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pimosworld · 1 year ago

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The story of us chapter 7

Pairing-Triple Frontier boys x f!reader

Chapter summary-Santiago is forced to make a decision.

CW- 18+,MDNI,Explicit. A link will be posted going forward to avoid spoilers.

WK-5.8K

Notes-See series master list for full story notes. This is the chapter that started it all. Santiago the final boss. Also mentioned is hc that Pope has a nightlight thanks to @melodygatesauthor link.

[Series Masterlist][Main Masterlist]

Not beta read

Chapter VII Weak in the knees

———————————

You stretch comfortably relishing in the softness of your sheets. Rarely do you have the chance to indulge in uninterrupted slumber. You know all too well the nightmares that plague you and your boys from years in the service and the events in Colombia.

Your ex never had much of a tolerance for helping you through them, often jostling you awake to stop your soft whines. Being horribly ripped from your nightmares was better than having to sleep through them when he opted to head to the couch instead.

Despite sleeping alone, it was much more peaceful knowing you had someone who truly cared for you. As though the universe could read your mind you can feel the light buzz of your phone under your pillow. Your stomach flutters at the prospect of which one could be calling you this early in the morning.

Ben’s face lights up your screen, a photo you took of him after his first knockout win, you’ve never seen him happier than he was in that moment. Surrounded by all the people he loved most doing the thing he was so passionate about.

Good morning honey. You want to scream into your pillow at his sleepy deep voice but you calm your nerves and do your best to reply.

“Good morning babe.”

If you call me babe again I’m driving over there right now. It’s not surprising that you’re having the same effect on him but it makes you happy all the same.

Listen I know it’s last minute but I wanted to invite you to my fight tonight. It’s out of town so we’re spending the night.

“Sorry I promised some coworkers I’d go out tonight for their birthday.”

Be safe please and call Santi if you need anything.

“Oh…he’s not going with you?”

No it’s just me,Fish and Will. Santi said he was busy but he’s probably just gonna sulk in his apartment.

You decide not to pry into what that means. You knew he needed his space from time to time so it wasn’t out of the ordinary.

“Good luck tonight babe. I’ll see you guys when you get back.” You giggle at the groan he lets out on the other end.

You’re a tease, you know that.

You hang up smiling down at your phone. You know the two of you could spend an ungodly amount of time talking about nothing and arguing about who should hang up first. You roll over clutching the phone to your chest wondering how you got so lucky. Maybe this was just a dream that you’d wake up from one day but for now you’d enjoy it in whatever form it came.

****

You don’t remember the last time you had this much fun dancing. It was true that you had neglected several relationships in lieu of that asshole and you were grateful that you hadn’t completely ruined those connections.

You’re on the dance floor with the birthday girl and a few other coworkers when you glance over at the bar. The floor feels like it’s going to give out as all the air leaves your lungs. Maybe it was the drinks or your mind playing cruel tricks on you but you swear you saw your ex.

“You ok hon.” Angela yells over the music in your ear bringing you back to the moment.

“Ya…I think I just need to sit down for a minute.” You walk to the table on shaky legs as you try and get a grip on reality.

You needed to calm down, it probably wasn’t him. Even if it was, he had every right to be in this public place. You’re trying to silence the alarm bells in your brain telling you he was following you. Ptsd does horrible things to your mental state. You’re trying to remember some of the things Will told you. Ground yourself, 4 things you can touch,3 things you can hear,2 things you can smell, 1 thing you can taste.

This is quite possibly the worst place to ground yourself. All you can feel is the stickiness of the table in front of you, you can’t hear anything beyond the music and the loud voices echoing over it. The smell of cheap liquor and heavy cologne permeate your senses and the last thing you want to taste right now is the watered down drink that was left unattended while you were dancing.

Your chest is getting tight and the bar seems to be darker than it was 5 minutes ago. You have to get out of here.

You don’t want to bother Santi and you don’t think you could even wait long enough for him to arrive before you pass out from a full blown panic attack.

You pull out your phone to call an Uber and head outside as you text your friends that you were feeling sick and had to leave. You hover close to the bouncer outside as you wait briefly for it to arrive.

