, and it sends a stab of pain through his chest. “You didn’t want me to go back, remember?”

He flinches, swallowing hard.

“No, I mean —” Echo hesitates, not sure what to say. You’re right, he’d tried to keep you out of danger. He’d told you that he didn’t want you to follow them, but it had been a selfish request, and he’d known it. “I don’t know.”

“I see.” You’re quiet, your fingers playing idly with the handle of your mug.

He doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t know how to explain the way his stomach lurches when he watches you fight. The way his throat tightens, knowing that one wrong move could take your life. How he’s paralyzed at the thought of losing you again.

It’s too much. He doesn’t want to talk about it, doesn’t want to think about it.

But he has to, or he’ll never get past it.

“It’s just —” Echo pauses, clearing his throat.

“It’s alright, Echo. I know you had to go.” You interrupt, your voice soft and understanding. “I know I didn’t fit into your plan, and I don’t blame you.”

Echo stares at you, a cold feeling settling over him. “No, that’s not what I meant.”

“No, no, I understand.” You give him a halfhearted smile, but it doesn’t reach your eyes.

“You don’t. I–”

“I know I can’t help like you can. I know I’m not like you, or the rest of the squad.” Your voice trembles, and your fingers tighten around the mug.

“That’s not what I’m trying to say,” Echo pleads, desperate to make you understand. He’s struggling to find the right words, his mind racing.

“So, what are you trying to say?” Your voice rises, and there’s a hint of anger in your tone.

“That I was scared.” He blurts out. “I was afraid I would lose you, and I wasn’t ready to admit it.”

You fall silent, the only sound is the ticking of the clock on the wall and the faint hum of the refrigerator. Echo holds his breath, waiting for you to say something, anything.

“Oh,” you finally murmur, your gaze dropping to the table.

“You’re not a soldier. I know you want to help, but —” Echo’s voice cracks. “I thought maybe if you weren’t around me, you’d be safer. You’d have a happy life here, away from danger. Away from me.”

You raise your head, meeting his gaze. There’s a flicker of something in your eyes, something like understanding.

“So you didn’t want me to go with you because you were afraid something would happen to me?” You ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I couldn’t lose you,” he replies softly. “And I’m sorry. I never meant to make you feel like you were a burden.”

You let out a quiet, sad laugh, shaking your head.

“I’m not good with this, uh, feelings, thing,” Echo continues, his voice strained.

“It’s alright. You don’t have to explain yourself.” You take a sip of your tea, your fingers curling around the mug. “You don’t owe me anything, Echo.”

“Yes, I do. You’ve been so good to us. To me. And I haven’t been.”

“Echo,” you start, but he cuts you off.

“No. Let me say this. Please.”

You nod slowly, and Echo takes a deep breath.

“I was a coward,” he says, his voice trembling. “And I was afraid that if you stayed with me, I would lose you. When you got hurt, I damn near lost my mind. I wasn’t sure I would ever get you back. And when I did, it just… it made me realize that I’m not strong enough to live without you.”

“Echo,” you whisper, reaching across the table for his hand. “It’s okay. You don’t have to say anything else.”

“Yes, I do.” Echo takes a deep breath. “I didn’t want to leave you, but I couldn’t take you with us. It’s not safe, and I know you can handle yourself, but I can’t… I can’t lose you. Not like that.”

You squeeze his hand, your thumb gently rubbing over his knuckles.

“I understand.”

“You don’t.” Echo shakes his head, pulling his hand away from yours. He pushes back from the table, the chair scraping across the floor. “You don’t. Because it wasn’t just that. It was also…”

You sit back in your chair, watching him, waiting for him to finish.

“I couldn’t take the way you made me feel. I was a mess, and I didn’t know what to do with it. With you. I didn’t know how to deal with it, so I shut it out. I pushed it away, and I pushed you away. I’m sorry.”

“You had every reason to feel the way you did. What happened to you was terrible.”

“That’s not the point.” Echo’s voice grows louder, and he forces himself to take a deep breath.

“So, what is the point, then?” You ask, your tone careful and measured.

“I…” He hesitates, struggling to find the words. He isn’t sure how much longer he can hold himself back.

“What?” You ask.

“I don’t know. I’m trying, but it’s hard. I can’t —”

“You can’t what?”

“I can’t do this anymore. I can’t keep pretending.”

“Pretending what?”

“That I’m not in love with you,” he says, his voice raw and full of emotion, the confession bursting from him like a flood. He doesn’t even know where the words come from. They’re just there, bubbling up inside of him, begging to be heard. “That I haven’t been in love with you this whole time.”

You blink, a flush creeping up your neck and face. You stare at him, stunned into silence, and he waits, his heart pounding in his ears.

“I don’t know what to say.” You finally murmur, shaking your head.

“Please don’t say anything.” He begs, his voice breaking. “Don’t say anything.”

Echo’s heart is hammering in his chest. The seconds seem to stretch on forever, and he wants nothing more than for the ground to open up and swallow him whole.

“Okay.” You whisper.

The word hangs between you, heavy and unspoken, and Echo wonders if this is how it will always be. If the two of you will always be orbiting around each other, never quite able to meet in the middle.

“Thank you,” he manages, and the words taste bitter in his mouth.

You push yourself away from the table, the legs of the chair scraping against the tile. The sudden noise is deafening, and Echo can’t bring himself to look at you, not trusting his resolve not to crumble if he sees the look on your face.

He hears you move toward him, but he still can’t look at you.

“I’m sorry.” He repeats, his voice breaking.

“For what?”

“I know I have no right to feel this way. But I can’t help it. I can’t help the way I feel about you. And I can’t pretend anymore. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything. I’ll go, and you won’t have to deal with —”

He cuts himself off as you place your hands on either side of his face, your fingers gently stroking his cheeks. His breath catches in his throat as he looks up, finding you standing directly in front of him, so close that your legs are nearly touching.

“Stop apologizing,” you say, your voice soft and gentle. Your thumbs trace the sharp line of his jaw, your eyes searching his. “I don’t want you to leave.”

“Okay,” he breathes, his voice hoarse and his hand shaking.

“Do you really love me?”

Echo nods, unable to form words. His heart is hammering in his chest, and his throat feels thick.

“Why didn’t you tell me before?” You ask.

“Because,” Echo whispers, swallowing the lump in his throat. “I didn’t think I deserved you.”

“You’re an idiot,” you say, laughing softly. “You have no idea, do you?”

“Idea about what?” He asks, confused.

“How much I love you,” you say.

“You, uh —” His brain struggles to process your words.

“Love you. So much.”

“Really?” He breathes, his mouth suddenly dry.

“Yeah, really,” you say, smiling.

“I’ve been such an idiot,” he mutters, and you laugh.

“You have,” you agree, leaning forward.

He closes his eyes as you press your lips to his, soft and tentative. His hand and scomp come up to rest on your hips, pulling you closer, and your hands slide down to his shoulders, gripping the fabric of his shirt.

His skin tingles where your fingertips touch, and a shiver runs down his spine. His heart is beating so hard he can feel it in his throat, and he can barely breathe.

“You really want this? You really want me?” He asks, his voice trembling.

“Of course I do,” you reply, kissing him again, this time more deeply, and Echo’s entire world narrows to the feeling of your lips on his. It’s a desperate, hungry kiss, full of all the emotion that has been building up between the two of you.

Echo groans, his arms tightening around you, pulling you into his lap. His hand tangles in your hair, tugging you closer, and you melt into his touch, your mouth hot against his.

You’re intoxicating, your lips soft and sweet and demanding, and Echo can’t stop himself. He wants to kiss you forever, to taste you and touch you and drown in the scent of your skin.

He’s lightheaded and breathless, and he can feel his heart racing. Your hands roam his body, and Echo feels himself slipping, losing himself in you, the feeling overwhelming.

You break away, gasping for air. His lips chase after yours, and you giggle, pulling back.

“Wait,” you breathe, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw, the curve of his cheekbone, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. “Can I ask you something?”

“Anything.” He mumbles, his hand running along the sides of your thigh, your waist, your hip.

“You promised to tell me what that word meant before you left,” you whisper. “Cyare.”

"Oh.” Echo’s heart stops, the memory hitting him like a blow.

“You never did.” You smile, your nose bumping against his, and he laughs softly.

“You still remember that?”

“Of course I do.” You kiss him again, your tongue brushing over his lips, and he shivers.

“It means, uh…” Echo clears his throat. “It means someone precious, beloved.”

You raise your eyebrows, looking pleased with yourself. “You’ve been calling me that for months. Why didn’t you just tell me what it meant?“

Echo laughs, a short, nervous sound. "Because I’m an idiot, apparently.”

“So you keep saying,” you tease, your fingers dancing along the edge of his jaw, trailing down the line of his neck. “You did have me worried for a bit. I didn’t think you were ever going to tell me. Hunter kept giving me these weird looks every time you said it.”

Echo groans, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. “Kriff, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” you murmur, pressing a soft kiss to his temple. “I think it’s cute.”

“I was such an idiot.” He whispers, his lips moving against your skin.

“I thought it was kind of endearing.”

“Endearing,” he snorts, pulling back to look at you. “Really.”

“Yes. And I’ve missed hearing you say it,” you admit, your cheeks turning pink. “Even if I didn’t understand, I loved hearing you say it.”

Echo leans his forehead against yours, his hand coming up to cup the back of your neck. “I’m going to make up for lost time. You’ll be sick of it soon enough.”

You laugh, and Echo presses his lips to yours, swallowing the sound. His kisses are slow and deliberate, and his hand and scomp press into your hips, holding you close. You sigh against his lips, your fingers twisting into the front of his shirt.

He can’t stop kissing you, can’t stop touching you. His body is humming with energy, and his skin feels too tight, and he’s overwhelmed by the intensity of his emotions.

“Cyare,” he murmurs, his mouth trailing along the line of your jaw, his teeth grazing the skin.

“Mm,” you sigh happily, tilting your head to give him better access.

His lips trail along your jaw, and he nips at your earlobe.

“Cyare,” he whispers, his lips brushing against your ear. You shiver, a low moan escaping from the back of your throat, and Echo smiles.

“I like that,” you murmur, turning your head and capturing his lips in another kiss.

“Yeah?” He grins, his teeth catching on your bottom lip. “I’ve got plenty more.”

He slides his hand under your shirt, his palm splayed out on your stomach. You suck in a breath, your muscles twitching under his touch. You lips part against his, your tongue sliding into his mouth, and Echo moans, his fingers flexing against your skin.

His fingers dance up your side, tracing the curve of your ribs, and your back arches into him, your hips rocking against his. When his tongue dips between your lips and you suck on it, his brain short-circuits, and he thrusts his hips up into yours, his erection straining against his briefs.

“Cyare,” Echo whispers, his voice hoarse. He forces himself to remain still, his grip tightening on your hips, trying to control himself.

You don’t seem to notice, content with dipping your head to brush your lips along the line of his jaw, his neck, his shoulder. “Echo,” you say, and his name sounds like a prayer on your lips.

“Cyare.”

You hum, your teeth grazing his earlobe, and his hips jerk up involuntarily.

“Cyare,” he rasps, his hand trembling, his head falling back as your lips move to his collarbone. His fingers tighten, squishing the soft flesh of your hip, and you let out a low moan, your thighs clenching around him.

He has a brief moment of clarity, wondering if this is too fast, if he’s going to scare you off. But then you are grinding down against him, and he can feel the heat of you through your shorts, and he forgets how to breathe.

“Please, Echo.” You gasp, rocking against him, and his hips roll into yours. Your lips are hot against his neck, your hands roam over his shoulders, his chest.

“Are you sure?” He asks, his voice shaking. “I don’t want to —”

“Yes,” you whisper. You take his face in your hands, tilting his chin up to meet your eyes. You kiss the corner of his mouth, and then his lips, his tongue. “Yes, I’m sure. Please, Echo.”

“I love you,” he tells you, his voice thick.

“I love you too,” you breathe, and Echo loses himself in you.

“Cyare.” He says again, his voice a low growl.

He pulls you into him, and you let out a surprised yelp. He surges forward, capturing your lips in a bruising kiss. His hand slips beneath your shirt, sliding up your back, and you arch into him, your skin burning beneath his touch.

His lips trail down your neck, his tongue darting out to taste your skin, and you gasp, your nails digging into his shoulders.

“Tell me to stop,” he rasps, his breath hot against your skin. Your hips buck against him, and he groans, his hand sliding lower.

“No.”

His hand continues its path, cupping your ass, pulling you flush against him, and you let out a whine, rolling your hips into his. His fingers inch under the waistband of your shorts, tracing the edge of your underwear.

Echo groans, his teeth scraping your collarbone, and your hips jerk against him, your breath catching. His entire body is aching for you, desperate to feel your skin against his.

“Tell me to stop,” he says again, his voice strained.

“Never,” you reply, your breath hitching as he nips at your shoulder.

“Kriff, you’re killing me, cyare.”

You whimper, your nails scratching his scalp.

“Tell me you want me,” Echo whispers, his hand slipping underneath your underwear to grab a handful of your ass. He grips you, tugging you closer, and you hiss as his erection presses directly against your clit.

“I want you,” you breathe, your legs wrapping around his waist. He stands, lifting you up easily, and your arms wrap around his neck, your lips meeting his in a heated kiss.

He carries you down the hallway to your bedroom, pausing in the doorway. He breaks the kiss, his eyes searching yours. “You’re sure?”

“I’m sure,” you nod, your lips brushing his. “Are you?”

He closes his eyes, sucking in a breath. “I just should warn you I’m not…Tech wasn’t kidding when he said I’m more machine than man. I have scars and wires, and I —"

“Hey,” you cut him off, your hands coming up to frame his face. You press a soft kiss to his lips. “If you want to stop, tell me, and we’ll stop. I love you, Echo. All of you. And I’m not going anywhere.”

Echo lets out a shuddering breath, nodding. “Alright.”

You smile, your thumb tracing the line of his jaw. “Good. Now take me to bed.”

He smirks, his grip on you tightening. He leans down, his lips ghosting over yours.

“Whatever you want, cyare.”

You gasp, your head falling back as his lips latch onto your throat, and Echo kicks the door closed behind him.

Your nails digging into his back, you tighten your legs around his waist, and you grind your hips against his, a low moan escaping you. It throws him off balance, and he bumps against the bedpost before turning and sitting down on the edge of the mattress.

He settles you on his lap, your knees bracketing his hips, and his hand tangles in your hair, pulling your lips to his. He kisses you, hard and desperate, and your fingers clutch at the fabric of his shirt, your teeth sinking into his lower lip.

“You should probably take this off,” you murmur as you pull away, pushing the material up. He reluctantly leans back to pull it over his head, then reaches out to help you with yours.

The sight of your breasts, bare and heaving in front of him makes his mouth go dry. You are perfect, your skin flushed and glowing, and his hand slides up your side, his thumb brushing the underside of your breast.

“Kriff, you’re gorgeous.” He your breast in his hand, his thumb brushing across the stiff peak of your nipple, and you moan, arching into his touch.

He dips his head, closing his mouth around the other, and you cry out, your hands clutching his shoulders.

Echo swirls his tongue around your nipple, his other hand kneading your breast. He feels you shiver, your hips rocking against him, and he groans, his cock straining against the confines of his briefs, desperate to be buried inside you.

You are so soft and warm, and you taste so good, and he can’t stop touching you, can’t get enough. His tongue dances over the sensitive skin, his teeth grazing, and you arch into him, letting out a strangled moan. Hhis scomp arm wraps around your waist, holding you in place, and he sucks hard, his tongue flicking across your nipple.

“Echo,” you pant, your hips grinding down against him, seeking friction. He lets out a low growl, his lips trailing over your breast to the other, his teeth sinking into the flesh.

“So perfect,” he murmurs, his tongue swirling around the peak, his lips closing over it. “I could spend all night doing this, cyare.”

Your breath hitches, and you writhe against him, your nails scratching his scalp. He releases your breast with a wet pop, his lips trailing along your ribs, his tongue darting out to taste the salt of your skin. You shudder, your breath coming in short pants, and he can’t help but grin, enjoying the way you are coming undone for him.

His fingers find the waistband of your shorts, tugging them down your hips. You lift yourself off him long enough for him to slide them down your legs, your underwear going with them, sticking slightly to the wetness pooling between your thighs.

You sit naked on his lap, your thighs parted, and he nearly loses it.

“Fuck,” Echo breathes, his hand moving to your waist, squeezing gently. You are soaked, your folds glistening, and he has to bite his lip to keep from coming right then and there.

“What?” You ask, a hint of nervousness creeping into your voice.

“Just trying not to embarrass myself,” he mutters, and your eyebrows shoot up.

“You mean…?” Your eyes flicker down to the tented fabric of his briefs, the growing wet spot.

“Yeah,” he groans, burying his face in the crook of your neck, his cheeks burning.

“That’s kinda hot,” you tease, your lips ghosting over the shell of his ear.

"Don’t get smug,” he growls. His hand slides up your inner thigh, and you gasp as his fingers slip between your folds, his thumb circling your clit.

“Oh!” You moan, your hips jerking forward, and Echo smiles.

“There we go,” he whispers, his fingers stroking you, rubbing small circles around your clit.

Your head falls back, your hips rocking against him, and he bites down on your shoulder, his cock throbbing.

“Echo, please,” you beg, your breath hot against his ear.