The humid air outside does nothing to calm your nerves as the small black sedan pulls up and you double check the license plate to make sure it’s your driver.

You take the first deep breath in a while as you enter the car and an older woman offers you her name and smiles.

You can feel the soft cloth seats beneath your fingers and the cool metal of the buckle as you secure your seatbelt. You set your phone and purse down beside you as you rest your head back against the seat. You can hear the ac blasting, the sounds of the soft jazz on her radio, the thrumming of the car's engine. It smells like a new car and her fresh pine air freshener she has hanging on the rear view mirror.

“I have some water in a cooler back there if you want some hon.” You open your eyes and try to choke back the tears that have been threatening to spill since you left the bar. It’s not like she knew your nickname, it's just a term of endearment.

“Thank you.” You gratefully accept the water as your panic subsides, thanking whoever out there sent your guardian angel to pick you up.

You don’t know when you closed your eyes again but a bright flashing light startles you awake. You can tell you’re almost home as you try and gain your bearings but the vehicle behind you is so close it’s impossible to see.

“Excuse my language but this person is driving like an asshole.” You chuckle at the older woman’s response as the car pulls around you speeding aggressively by.

“Almost home hon…” She smiles sweetly to you in the mirror as you try to school your expression. You’d recognize that truck anywhere and suddenly your suspicions from the bar were all but confirmed.

Fuck

****

Just pick up the phone and call her, if only it were that simple for Santiago as he sits alone in his apartment staring down at the blank phone screen like it’s going to spontaneously call you.

Will's words echoed in his mind, playing on a constant loop. Why was he denying himself happiness? That stubborn part of his brain always goes to the worst case scenario. If it doesn’t work out he could lose you forever.

Somehow he forgets how many times he’s been here before with you. He won’t admit to the guys how many times you’ve waded into that territory. You confessed your love so many times only to be met with his stupid avoidances or the casual ‘ love you too’.

Everything was different after Colombia, after that night you spent in the hotel just holding each other. No words were spoken but feelings were exchanged. In true Santiago fashion you returned to the states and he acted as if nothing had happened. You didn’t want to admit how much it broke you.

He was always running from his feelings but he kept your heart on a string from the moment you met. The string would get closer or further away depending on how he was feeling but that was the closest it’s been to snapping.

He could say what he wanted about the other guys but he broke the rules more than anyone. Always toting the line of no one can have you if I can’t. He never made an attempt over the years to like your boyfriends, it didn’t bother you much, you knew how protective he was in more ways than one.

You however would do your best to like his girlfriends or the ones that actually stuck around for more than a month. He would find some excuse to break it off when she started getting too close to the group. Any serious relationship threatening what you had made him feel uneasy.

Little did you know he could never have someone he loved so close to someone he was pretending to love.

After Colombia he thought you were just coping like you usually did. Find some shitty guy for a few weeks to occupy your mind and then everything would go back to the way it was. You stopped responding to texts, stopped showing up to the bar, stopped showing up to Benny's fights. Maybe this time he finally pushed you over the edge. Into the arms of someone unworthy of your love and genuine kindness.

He could call himself a hypocrite for even having these thoughts. He was too stubborn for that. He couldn’t see that he was being just as shitty to you as any of the guys you’ve dated. He wouldn’t commit but he wouldn’t let you get far enough to forget that he was an option.

Why couldn’t he just say he loved you?

The night before they confronted Mike was the first panic attack he’d had in a very long time. His chest was growing tighter each time he couldn’t see you, his emotions threatening to boil over and affecting his daily life. He couldn’t focus or think about anything besides you.

He didn’t regret coming over, but everyday since then not telling you how he truly felt was making the gaping hole in his heart even bigger. He convinced himself that he would just bide his time until the whole thing blew up in their faces. Now seeing you all so happy including Will he was starting to feel like an outcast.

Incoming call

“Santi…I didn’t know who else to call.” Your frantic voice on the other line has him in full blown panic.

“Are you okay, what’s happening?” Silence on the other end. His feet are taking him out the door before he knows what’s happening.

“Talk to me cariño.”

“I’m sorry I dropped my phone…I was out with some friends and I thought I saw him at the bar but I couldn’t be sure but just now I think he drove by my house.”He can hear your sniffles and heavy breathing and the faint sound of keys.

“Are you sure?” He doesn’t even need to ask who you’re referring to.

“Santiago, have you seen his truck!” Of course the most obnoxious monstrosity known to man that screams I’m a douchebag.

“Yes I’m sorry, I’m on my way right now, stay put.”

“I’m coming to you-.”

“No, you’ve been drinking, make sure the doors are locked and grab your gun. I’ll be there in 5 minutes.” You know he lives at least ten minutes away but you don’t doubt he’ll be here in 5.

“Stay on the phone with me please.” You’ve never heard him so desperate in your life. You almost feel bad for calling him until you see the signature camo wrap truck slowly driving by your house.

You run to your room and open the closet, placing your finger on the lock box where your gun is held. It’s always loaded but you never thought you might have to use it on someone you know.

In all your years of training, an elite special ops soldier. The first time in your life not being looked at as a woman who managed to climb this high but a person with a certain skill set that was unmatched for most. You had the steadiest hands but right now your hands are shaking as you stare at the gun knelt in your closet.

You can hear the front door open and you quickly place the gun back in the lock box. His heavy footsteps echo down the hall as he reaches your room before you can stand from your floor.

He drops to his knees as he grabs you, pulling you into him.

“Santi your knees.” He sits back surveying you as if you were an illusion in front of him.

“I don’t give a shit about my knees, are you okay?”

Your immediate reaction is to say no, no you’re not okay because all you want to do right now is kiss him and that would be highly inappropriate given the current circumstances.

“Yes…I’m fine.Can you stay with me tonight?”

You can see the wheels turning in his head. Is he contemplating what you just asked or questioning why he’s even here in the first place?

“No…we should go to my place. He doesn’t know where I live and I would sleep better if we weren’t here.”

You don’t take long to grab a few things and head out. Santi double and triple checking that he locked your door as you make your way to his jeep. Your street is eerily quiet as you look it over wondering if he was bold enough to drive down it.

He opens the door for you as you briefly lock eyes. There’s so much unspoken between the two of you, you haven’t been alone with him in months and you can feel the tension rolling off your body.

He holds your hand the entire way to his apartment. He can barely keep his eyes on the road as he stares back and forth between you and the rearview mirror. As much as you enjoyed being in his company you couldn’t escape the nagging feeling of him ignoring you for days.

“I’m going to put up some extra surveillance outside your house this week. It would make me feel better.”

You contemplated your next words. Arguing with them when they had their mind set on something never went well for you and you didn’t want to push him away for being helpful.

“Thank you, I would really appreciate it.” He looks over at you like he half expected you to protest and now he’s stuck. There was no rebuttal, no back and forth. You simply just agreed to let him help you.

****

Maybe it was the horrible lighting in Santi’s spare bathroom or the fact that you were crying and smeared your makeup before he got to your house, but you’ve definitely looked better.

You splash some water on your face and fix your hair as best you could. Your nerves were shot from the events of the night and being here in his apartment with this tension boiling below the surface has you a little on edge. In your panic you didn’t realize you grabbed one of his shirts to change into along with your sleep shorts.

It would have to do since you couldn’t spend the rest of the night in your dress and the world's most uncomfortable bra. You give yourself a final once over before stepping out into the living room. He was seated on the couch with his arm draped over the back and his legs spread wide in a relaxed state.

You thought he might want to go to bed with how late it was and you would just sleep on the couch but you can feel your heart rate picking up at the prospect of actually getting to talk to him.

He turns around as he senses you, his body tenses slightly as his eyes trail down your form. He doesn’t know if you’ve always been this beautiful or if it’s you in his shirt, legs exposed and fresh faced. Emerging from his bathroom smiling at him like it’s some domesticated thing you do everyday.

“If you’re tired you can sleep in my bed but we can watch a movie if you want to stay up a little.” His eyes flit back and forth between your face and your body.