He lets out a shuddering breath, his fingers dipping lower, teasing at your entrance. “Is this what you want, cyare?”

You whine, chasing after his hand as it pulls away, and he laughs softly, nipping at the juncture of your neck and shoulder.

“Echo,” you whimper, and his breath catches in his throat.

“Tell me,” he commands, his fingers dipping just barely inside you, making you moan.

“Yes! Please, Echo, please,” you plead, your voice high and desperate.

“Come here."

Echo maneuvers you both so he has room to lay back on the bed, pulling your hand to get you to follow him. You do so eagerly, straddling his hips, your thighs bracketing his.

You grind your hips against his, and he groans, his fingers digging into your hip. His cock is trapped between your bodies, your slick heat teasing him through his briefs, and he has to fight the urge to roll you onto your back and thrust into you.

Instead, he moves his hand and scomp down to cup your ass, lifting you up slightly. He moves his mouth to your nipple, his teeth grazing the stiff peak.

You arch into him, your nails raking down his chest, and he groans, his tongue swirling around you nipple. He moves his lips to your other breast, his teeth scraping against you, and you cry out, your hips jerking.

"Please,” you whimper, your thighs trembling.

Echo releases your breast, his mouth moving to your neck, his teeth nipping at the sensitive skin, and he nudges you higher until you are straddling his chest.

He lifts his head, his lips moving to your stomach. He plants a trail of kisses down your belly, his tongue darting out to tease the crease of your hip. You gasp, your hands clutching at his shoulders.

Echo pauses, glancing up at you. Your eyes are dark, your pupils blown wide, and he smirks, his fingers digging into your thigh. He can smell your arousal, the sweet scent of you making his cock twitch, and his heart pounds in his chest.

“Sit on my face,” he growls, and your eyes widen.

“W-what?” You stammer.

“Sit on my face.” He repeats, his voice firm.

“But—”

“I want to taste you, cyare,” he murmurs, his hand sliding down your thigh.

You hesitate, chewing on your lower lip. Then you slowly shift your weight, moving until you are hovering over his face, your legs trembling. Your hands rest on the headboard in front of you, hovering uncertainly above his head.

“Good girl,” he praises, and your thighs clench. He grins, his hand cupping your ass, and he tilts his head up, pressing a soft kiss to your mound.

He takes a deep breath, savoring the moment. You are so wet, your folds glistening, and he wants nothing more than to bury his face between your thighs and lose himself in you.

Slowly, he guides you down, his hand moving to the back of your thigh, coaxing you to settle against him.

The first tentative swipe of his tongue is almost enough to make him lose it, the taste of you flooding his senses. He can’t see your expression, but the loud, surprised moan when his mouth makes contact is more than enough. You gasp, your hands clutching the headboard, and he does it again, dragging his tongue through your folds.

He moans, his eyes falling closed. You are perfect, You are already so wet, your essence coating his tongue and dripping down his chin. His hand moves from your thigh to grab a handful of your ass, pulling you closer.

His lips find your clit, and you let out a high pitched cry, your hips bucking.

“Echo,” you whimper as he sucks, his tongue flicking across the sensitive bud, and his cock twitches at the sound of his name on your lips.

Echo moans, his tongue circling your clit, and you rock against him, your breath hitching.

“Echo,” you repeat, your knuckles whitening as you clench them around the headboard. “Fuck.”

You’re shaking, your thighs clenching around his head, and he groans, his tongue circling your clit before moving down to slip inside of your entrance.

You let out a ragged gasp, your hips bucking against him. He pulls you down, his tongue fucking you deeper, and you moan, your head falling back. Your walls are slick, warm and tight, and he can’t get enough.

Echo feels your fingers gripping his head tightly as you rock your hips against his mouth. He keeps a steady pace, licking and sucking, and you gasp, your thighs trembling.

Echo glances up, catching a glimpse of your face, and his cock twitches. Your cheeks are flushed, your lips parted, your eyes squeezed shut. He can feel you getting closer, your walls clenching around him. He pulls away, his tongue darting out to swipe a broad stroke up your slit, and you groan, your hips jerking forward. His tongue moves to your clit, lapping at you, and a loud moan escapes you.

“Don’t stop,” you gasp, your hips rolling, seeking more friction. “Please, Echo.”

He chuckles, his hand moving to squeeze your ass. “Don’t worry, I’ve got you.”

He slides a finger inside you, then two, his mouth closing over your clit, his tongue circling, teasing.

“So close,” you whine, your walls tightening around him. “Please, I’m —”

He curls his fingers, sucking hard, and you let out a muffled scream, your hips jerking against his mouth.

Your thighs tighten around his head, your hands gripping the headboard so tightly, and he groans as you come apart, your release coating his tongue and fingers.

He doesn’t stop, doesn’t slow, his tongue and fingers continuing their assault, and your orgasm stretches, drawing out, the waves crashing through you, leaving you breathless.

Finally, you collapse against the headboard, your thighs shaking, your breathing heavy. Echo slowly slips his fingers out of you, and you whimper, your eyes fluttering open.

“Echo,” you murmur, your head falling forward. He gives you a few more lazy strokes with his tongue before letting you move away. You’re panting, your face flushed and covered with a sheen of sweat, and he can’t help but grin at the sight.

He moves you down so that you’re straddling his chest and he can see you properly. You look good like this, your hair mussed, your eyes glassy, your body still trembling with aftershocks.

He wipes his chin with the back of his hand and grins. “Good girl.”

“Kriff,” you moan, bending over to bury your face in his neck. You are still trembling, and he feels a surge of pride, knowing he did that.

“Are you okay?” He asks, his voice teasing.

You let out a low groan. “Shut up.”

Echo chuckles as he feels your lips moving against his skin - planting a series of light kisses along his jaw and darting out to taste the skin just beneath his ear.

His breath hitches, and you take advantage of his reaction, your lips trailing down his throat, biting at the base.

“Kriff, cyare,” Echo moans, his cock throbbing.

You lift yourself up to shuffle backwards, giving him another glimpse at your beautiful, glistening and soaked pussy. His cock twitches, and he can’t stop himself from reaching out to stroke your clit. You shudder and spread your legs slightly.

“Fuck,” Echo moans as his eyes travel down your body, taking in every inch of bare, smooth skin. Your breasts are heaving, your nipples tight, and he can see the goosebumps forming on your skin.

You smirk, arching your back slightly.

“See something you like?” You tease.

“Yes,” Echo groans, his fingers slipping between your folds. “Everything.”

Mindful of overstimulating you, he keeps his touch light, his fingertips just brushing the edges of your entrance, not daring to dip any deeper. You let out a soft whimper, arching your back.

“You’re so wet,” he murmurs, his fingers sliding up and down. “So fucking perfect.”

You whimper, your hips bucking as his fingers find your clit, tracing small circles.

“Again?” You ask, a hint of desperation creeping into your voice.

“Again,” Echo agrees, his fingers moving faster, his thumb rubbing the swollen bud. “I could spend all day doing this, cyare.”

Your head falls forward, your mouth open, and you gasp as he rubs harder, his fingers stroking your clit, his thumb tracing small circles.

“Please, Echo,” you beg, your hips rocking, seeking more friction.

“You’re close,” he whispers, his finger dipping inside you, his thumb continuing its ministrations. “You like that, huh?”

You whimper and shift your hips. “Yes.”

“Yeah, I bet you do.” He slides another finger into you, curling them, and you moan as your walls tighten around him. He can feel the warmth of you, the slickness coating his fingers, and he groans.

“So good,” he murmurs as his fingers pump in and out of you, your hips rocking against him. “So wet for me, aren’t you?”

You gasp, your hips bucking. “Echo.”

He can feel you clenching around him, and he can’t resist adding a third finger. You let out a loud moan, your back arching, and he grins. “That’s it, cyare. You gonna cum for me again?”

You nod, your eyes squeezed shut, and he can feel your walls fluttering around him.

“I wanna see it,” he growls, his fingers picking up the pace. “I wanna see your pretty cunt cum on my fingers.”

You gasp, your thighs trembling, and he can feel the tight coil in his stomach winding tighter.

“Yes,” you breathe, jerking your hips even more. “I’m close. I’m gonna—”

“That’s right,” he groans. “Cum for me. Let me hear you.”

With a low moan, your back arches and your walls clench around his fingers. Echo’s hips buck, his cock throbbing as your release covers his hand, dripping down his wrist and forearm.

“Fuck,” you moan, your eyes squeezed shut, your mouth open, a soft whine escaping you.

“Yeah, there we go,” he whispers, his fingers continuing their movement, drawing out your orgasm.

When you finally relax, your head falls forward, and you let out a low moan. Echo’s fingers slow, his movements becoming lazy, and he leans forward to press a gentle kiss to your temple.

“Good girl,” Echo whispers, his scomp arm wrapping around your waist.