“First of all I’d love to watch a movie and second of all I’m not taking your bed Santiago.” He lets out a frustrated sigh as he pats the space next to him.

“How many of my shirts have you stolen?”

“Borrowed…a few.” You sit next to him just close enough to touch legs but still giving him space.

“So which Star Wars are we watching this time?” He leans forward to grab the remote and pulls you into his side as he gets comfortable again.

“Empire strikes back?” You knew that wasn’t his favorite but you figured tonight he was either feeling sorry for you or extremely generous.

“Fine…only because I love you .” He didn’t mean it like that so just calm down.

You watch the movie as you usually do-with much commentary from Santi about how messed up the order is and if he was a Jedi he would have more self control. Blah blah blah. You’ve heard it a thousand times but it still makes you laugh with how serious he is about it.

His heart is aching for you, as you genuinely laugh at his jokes that he knows he’s bored you with before. Your giggles echo through his body as your head is laid on his chest. All the worries of the night or the next day melting away with every minute that passes you by.

If every night was like this he could die a happy man. You curled up next to him, in his shirt,going to sleep in his bed…with him. Except it’s not, he’s fantasizing about things that aren’t real, it’s almost too much as you look up at him sweetly. Your lips are so close to his as his breath fans hot against yours. Why can’t he just shut his brain off.

He stands abruptly from the couch almost knocking you over. You watch him stomp towards the kitchen unsure of what just transpired. You were certain he was going to kiss you. How could you have misread that?

You were sick of this tip toeing around him and dealing with his mood swings. You traipsed after him determined to figure this out.

“Is everything okay?” He’s facing away from you as he grips the counter top staring out the kitchen window into the darkness.

“No.” His hands shake slightly as he grabs a glass to fill with water from the tap.

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

“No.” You didn’t think the tension boiling over all night would result in this but you’ve had it with him.

“What’s your problem Pope?!” He turns to look at you, his pupils are blown wide and you’ve only ever seen him look like this on intense missions.

“You!…you’re my problem.” You’re trying desperately to swallow the lump in your throat,fighting back the tears that he did not get to see you shed.

“Maybe I should go.I don’t want to ruin your night any further.” You turn to head towards the bathroom to gather your things. This was a mistake calling him,you pushed your luck thinking this would work.

“You know what there is something you can do for me.” He’s practically yelling as you spin on your heels.

“Please enlighten me.”

He stalks towards you until you’re backed against the wall. His face is so close to yours as he places his hands beside your head, his chest is heaving against you as you search his eyes for an answer.

“You can stop looking at me like that, stop being so perfect, stop wearing those jeans that make your ass look great-.”

“Santiago.” He places his fingers on your lips.

“Stop saying my name like a goddamn prayer.” His eyes are feral and you don’t chance interrupting him again because his brain might catch up with his mouth and he’ll stop saying everything you’ve wanted to hear since the day you met him.

“Stop consuming my sleep and waking thoughts.” He drops his forehead to yours as he tries to catch his breath. “Stop making me love you.” His eyes are so tightly shut it pains you.

“Stop anticipating my every move because you can read me like a fucking book.” You bring your hands to his face willing him to look at you.

You don’t even remember when your tears started flowing. “Santi I love you too.”

“Just stop.” His voice is hoarse and barely above a whisper.

“Listen to me, I love you.” He finally lets the damn break as he takes in your words. You kiss his cheeks and taste the salty tears rolling down.

“I won’t stop doing any of those things, because I love-.”

He cuts your words off with a bruising kiss as he cups the back of your neck. The forceful yet tender pressure of his lips against yours sends a jolt of electricity through your body.

“Tell me what you want cariño.” He pants into your mouth as you both steal breaths from each other.

“I want you.”

“You’ve had me for longer than you know.”

Your fingers trace the outline of his jaw as you hang in this moment. The anticipation in the air is palpable as he grabs your hand and leads you down the dimly lit hallway. Each step feels like a heartbeat, synchronized with the rush of emotion coursing through you.

As you enter his bedroom the soft glow of his night light casts shadows among the room. You can still make out his sickeningly beautiful face as he traces a delicate path down your arm, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

He grabs the hem of your shirt slowly raising it up above your stomach and you take a deep breath as he pulls it over your head. Your nipples harden as they’re exposed to the cold air of the room and he inhales sharply.

“You’re beautiful.”

“I want to see you.” He quickly removes his shirt revealing his tan toned body. Your fingertips lightly trace the scars across his chest that you’ve seen so many times before.

He dips his head to your neck,his lips ghost over your pulse point as he hooks his fingers in the waistband of your shorts. As he slides them down he drags his tongue along your chest, kissing the valley between your breasts as he comes face to face with your mound.

You silently curse yourself that he’s on his knees again for you but you’re only momentarily upset as he lifts your leg over his shoulder. Your breathing has picked up as he places soft kisses along your thigh. He growls at the sight of your dripping folds as his finger teases through your slit.

He licks a stripe so slow your knees almost buckle but he has a firm grip on your thigh. You whimper above him and grip his hair as he blows cold air onto your exposed mound.

He laps at you hungrily as his tongue circles your clit. You’re soaking his face as he licks and sucks like it’s the only thing he’s wanted in the world. He can tell you’re close as your grip tightens in his hair pulling him into you.

“Santiago-“ Your name on his lips while he’s buried in your cunt has his cock straining in his jeans.

“Say it again.”

“Santiago…please.” His nose grinds against your clit as his tongue prods your entrance,you’re a whimpering mess as you gush into his mouth. He lets out a deep groan into your pussy taking down every drop as you fight to stay standing.

He grips your hips as he lowers your leg,he stands before you crashing his lips to yours as he licks your bottom lip. You can taste yourself on his tongue and it’s primal the way it makes you feel. He’s all over you like you could change your mind at any moment and he wants to claim as much as he can before it’s over.

His eyes go wide as you push him back onto the bed. You wondered how often he let himself relinquish control and the sight of him laid out in front of you has a fresh wave of slick coating your thighs.

You slowly unbuckle his jeans as he lifts his hips for you, never breaking eye contact. His thick cock bobs against his stomach as you pull his jeans and boxers off. You’re practically drooling as you run your hands up his thighs. He shivers beneath you as you take him in your hand stroking him lazily. You trail your thumb at the tip collecting the precum steadily leaking out.

He’s gripping the sheets as he lets out a string of English and Spanish curses under his breath. He gently grabs your hand and he looks like he’s fighting with himself to keep it together.

“Please…I need you.” Santiago Garcia is begging for you.

You both have done enough teasing for a lifetime and you won’t make him beg any longer. You straddle his thighs on the bed as you line your entrance with his cock. He grips the base and guides you as you sink down onto him.

You both still for a moment as you catch your breath. He has a firm grip on your waist as you give an experimental roll of your hips. “Oh fuck.” He’s moving you back and forth in rhythm and you’ve never felt so full. You brace your hands on his chest as you pick up the pace.

You look like a goddess above him as he watches you ride him. Your noises and chants of his name only spur him on further. He sits up wrapping an arm around your waist and you clench down on him hard as he bounces you on his cock. “Fuck this pussy’s so tight.”

“Santi..oh.. my god.” He’s going to see god if you don’t stop saying his name like that.

Your arms wrapped around the back of his neck as you drop your head to his shoulder. He thrusts his hips up as he slams you down and your vision goes white as he punches something deep inside. You bite down hard on his shoulder as you come down from your climax sending him over the edge. A loud groan rips through his chest as he buries his face in the crook of your neck. Your pussy clenches with aftershocks as he pulses in your dripping cunt.

“That was….” He’s panting on your chest as you nod your head. You can’t even begin to attempt words but he knows what you’re feeling.

You both let out a long sigh that perhaps you’d been holding for an eternity. You both burst out into laughter at the ridiculousness of it all.

He rolls you over and pulls out, he spreads your legs wide watching your combined spend dripping out of you. You knew he was possessive but this is a side of him that has you wanting more.

“Stay here,I’ll be right back.” You never thought you’d be in this position as you watch his perfect ass walk towards his bathroom.