“Fuck, Echo, what the fuck.” Your eyes flutter open, and you look down at him, your face flushed. “That was…what the fuck.”

“Are you alright?” he asks, his tone teasing.

“Yes,” you say, nodding. “Shit.”

He chuckles and removes his fingers from you. You whimper and grip his biceps, digging your nails into his flesh. You both moan at the sight of your juices coating his hand, his fingers shiny and wet.

You reach down and grasp his hand, bringing it up to your mouth. Your tongue darts out to lap at your slickness, and his cock throbs.

“Fuck,” Echo groans as he watches you clean his fingers with your tongue, your eyes never leaving his. His eye contact breaks as you take his index finger into your mouth, sucking and swirling your tongue around the digit.

“Fuck, cyare,” Echo gasps, his cock twitching.

Your tongue wraps around his middle finger, and his hips buck involuntarily, his cock brushing against your thigh. You let out a muffled moan, your eyes fluttering shut, and he lets out a ragged breath.

“Kriff,” he breathes, his eyes glued to your mouth. “You’re killing me, sweetheart.”

You smirk, your tongue trailing down his index finger, then moving to his ring finger. He can’t help but rock his hips, the friction sending a jolt of pleasure through him.

Your eyes flutter open and lock on his, and he bites back a groan. The sight of you is almost too much to bear. Your mouth is so hot, your lips soft and plump, and the way your tongue dances over his fingers has him panting and his cock throbbing.

“Such a good girl.” His voice is low and thick with lust, and you let out a muffled whimper.

His scomp comes up to rest on the back of your neck, and you tilt your head back, letting his finger slide deeper into your mouth. Your cheeks hollow, and he moans, his hips grinding against yours.

You hum in response, and his cock twitches, a bead of pre-cum leaking out.

“Come here.” He pulls you down to kiss you, his tongue swiping across your lips. You gasp, opening your mouth to allow his tongue entrance. His cock is straining against his briefs, his tip pressed against your core.

He swallows your moans as he rocks his hips, rubbing his length against your sensitive flesh.

“I think you’re wearing too many clothes,” you mumble against his lips, your fingers curling into his briefs.

“Oh?” He quirks an eyebrow at you.

“Yeah,” you breathe, tugging at the waistband. “Can I?”

Echo sucks in a breath, his heart pounding. “Only if you want to, cyare.”

“I do,” you murmur as you scoot back. Your fingers dipping below the fabric, and Echo hisses as they ghost along the tip of his cock.

You smile, your fingers curling around the base of his shaft, and Echo moans, his hips rocking, seeking more friction. “Can I, Echo?”

“Let me help you,” he offers, shifting your position so that you are both sitting up.

Echo moves you off him and sits on the edge of the bed. Getting fully undressed is always a challenge with his cybernetics, and things tend to get caught if he isn’t careful. But the way you look at him makes it all worthwhile.

You settle behind him, your hands moving to his back. You trace the scars there, your fingertips featherlight, and he shivers, his eyes closing.

You place a soft kiss between his shoulder blades, your hands moving down to rest on his hips. You press another kiss to the nape of his neck, then another, and another.

Echo’s heart swells, and he can’t help but moan as you move down, your lips trailing along his spine. Your hands slip around his waist, your fingers tracing the scarred tissue of his legs.

“So handsome,” you whisper, and he feels his cheeks heat. “Beautiful.”

Echo shudders, his breath hitching. He’s always been insecure about his body, and you know this. You always know how to make him feel good about himself, how to make him forget.

“Cyare,” he murmurs, turning his head to look over his shoulder at you. You are sitting behind him, and when you meet his gaze, he sees the desire burning in your eyes.

You move around to the front of him, your hands gliding up his thighs. Your eyes lock onto his, your fingers trailing along the waistband of his boxers. He lifts his hips, allowing you to pull them off, and you toss them aside, a wicked smirk spreading across your lips.

You settle between his legs, and Echo feels his heart race, his cock throbbing.

“You’re gorgeous,” you whisper, your hand wrapping around his shaft.

He hisses, his eyes falling closed, his hips bucking involuntarily. Your thumb rubs circles over the tip, spreading the moisture that has gathered there.

Your lips meet his, your tongue sweeping into his mouth, and he groans, his hand sliding up to tangle in your hair. He can feel your grin against his lips, your grip tightening on his cock.

He breaks the kiss, his head falling back, and you kiss him again, your lips moving to his jaw. You trail kisses along his throat, your teeth grazing his skin.

Your hand pumps up and down, your fingers teasing the underside of his cock, and he shudders, his hips jerking.

“Cyare,” he growls, and you smile, your tongue darting out to lick a stripe up his throat.

Your grip tightens, your thumb brushing the tip, and his hips jerk again, a groan escaping him. Your free hand moves to cup his balls, and he hisses, his hips bucking.

“Kriff,” he breathes, his cock throbbing.

“So good,” you purr, your hand stroking him.

He grunts, his eyes fluttering shut, his hips rocking. Your tongue traces his collarbone, and he moans, his head falling back.

“You’re so big,” you murmur, your lips brushing the base of his neck. “I can’t wait to feel you inside me.”

“Cyare,” Echo growls, his hips thrusting up, his cock aching. “Don’t tease.”

You laugh, your teeth nipping at his throat. “Patience, handsome.”

He growls again, his hand tugging at your hair. “I want to cum in that pretty little cunt of yours.”

“Then why don’t you?” You ask, your hand slowing.

“You’re in charge,” Echo groans, his eyes snapping open. “I’ll do whatever you want.”

“I want to feel you,” you murmur, your lips ghosting along his throat.

“Anything you want,” Echo moans, his head falling back, his hips thrusting up, seeking more friction. “Just say the word.”

“Echo,” you whine, your hand moving up and down, your thumb rubbing the tip. “Fuck me, Echo.”

Echo’s eyes fly open, his hips jerking, and he moans, his hand wrapping around your wrist. “Cyare.”

Your lips brush against his ear, and you whisper, “I want to feel you inside me, Echo. I want you to fill me up.”

“I want to fuck you into this mattress, believe me,” he growls, his voice low. “But I don’t want to crush you.”

The thought is almost too much, the idea of you underneath him, your body pressed against his, his cock buried deep inside you, and his resolve wavers for a moment. But his prosthetics are heavy, and the last thing he wants is for you to get hurt. You can figure out the logistics another time.

“Okay.” You assure him, your hand moving up to cup his cheek. “Okay.”

You stand up, and he watches as you move onto the bed, your movements slow and deliberate. He’s just starting to convince himself you’re going to listen to his warning until you turn, maneuvering yourself onto your hands and knees, presenting yourself to him.

Your back is arched, your hips pushed out, your ass and cunt on display for him, and his jaw drops.

“Kriff,” he whispers.

“Please, Echo,” you breathe. “I need you.”

“Fuck.” Echo curses, his heart racing.

You’re so beautiful like this, your ass up, your pussy glistening with your arousal.

“Is that a yes?” You tease, your voice low, wiggling your hips enticingly.

“Yes,” he growls, and you let out a satisfied little purr, watching him as he climbs back onto the bed.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmurs, running a hand along your back. He shifts forward and positions himself behind you, his hand squeezing your ass. “Fuck.”

“Stop teasing,” you say, wiggling your hips. Echo’s cock twitches at the sight, and he guides it between your legs, rubbing it against your wetness.

“Please, Echo.”

You look back at him, and he locks eyes with you as he sinks into you. You’re so wet, your heat enveloping him. Your eyes close, your lips part, a moan escaping you.

His hips snap forward, his cock thrusting into you, and you both groan at the feeling of him filling you completely. Echo pulls your hips closer, his scomp arm wrapping around your stomach. He starts to thrust, slowly at first but quickly picking up speed. Your hands scramble for purchase against the sheets, your head falling forward as he moves. His hand grips your hips, your back, your thigh, anything he can reach.

You feel so good, so warm and soft and wet. He buries his face in your hair, his mouth pressing hot kisses against your neck, his teeth nipping your ear.

He feels your walls clench around him, and he growls, his hand sliding between your legs. His fingers find your clit, stroking it in time with his thrusts, and you cry out, your body shaking.

“Fuck,” you breathe, and Echo grins.

“Yes,” he groans, his fingers working faster, his cock pounding into you.

You’re so tight, so perfect, and he knows he won’t last long.

Echo’s rhythm grows faster, his hips slamming against you, his cock driving deeper inside you. His scomp arm tightens around you, and he can feel you trembling. The feeling of your cunt squeezing him is almost too much, your slick walls tightening around him.

“Please, cyar'ika,” he chokes out, his voice hoarse.

“I’m close,” you moan. “Harder.”

He picks up the pace, his hips snapping forward, driving his cock deeper into you on each thrust. You let out a gasp, your head falling forward as your body rocks, your ass grinding against him.