The water runs briefly before he returns with a washcloth, carefully cleaning your thighs and your swollen folds.

A brief moment of insecurity flashes through you. As if he can sense it, he leans over you planting a soft kiss to your forehead.

“Under the covers miel, we need to get some sleep.” He pats your thigh playfully as you scramble back to get comfortable.

He slides in next to you, pulling you up on his chest. You can feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat against your cheek as you start to drift off to sleep.

He can faintly make out your quiet giggles as he struggles to keep his eyes open.

“Something funny?” You shift slightly to look up at him, it’s hard to see in the darkness but he looks so relaxed.

“Yes…the nightlight I got you.”

“Mhmm.” He rubs your arm trying to stay awake but your soft warm skin pressed against him is winning the battle.

“I didn’t think you’d use it.” He may not need it anymore if he can have you like this.

“It helps me in the dark.” Just like you.

****

The soft morning light is peeking through the blinds in his room. You look over to see his face buried in the pillow and his arm draped across your stomach.

The old analog clock he refused to get rid of from your military days says it’s far too early to be getting your day started. You turn over on your side to chase the warmth of his body and hopefully get a few more hours of restful sleep.

A small folded paper on his nightstand catches your eye. It looks like it’s been handled quite a bit and a black ball point pen is strategically placed next to it. You often wondered what Santiago thought about while sleep eluded him and your curiosity is getting the best of you.

You slowly reach out trying not to disturb the gorgeous man behind you. Just as your fingers reach it he pulls you back into him. You hold your breath for a moment and then hear the light snores again.

Of course he made a pros and cons list.

Pros

Not being alone

Protection

Shared experiences

More of your needs met

No boredom

Sex

Group sex?

Children? 4?

Cons

Jealousy

Living situations

Outside judgment

Parents

Keeping the friendship intact

Splitting your time

Group sex

Children

Heartbreak

The list was nothing if not precise and a little funny. You definitely had some questions but it didn’t upset you. Santiago was rational, logical and very analytical. It’s hard to snap out of something that was your job for the better part of your adult life.

He couldn’t open his heart up without thinking of every possible scenario. That’s what attracted you to them in the first place. They were all so different and you could practically see the wheels turning in his brain.

You’ve already been partners for years essentially without the sexual aspect. It took a lot of trust to put your life in someone’s hands and you all have done that a hundred times over. The hard part for him it seemed was what came next.

Everything on both lists makes complete sense. You noticed he crossed out parents since most of you either didn’t have much of a relationship with them or you didn’t care what they thought of your lives.

“How much of that have you read?” His sleepy voice in your ear startles you.

“Jesus Christ Santiago.” You roll over to face him as he peers at you through his thick curly lashes. It’s criminal for anyone to look this good first thing in the morning.

“It seems you’re a thief and nosy.” He kisses your nose as he rolls on top of you, caging you in with his arms.

“I just have a few questions.” You try to focus on his face and not the way his naked body feels on top of you.

“I’m sure it’s about group sex and children.” You raise your eyebrows at him waiting for him to continue.

“I figured I was jumping the gun on both topics so I took it off the cons list.”

“We don’t have to figure all of it out on day one.”

You can see him contemplating and weighing your words. Always thinking.

“Listen…if you don’t hear from me over the next few weeks,please don’t be upset.” You stare at him confused as a knot begins to form in your stomach.

“It’s not because I regret any of this cariño, I just need to take care of some things.” He attempts a distraction as he kisses your neck. You love and hate the way your body so easily responds to him as you feel the wetness between your legs.

You tug on his hair as he growls into your ear. “Why do you always have to be so vague when you don’t want me to know something?”

“Just trust me please…it’s for your protection.” You can tell in his eyes he is being sincere.

“Well speaking of protection, I'm on birth control. We kind of skipped passed that last night.”

“I wasn’t really worried about it miel.” Your eyes go wide at the revelation. This honest side of Santiago would take some getting used to.

“I guess I’m not surprised based on the 4 children on the pros list.” He groans again as he drops his head to your shoulder.