Echo leans forward, his chest pressing against your back, his cock pushing even deeper into you.

“You’re taking my cock so well, sweetheart,” he growls in your ear, his fingers circling your clit. “You’re gonna make me cum so hard.”

You whimper, and Echo feels your walls flutter around him. Your thighs clench, your toes curling, and he groans, his scomp arm holding you close, his hand still working between your legs.

“Fuck,” you moan, your nails scratching against the sheets, and he can feel you start to shake.

“Yes,” he growls, his cock slamming into you.

“Echo,” you whimper. “Echo, I —”

Your words are cut off with a cry, and your muscles spasm around him as you come. Your cunt pulses around him, and he lets out a choked gasp, his cock pulsing. He fucks you through your orgasm, his thrusts growing erratic. He isn’t going to last much longer.

“That’s it,” he groans, his hips grinding against you, his hand moving down to caress your ass. “Fuck, I’m so close.”

“Come inside me,” you plead.

“Fuck, I’m —” he chokes out.

His scomp arm loosens around you, his hand gripping your hip. “Don’t stop,” you beg, your hand coming down to grip his scomp and guide it back to your stomach. “Please. I want to feel you."

His thrusts become more erratic, his breathing ragged. His hips jerk forward, and he comes with a hoarse shout, his cock throbbing. His cum coats your walls, filling you, and you moan, your head falling back.

For a moment, he’s suspended in the aftershocks, his hips grinding against you, his cock still twitching inside you. It almost feels too good to be real, and he doesn’t want it to end, but slowly, he regains control of himself.

He slides his hand from your hip, letting his forehead rest against your back. He breathes you in, your scent making his cock twitch again. He can feel you trembling, your muscles relaxing, and you let out a contented sigh. He places a kiss between your shoulder blades, his arms coming around you to hold you against him.

His hips shift slightly, and you clamp down around him, a gasp escaping you. He can’t resist the temptation, and his hips rock against you, his cock sliding deeper.

"Oh, stars,” you whimper, your muscles clenching around him. “Kriff.”

“Good girl,” he murmurs, his scomp arm pulling you closer. He kisses your shoulder, his lips trailing along your spine.

“So full,” you gasp.

“Do you want me to pull out?” He asks, his hand cupping your breast, his thumb stroking your nipple.

“No,” you moan, your head falling forward. “Just stay there for a moment.”

He does, his hand moving to caress your hips. He can feel you trembling, your walls clenching around him, and you let out a ragged gasp as his cock pulsates inside you.

You stay like that for a while longer before he finally shifts his hips, his legs aching, and pulls his cock out of you. You let out a disappointed groan as your body clamps down around nothing. He watches, transfixed, as the thick white liquid oozes from you, coating your folds.

“Beautiful,” he whispers, his hand moving down to gather some on his fingertips. He brings his hand up to your lips, his finger pushing past them, and you suck on it eagerly.

“Mmhmm,” you hum, your tongue swirling around his finger.

He pulls his finger from your mouth, wiping it on the sheets, and kneels next to you off the bed.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” Your voice is hoarse, your eyes half-lidded.

“Let’s get you cleaned up.”

“Okay,” you mumble, and he lifts you off the bed. You lean into him, your arms wrapping around his neck as he carries you to the fresher.

You shower together and Echo carefully washes every inch of your body with a gentle touch. You begin to rouse, your eyes becoming more alert, and he can see the blush creep over your cheeks.

“Thank you,” you murmur, your lips pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. You trail your lips over the sharp line of his jaw, and he lets out a contented sigh, his hand stroking your back.

“Anytime, cyare,” he replies, his scomp arm pulling you close, his nose nuzzling against yours.

The exhaustion seeps into both of your bodies, and you towel off before Echo scoops you up in his arms and carries you back to bed, ignoring your protests that you can walk.

You crawl into bed, and Echo wraps his arms around you, pulling you against him. You nestle into his side, your head resting on his chest, your arm draped over his torso. He places a kiss on the top of your head, his hand tracing patterns along your spine. It feels so right having you here, and he wishes it could always be this way.

“Echo?” You murmur softly.

“Yes?”

“I love you,” you mumble, your voice muffled against his chest.

“I love you too,” he says, his heart swelling. “So much.”

“I’m gonna have a really hard time letting you go again,” you admit with your eyes closed.

Echo swallows hard, feeling a tightness in his chest. He doesn’t know what to say. He’s going to have a hard time leaving you again too.

But he doesn’t want to think about that right now. Not when he has you in his arms. He holds you tighter, his hand caressing your back, his lips pressing a soft kiss against the top of your head.

“Me too, cyare.”

“You’ll come back, right?” you ask, your voice small.

“Always.”

You sigh, your hand curling into a fist on his chest. He reaches down, smoothing it out. “Get some sleep,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“Stay with me,” you plead, your eyes opening to look up at him. He isn’t sure if you mean just for the night, or forever, and he isn’t going to ask.

“As long as I can,” he promises, and he feels you relax against him.

It doesn’t take long for you to fall asleep, your breathing evening out, your chest rising and falling. He watches you for a while, his thumb brushing across your cheek, his heart aching. He knows he should get some sleep too, but his mind won’t stop racing.

He is going to have to leave you again. You’ll be alone. Again. It is the right thing to do, and he knows that, but it doesn’t make it any easier. It doesn’t make him want to take you with him any less.

He wants to. Kriff, he wants to. It would be dangerous, but you could do it. It’s selfish, and he knows it, but he wants to have you in his arms every night, have your voice in his ear, your body pressed against his.

Echo closes his eyes, pulling you closer, and takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly. He tries to quiet his mind, to clear his thoughts. He doesn’t know how long he lies there, staring at the ceiling, his mind racing. Finally, he feels you stir against him, your fingers flexing against his chest.

“I can feel your heartbeat,” you murmur, your hand moving down to rest over his heart. Your fingers tap gently. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” he lies, his hand reaching up to brush the hair from your face. “Just thinking.”

“About what?”

“Everything,” he replies, his fingers ghosting along your cheek. “Nothing.”

You prop yourself up, and his arm slides from your shoulders to wrap around your waist. Your fingers brush his cheek, and he leans into your touch. “Talk to me, Echo.”

“What’s there to say, cyare?” He whispers, his gaze shifting back to the ceiling. “I’m here, but only for a little while. Then I have to leave again. I have to go, and you have to stay. And we don’t know when we’ll see each other again.”

“I don’t have to stay here, Echo. You know that, right?“ you ask quietly, and his gaze snaps back to you, his eyes locking with yours. "If you want me to come with you, all you have to do is say the word.”

“I can’t do that to you, cyare.” His voice is low, his jaw clenching.

“You can’t do what?”

“Put you in danger. Make you live in fear again. Make you run from one hiding place to another.”

“Echo, you’re not making me do anything. I want to help.” You pause, searching his face. “I want to be with you.”

“But it’s dangerous,” he protests. He can hear how his voice wavers, and he clears his throat. “You could get hurt. I can’t lose you. I can’t.”

“You won’t,” you insist.

“How can you be so sure?”

“I’m not,” you say. “But I’d rather die knowing I was fighting for something important than live my life pretending it doesn’t exist. I’d rather fight beside you than spend my life wondering if you’re okay.”

“But…” Echo trails off, his mind spinning. He knows he can’t deny that you’re right. That’s part of the reason he was drawn to you, isn’t it? You have a strength, a resolve that few people possess.

“Let me help,” you plead. “I’m not saying you have to drag me everywhere you go, but let me do something. Let me help you. We can figure something out.”

Echo’s mind races, trying to find some excuse to put you off. But the more he thinks about it, the more it makes sense. You are a damn good medic, and if they can find a way to keep you safe, you could be a valuable asset. And, kriff, the thought of having you close again, of seeing you every day, of having someone else on his side…it’s tempting.

“Please,” you murmur, your hand cupping his face. Your thumb rubs soothing circles into his cheekbone, and he can feel his resolve slipping with every touch.

“We can talk to the others,” he finally says. “See what they think.”

“Okay.” You press a soft kiss to his forehead, his nose, his lips, and he sighs, his hand moving to the small of your back.

“Thank you,” you murmur, settling back down on his chest.

“For what?”

“Giving me a chance.”

“Of course.” He wraps his arm around your waist, his hand rubbing your back. He wants to tell you that he will always give you a chance. That he will never let anyone else come between you. That he will always protect you, no matter what. But he doesn’t. It’s too much, too soon.

Instead, he pulls you close, his lips brushing the top of your head. “I love you,” he whispers.

“I love you, too.”

The two of you lay like that for a while, the silence enveloping the room, only the sound of the distant ocean and the chirping of the night bugs filling the air.

Finally, he feels your breathing slow, and he knows you’ve fallen asleep again.

Echo closes his eyes, his fingers brushing lightly over your skin, his heart heavy in his chest. He’s not sure if he can let you do this. If he can put you in danger like that. But, kriff, he doesn’t want to say goodbye to you again either.

He takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly, and pulls you closer, his arms wrapping around you. You murmur something unintelligible, your nose burying into his chest. He presses a kiss to the top of your head, and he hopes, against all odds, that he’ll never have to let go.

#arc trooper echo #echo x reader #tbb echo #the bad batch #tbb echo x reader #the bad batch x reader #tbb echo x you #clone x reader #echo x you #arc trooper echo x reader #clone smut #echo #roy writes #pleasure dom echo! pleasure dom echo!

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delugguk · 1 year ago

Text

is this okay?

pair: jungkook x reader

rated: mature

word count: 1.7k

warnings: sexual content.

Part two.

autor’a note: helllooooooo I know it’s been a while and since I haven’t finished my many fics that I have (I know, k word me pls but don’t, actually skdj) this live (or more like the way he looks) made me go kinda feral for him so I had to do this !! this is compleeeetely unedited because I wrote it super fast and I’m just posting it as it is !! with nothing more to say, I miss and love every single one of you that keep coming back to my stories or just finding out about it, believe me when I say I appreciate every single one of you, even if you’re new!! you’re here for a reason 🫶🏼 thank you for liking my stuff and I’ll be more open to you guys later since I one to make a while make over on this account lmaO, anyways, enjoy and let’s get feral together while kook’s cook his album🤍🧚🏼✨

~*^~*~^~*~^*~~^*~^~*~^~*~^~*~^~*~^~*^~*~^~*~^~*

you blame it on him.

he didn’t had to seat like that, stare at you like that and even bite his lower lips like that. it was something so subtle and you swore his eyes glistened so much, you could almost mistaken them for desire.

but what if..?

no.

you needed to control yourself. you promised you wouldn’t be jumping his bones the moment he called you to make him some company. you know you two are close friends.

but damn.

can’t deny the massive sexual attraction that’s so intense with only doing something so innocent as much as sinful like eye contact.

it’s crazy.

or at least that’s what you think.

jungkook can be complicated at times. but, fuck. you suddenly remember his fainted voice when talking to that girl. “sure, but can you handle me?”. you didn’t know what he or they were referring to, you were just trying to pass by in those big echoing college halls.

of course, you thought about— the worst.

he was fine as hell, okay? to say he isn’t fucking around just makes NO sense.

but the day you met him or—no. the day you two met at that reunion.. fuck. just thinking about it already makes your pussy pop. how embarrassing.

he looked so fine.. he teased you just right.. ugh! stupid hormones! why does it have to be so rich to have sex.. you wanted to fuck him here and there. a little dance could do so much..

“..y/n?”

suddenly you’re back to earth. (with a flaming pussy as we speak).

“yeah?” disconnected, you blink once again. jungkook just smirks.

“I told you, not to worry about it. just come seat,” he pats his side of the sofa, two times. “next to me.”

stupid beanie, stupid white shirt and stupid tattoos.

why does he has to look so cute and fine at the same time? not only that but the way he smelled? a fucking perfect man. who the hell smells that good? it isn’t even a strong essence but rather a soft/sexy one..

“no.” oh.. you can’t help yourself anymore. “I want to seat here.” you said as each of your legs takes place beside his waist.

yep, you boldly seated on top of him. just like that.

it’s not that you do this often but jungkook didn’t seemed to reject your body language as soon as he holded your hips with both of his hands. somehow delicate but oh, so decisively.

that caused a whole electricity run over your entire body to the point you almost felt goosebumps if it wasn’t that already.

just.. how much did you really wanted him? seemed out of limits..

both of your palms rest on his shoulders and there’s no words but an intense eye contact full of temptation, desire.. all of the words you can imagine referencing to the same feeling you both were having right now.

what’s stopping you two? why don’t you move? why doesn’t he move? those were your thoughts until-

“it’s dangerous.” he mutters. you’re just biting your lips.

gosh, you wanted him right here, right now.

“eung” you say, but it sounded a little too sexy(horny) for jungkook’s ears and damn, did he liked that.

“eung?” but as he mimics the way you sounded (just a little more dominant) was enough for you to start moving your hips to his already increasing bulge. mm. it felt good.

you grab his neck as you move very slowly but surely as he looks at you with those dark shiny eyes slightly pulling his face towards the area where your boobs could make contact with him.

he acts fast into giving light, delicate but needy kisses through your also white crop top. the one that can mark how hard your nipples are just right.

you moan a little, more like a very hot exhale that makes jungkook go crazy internally. the way for him to expresses is to squeeze the side of your hips, right enough for you to take your shirt off.

“no bra..” he smirks. “just how I like.”

“mhmm” you slightly moan once again to acknowledge his words.

his hands immediately take a ride feeling you up from your curves, belly, ribs and finally, your boobs. his hands feeling so warm, so right as soon as he touched you. feeling like it could burn, it felt divine. it was to the point where you weren’t the only one that’s breathing so heavy but him.

kissing your nipples felt like heaven, his lip piercing somehow sort of cold made magic so you couldn’t help but take his shirt off, beanie staying on. you wanted him like that.

“I want to kiss you so bad.” breathless, you said.

“do it.” bold enough, he responds. “fuck me if you want. I’ll let you do anything tonight.”

“fuck.” you whisper. “jungkook..” hips intensifying its deep roll, still slow.

“take off your shorts. want you naked for me.”

you wanted to scream. (in many different meanings to it).

he follows you when you obey him so well, but instead of him going naked, he leaves his boxers on.

but you don’t mind, as soon as you caress the imprint of his hard dick drawing on his black Calvin Klein’s boxers. jungkook man spreads giving you the fucking gaze, while patting his well formed thighs and you’re crazy wet at this point. — as soon as you reveal his dick making a pop towards his lower stomach, you could feel yourself almost salivating for him.. and it’s something you’ll normally will feel embarrassing of, but with the way your pussy was crying for him.. yeah, a girl had to do what it gotta do.

“didn’t know how badly you wanted me..” he exhales. “guess I wasn’t the only one, fuck. come here.

pulling you and opening your legs towards him revealed how sticky you were in front of his eyes that jungkook couldn’t help but pass his dick through your entrance without dipping in yet.

“fuck..” he moans. “is this what you wanted? mm. how long were you waiting for this?” giving a little slap with his dick to your pussy. “and why didn’t you tell me earlier?” with hooded eyes, already looking like a mess.

god, was he gone and he hasn’t entered you yet.

you were almost to the point of crying with him barely starting. that’s how horny the both of you were.

“been wanting you for a while..” you’re breathing to exhale. it feels so good. “wanting to feel you just like this..”

“..raw?”

“mh-yeah.. fuck.”

he just stares at your expression for a moment, eyes closed, lips being caught up by your teeth.. pussy sliding so easily around his already wet hard dick.. it seemed so sexy the way you were moving. he wanted to eat you out when looking at you, but his need to finally be inside you was stronger.

“so do I..” he deeply answers as soon as he’s making your hips swallow his entire dick.

“agh, fffuck. it’s more of what I imagined.” he speaks more to himself.

you, on the other hand, was trying no to cum right there. breathing long and slowly to calm your pussy and feelings because somehow.. your heart started to felt as if it wanted to jump out of your body and you swear you could hear jungkook’s heart trying to do the same too.

“move.” he says, giving some gentle, little pats to your ass.

“give me a second-“ and after five seconds, you breathe and start rolling your hips back and forth. all you could hear was your juices having fun.

but the moment you lean into him and hug him with your face into the side of his neck, is we’re things start to get fun and nasty when you actually start to bounce on him.

“fuck yes.” jungkook’s voice rasp into a very hot moan. “‘knew you were good.” he pauses. “fucking lucky I am.” after grabbing your ass and start manhandling you like his personal fuck toy.

“ah-“ a moan escaping your lips, you clench your teeth sucking air to it. “s-so g-good” and it’s just that you speak along marking the secuence of how he bounces you on him.

“mm I’m feeling you close, are you?”

“y-yeah”

—in a moment where you both got to cum, having jungkook fuck you still with his cum innit because he founded so sexy the way your pussy looked so swollen and messy (and how well you take him and squeezed him) having you cum once again, things weren’t so awkward afterwards. it all ended up rather having jungkook asking you things.

“I noticed you got more wet when I started to control your bounces..”

“I.. um, I like when someone sort of.. uses me like that like..” you lower your voice, “I’m all yours?”

jungkook smiles. “oh.. y/n you aren’t getting shy right now, aren’t you?”

“no!” you feel embarrassed.

“I think you are..” he teases.

“shut up.” you roll your eyes.

“don’t worry though. as I’ve said it before things.. turned out to be this way,” you both giggle. “don’t worry. and.. y/n?”

“eung?”

“believe me when I say that this isn’t going to be the last time of us doing this. I will always want this to happen again, and it will.” he pauses. “unless you don’t want me to.”

“okay.” it’s all you say but in reality you can’t explain to him how much do you agree with this because sure, if it was hard standing by his side without doing anything ever since that night or the day you met him.. with today’s events it’ll be even harder to not want to have a taste of him once again.

and again..

and again.

and that’s when it hits you. you never kissed him, he never kissed you and you’re completely screwed.

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matryosika · 1 year ago

Text

Incoming Call

Pairing — Hyunjin x fem!reader Wordcount — 3,394 words Genre — Smut (18+) Includes — Suggestive content. Smut warnings under the cut. Author's note — This honestly came out of the blue. I was just feeling like phone sex and exhibitionism and this is what I ended up writing, haha. I hope you like it, it's just a silly little drabble in which my writer's block didn't get the best of me. I am actually proud I could come up with something, but it's not as filthy as other of my works. Please remember that english is not my first language, so i apologize for any mistakes in advanced! If you wish to support my blog further, please reblog and comment, leave an ask and check my pinned post for my ko-fi!

Smut warnings — Dirty talk. Phone sex and exhibitionism if you squint. Masturbation (m), Hyunjin is kind of a perv but it's very very tame. Use of petnames (baby), mentions of creampies, and other sexual fantasies. Hyunjin is needy and desperate. Reader's mom interrupts the hated moment (not cool!).

Time zones.

By far your most terrible enemies these days.

It wasn't only the jet lag that threw you off from coming back home, but the abysmal time difference between you and your boyfriend —he goes to bed right before you wake up, and his most active time is when you are about to sleep.

It has been a couple of days, but texting with him has been an absolute nightmare.

“It’s only a week,” you reassured him as he waved you goodbye at the airport. His lower lip was slightly pouting, and his usually straight eyebrows were raised in a subtle furrow. “I’m sure you’ll live, Hyunjin”.

“Yeah but I wanted to come with you,” there was genuine pity in his voice and you knew he meant it —he never misses a chance to join you on your trips back home, or meeting your parents.

Because of how busy he has been, and the fact that this trip was practically nonexistent a week before, he just couldn't ask for a time off at work this time.

“We’re spending Christmas there this year,” you tried to cheer him up, rubbing his arm with solace, “time flies by, anyways”.

Hyunjin nodded, resigning himself to the imminent struggle of being hours and miles apart from each other.

“Text me when you get there, yeah?” He planted a chaste kiss on your forehead and held you tightly. “Text me all the time, I’ll reply when I can, okay?”

You nodded against his chest, and kept his promise throughout the whole trip.

You texted him when you got to your home country, and you also texted him a picture of your first meal there. You told him all about the weather, how happy your parents were to see you after a while and the things you missed the most.

He promised he would reply when he could, but you knew that wasn't going to happen any time soon. Or at least not for a couple of more hours, until he woke up.

And basically, that has been the whole dynamic all along —you text him everything about your day at a given time, and he texts you everything about his day at a given time as well. There's very little conversation happening in between, but it's understandable.

By day 3, Hyunjin learned to convert time zones. If it is morning for him, it is late afternoon for you. If it is his late night, you're probably just waking up.

He knows when to text you —if he is expecting a quick response— and knows when you're sleeping. Taking all that into account, Hyunjin tries to make the most of the time that's actually convenient for the two of you to talk.

[08:19 a.m., Hyunjin: Baby]

With furrowed eyebrows, your fingers type away faster than your mind can comprehend it.

[08:19 a.m., You: Shouldn’t you be asleep?]

[08:19 a.m., You: Isn’t it like 11 p.m. in Seoul?]

He is a night owl. Always have been.

But he has been trying really hard to adopt a healthier sleeping schedule, so seeing him online past 10 p.m. it's unusual these days.

“Everything alright?” Your father asks, picking up on the subtle furrow of your brows.

“Yeah, I’m just talking to Hyunjin,” with your phone in one hand, and the other busy with a fork on your breakfast, you await his response.

“It’s such a shame he couldn’t make it,” your mother adds, “it has been a while since we last met him”.

At that moment, when your mom and dad start talking about how great of a guy he is and how happy they’re to have him as part of the family, your phone vibrates yet again in your hand.

[08:21 a.m., Hyunjin: Attachment: one image]

[08:21 a.m., Hyunjin: Can you see how much I miss you?]

If it wasn’t for the glass of water you smartly chugged down to hide your coughs, you would have choked on a piece of fruit. Inevitably, and after a failed attempt to conceal the embarrassing moment, your parents' eyes are fixed on you with concern.

“Sorry,” you excuse yourself, cleaning your lips with a napkin while you relentlessly try to put your phone away from anyone’s sight.

“Are you alright?” your mother asks this time, softly hitting your back

“Yes,” you nod swiftly. “I just- the food kind of went into the wrong pipe”.

On your lap, your phone keeps vibrating —one after another, you lose count after message number 4.

[08:22 a.m., Hyunjin: God, I miss your body so much]

[08:22 a.m., Hyunjin: Just want you here for me. Don't want anyone else to have you right now]

[08:23 a.m., Hyunjin: My hand isn't enough. It doesn't feel like your pussy does]

[08:23 a.m., Hyunjin: Can you come back to me now? Lay underneath me and let me have my way with you?]

[08:24 a.m., Hyunjin: You have no idea how fucking hard I am]

You gulp loudly.

“What do you think?” It's only when your mother directs a question at you that you snap out of your trance.

“Huh?”

“What do you think about spending Christmas in some beautiful cabins? They're like 45 minutes away from the city,” she continues, offering you some of the context you missed because of Hyunjin’s heated messages.

“Uh, yeah,” you reply with hesitation. Not because of the idea, but because you really can’t process anything other than the warmth between your legs. “I- uh, I have to go to the restroom”.

For all he knows, you're lying comfortably in your bed as this is around the time you usually wake up. So damned you, for not letting Hyunjin know that today you are having breakfast with your family at a restaurant. And damned him for putting you into an awkward situation without even knowing of it.

[08:25 a.m., Hyunjin: Can I call you?]

[08:25 a.m., Hyunjin: Want to hear your voice]

[08:25 a.m., Hyunjin: Please, talk to me. Tell me anything you want. Just let me hear that pretty voice of yours]

[08:27 a.m., Hyunjin: Fuck it]

[08:27 a.m., Hyunijn: I’m calling you]

Good luck can’t be any more useful than right now, that you enter the restaurant’s restroom with your fingers crossed and an immense feeling of relief when you see every single stall open.

And, as if on cue, the soft piano melody coming from your phone's speakers tells you that Hyunjin stuck up to his last message.

“Are you busy?” It’s the first thing he says, with a hoarse voice and a hitched breath.

“I’m at a restaurant,” you reply with just a little bit of shame in your tone. “With my parents”.

Your boyfriend lets out an exasperated sigh.

“Shit I’m- I didn’t know, I’m sorry,” you can hear him panicking, maybe because he thinks you're upset. But in reality, it's all quite the opposite. “I’ll call you later just- forget I even- whatever, I’ll call you another time”.

“No,” you rush to say, locking yourself into one of the bathroom stalls. “Don’t hang up, I can- I’m at the restroom”.

There's a quick seconds of silence from the other line as Hyunjin gathers the remaining coherent thoughts after getting to hear your voice. “Is it- are there other people there?”

“For now it’s just me,” you reassure him.

“Just you?” He asks, and you hum in response. “I’m sorry for calling it’s just- God, I can’t spend another day without you”.

The wet, sloppy slow sounds paired with the laziness of his voice can only give you a hint of what he is doing.

“Are you- masturbating?”

It's not like you're a prude, but this whole thing is taking you by surprise. You're always together, so there's no need for phone sex or anything of that sort. Sexting isn’t unusual, but this is definitely a first.

“Yeah,” he replies with a raspy scoff. “Want me to stop?”

“No, I- no,” when you encourage him to continue, the lewd, wet sounds start to become more and more frequent —increasingly loud for you to hear them, “keep going”.

Hyunjin lets out a deep sigh of frustration.

“Do you miss me too?” he asks, biting down his lower lip to prevent any whimpers from falling from them.

“Yes,” with shortness of breath you admit. “I miss you too,”.

“Yeah?” He whispers under his breath, letting small grunts make their way to your ears. “I miss you badly. Can’t stop thinking about you- shit, can’t stop thinking about how pretty you look when you’re naked in my bed”.

The compliments, all together, make your cheeks and body grow hotter. But inevitably, they force you to fix your gaze under the bathroom stall, in that little gap between it and the floor. There’s no sound nor signals of footsteps approaching, but the adrenaline of hearing him say such dirty things when you're out in public is definitely a new experience.

You can't say you hate it.

“Baby,” Hyunjin moans. And although you can’t see it, you can take a wild guess what he looks like right now: head kicked back, legs spread, his hand and dick glistening with lube, or lotion, or maybe spit. You can picture how pretty his face is right now, contorted in pleasure, with his lips all swollen from licking and biting them, eyes completely white while he bucks his hips up against his fist. “Talk to me, tell me about your plans for the day”.

You can’t help but laugh a little in the midst of the tension.

“You want me to- talk about my day while you masturbate?”

“Well,” he scoffs under his breath. “I don’t expect you to say dirty stuff while you’re locked in a public restroom where anyone can walk in”.

“Right,” you nod to yourself. “But I don't understand what that would do for you”.

“I like your voice,” your boyfriend lets out a deep exhale of relief. “I can get off just by listening to it, doesn’t matter what you’re talking about”.

“You’re crazy,” a soft chuckle falls from your lips. “You’re not even going to pay attention to me”.

“Please?” you can hear a small whimper, and that alone convinces you.

“Okay well,” you clear your throat before continuing, wondering how this could arouse him. But he is asking you something that is nowhere near difficult, so you comply. “I’m having breakfast with my parents right now”.

“Aha,” Hyunjin hums, and if you play close attention you can hear his hand sliding up and down his cock. All you're left with is your imagination. “Keep going”.

“I will meet with a friend later, we’re going to grab some coffee”.

Despite the weirdness of it all, there's something enticing about knowing he is using you, in some way, to get off. You're only talking about your day. But knowing your boyfriend is masturbating to the sound of your voice is arousing.

“Then I’ll go back home, get some work done,” you continue. “Think about you, think about how much I miss you right now”.

The line goes silent, except for a mixture of gasps and groans.

“You’re going to think about me?” Hyunjin asks, his silky voice sending shivers down your spine. “You’re going to touch yourself thinking about me?”

“Yes,” of course he doesn't expect you to talk dirty to him. But that never meant he couldn't say that kind of stuff to you. At that, you're at a disadvantage. No matter how turned on you're getting, there's nothing you can do about it and Hyunjin sort of feels thrilled because of it.

“You’re going to fuck my pussy with those fingers of you?”

God, how much you hate him for that. How he talks about your body as if it is his, reminding you that you belong to him and him only.

You only hate it because it never fails to arouse you.

“Y-yes Hyune,” you reply, swallowing thickly. You're aware you can't say anything too obscene, but you still can engage in that kind of conversation without airing yourself too much. “Or should I- use something else?”

“You packed your toys?” your boyfriend lets out a satisfied groan at your hum of agreement. You two are just so alike. “Which one are you using tonight, baby?”

“The transparent one”.

“The transparent one?” he thinks about it for a second, and immediately remembers which one you're referring to. “Thought you were going for the wand because it's your favorite, but I'm guessing you miss feeling full?”

“Aha,” you exhale. “Yes, I- miss it so bad”.

“You miss my cock stretching that tight pussy of yours?” At that, the wet movements become louder. “Stretch it nice and open for me baby, make sure to prep yourself every day for when you get back”.

You bite your nails. “What’s going to happen when I get back?”

The answer is rather obvious, but you want to hear it from him.

“I’m going to make you come until you pass out,” Hyunjin bites his lips and kicks his head back, reminiscing all those times where you’ve come around his cock, fingers and tongue. “Make it up to you for all the days you've been away”.

You can feel the pooling wetness in your underwear, the minimum squeeze of your thighs against each other is a constant reminder of it.

“You miss my lips against your pussy like I do?” he asks, letting out a liberating gasp. “You miss tasting yourself off of me while we kiss?”

“You know I do,” you gulp loudly, caressing your lips with the tip of your fingers. God, how much you miss feeling his against yours.

They’re so soft, and velvety, and they know exactly how to kiss and bite you.

“I’m so close,” Hyunjin announces, and you feel your nipples hardening underneath your underwear at the despair in his voice. “I just- wish you were here, want to come all over your face, and body, make you swallow me full”.

You want to say something, anything, but his words have much of a chokehold on you. You'll give anything to taste him, to kneel in front of him right now and open your mouth wide for him.

You miss his taste, miss kissing him afterwards in between whines and grunts.

“I would grab your hair really tightly,” he explains, increasing the speed of his sounds. “I’d push my cock deep inside that pretty mouth of yours, have you gagging and drooling all over it”.

Between his overwhelming words, and the loud sound of someone barging through the door of the restroom, you mutter a quick "can't talk anymore" before going completely silent.

“Honey, are you okay?”

Shit.

You close your eyes, trying to focus on both parts: Hyunjin’s moans, and the way your mother is standing right outside your bathroom stall.

“It has been like 10 minutes, your father and I got worried”.

Your boyfriend lets out a teasing scoff, one that only you can hear.

“She’s asking you a question,” Hyunjin murmurs, still with a hitched breath. “Aren’t you going to answer?”

“I’m fine,” you rush to say. “Just- having a stomachache”.

“Why didn’t you tell me? I’ve got some medicine in my bag,” of course she did. She always does, ever since you were little.

“Maybe you should tell her the truth,” the voice from the other line calls. “Tell her that you’re busy making me come”.

Immediately, your eyes open like plates and you wonder if the sound of the phone is too loud for your mom to hear it inside the quiet restroom.

“I forgot!” you snap, practically yell out loud. “I forgot you carried those with you”.

“Want me to bring them to you?”

You hear the faucet running, and Hyunjin chuckling slowly. At least she isn’t standing right outside the stall, but you’re still not at ease.

“Y-yeah, please,” on the line, Hyunjin is waiting for the perfect moment to interrupt.

Those two words are enough to send him to the edge. Despite the lack of sexual connotations, hearing you beg for anything it’s enough to arouse him.

“Ah, but I’ll have to bring you some water too,” your mother explains. “Maybe you can have it when you return to the table?”

“No!” You insist, all in an attempt to kick her away from the restroom. “Please, I need it right now. Please?”

“Are you going to beg for me like that too?” Hyunjin groans through the line, not caring if anyone can hear him. Also not caring about interrupting your conversation. “Are you going to open your legs for me and beg for my dick like you’re begging right now?”

You almost choke on your own saliva, but the feeling quickly goes away when you hear your mother mutter an “okay, alright” before walking out the restroom door with a mission of easing your fake stomach ache.

“I almost get caught,” you gasp, only when a couple of seconds pass after she leaves.

“Then hang up,” his shakily breath only tells you he is not that far from coming. Especially after hearing your voice again, pleading for whatever it was you were asking.

“No,” you shake your head. “Want to hear you, please”.

“Want to hear how I come for you?” he chuckles. “Want to her how I moan your name while I come thinking about how much I wish I was fucking you?”.

In a whisper, you hum quietly.

“So dirty,” he is getting closer. “So, so f-fucking dirty. I can tell you’re enjoying this, even while you're out in public. Maybe you'll like it if i were to fuck you right there, while your parents wait for us at the table?”.

You cover your mouth in surprise, trying to muffle a gasp.

“I would love to come inside you right now, pull up your panties and force you to spend the rest of the day with my cum leaking out of you,” he lets out another loud, choked groan before continuing to elaborate on the fantasy. “You'd be so wet, you wouldn't know if you're turned on or it's just my cum”.

“You’re insane,” you whisper under your breath.

“Yeah?” Hyunjin asks teasingly, slurring his words in between moans. “I know you are too, baby. I don’t even need to take a look at you to know you’re probably dripping just by my words, right?”

Damned him.

“And I know I’m not too out of my mind when I say you would let me fuck you right then and there, where everyone could hear you and anyone could walk in,” at that, the lewd noises increase. “Might even let me finger you underneath the table, right? Bet you would love to have my fingers deep inside you while you try to pretend you don’t”.

Oh you're definitely going to cancel all your plans for the day. Might even book an early fly.

Anything, just to see him soon.

“God,” Hyunjin exhales, and it’s between quiet moans that you realize he is coming. “F-fuck, ‘m coming so fucking much”.

You can picture it. His tone abdomen all glistening with sweat and cum, shining brightly underneath the dim light of your room. His cock is probably red, and swollen, and twitching while he overcomes his high.

Fuck, damned be Hyunjin for making you ruin your panties this early in the morning.

“So much,” he repeats, fingers trailing the lines of his abdomen as he collects his arousal off of it. “Too sad it went to waste, I would’ve preferred to fuck it back inside of you”.

“I hate you,” you finally breathe, both in relief and frustration. “I hate how much I miss you”.

“Then come home soon,” your boyfriend pouts.

And honestly? You might.

#stray kids smut #skz smut #kpop smut #hyunjin smut #hwang hyunjin smut

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