“Please don’t mention that to anyone.”

“Not a chance, Daddy Santi.” His body betrays him as you feel his bulge pressed against you growing harder.

He instinctively grinds his hips into yours eliciting a soft moan from your lips. You wrap your legs around his waist as he kisses you slow and deep, his hard cock dragging through your dripping folds.The memory of the previous night sparking something between you.

“You know…we could always pretend we’re trying.” You want to roll your eyes at how alike they all are the great pretenders.

You don’t mind spending the rest of the morning pretending until you have to pry yourselves from the bed.

After breakfast he takes you home with promises of what the future holds. You decided to borrow the list, keeping it tucked away for safekeeping.

****

Your phone buzzes on your bathroom countertop as you step out of the shower.

DF4L

Santiago: We need to talk about honey.

You just dropped me off?

Francisco:Everything ok?

Santiago:Sorry wrong chat.

You have a group chat without me?

Benjamin:Pope had a rash one time he didn’t want to send the picture to you😜.

What’s the name of the group chat?

Santiago: callate pendejo.

Benjamin:No one tell her 🤫

William: You know Ben can’t speak Spanish.

Francisco:He just dropped you off? It’s 1pm

I’m literally a nurse. You should send me rash photos.

Santiago:Fuck you Ben I never had a rash. Don’t worry cariño just wanted to go over details for your birthday😘

Benjamin:Holy man just sent a kiss emoji 😂

Ok don’t plan anything crazy love you

That was meant for all not anyone in particular

——

Santiago fumbles with his phone cursing under his breath. He was obviously distracted and he shouldn’t be texting and driving but he had to handle this now.

Golden Girls

We seriously need to talk

The kid 🥊:I knew you were the weak link

What?

Will:Congratulations

I don’t know what you’re talking about

🐈🐠: slow clap for the man who got laid last night.

The kid 🥊: and probably this morning 😂

I’ll be at your house in 5

Will: What are we talking about?

Mike

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rottenpumpkin13 · 11 months ago

Note

Okay so touch of angst here. But I’ve kind of been thinking about the canon idea that Sephiroth holds no attachment to objects, and that his apartment is really sparse.

And I kind of thought, what if it’s not? What if it’s the opposite? We know he holds onto his mothers photo for dear life, so what if Sephiroth actually has a bit of an issue with getting rid of stuff because of the fact he wasn’t allowed to have many possessions as a child? What if Sephiroth’s apartment is an ordered mess of things that he’s squirrelled away from under Hojo.

I’ve got this idea that maybe Angeal and Genesis have tried to help him sort through it but they struggle to get him to let go of things because he seems to have a story and an attachment to everything. And their shocked because you wouldn’t think Sephiroth is a particularly sentimental person. In fact in everyday conversation he comes of as the exact opposite, but where his stuff is concerned, Sephiroth just cannot let go.

I dunno dude, I’m making myself sad. Thought I’d share.

Let me add my two cents, I hope I did this wonderful idea justice:

• Sephiroth's apartment is indeed minimalistic and neatly-kept at first glance. He has a few personal touches here and there, such as a nice, blue throw blanket on his couch that used to be Genesis's, a few of his favorite books scattered around, a potted plant Angeal gifted him that he takes care of, all normal things.

• But every drawer, closet and cupboard is packed, filled with things he tries to keep as organized as possible but ultimately fills due to the sheet amount of stuff.

• Items Sephiroth refuses to let go of include:

• Newspaper clippings of comic strips he accumulated. There was a brief time in his life where the only joy derived from his day was reading the funny pages in the newspaper every morning. So he saved each one of those moments of bliss in a shoebox under his bed.

• Various toys and trinkets in almost every drawer of his apartment. He is a compulsive buyer of toys he was never allowed when he was a child. He rarely plays with them. Yes he will keep buying them.

• A music box that has long stopped working. It was the first purchase he made with his paycheck that was made purely because he wanted it.

• A jar of candy wrappers that has been sitting in his nightstand for five years. It had been once filled with sweets, but he, Genesis and Angeal ate them all once one night, talking, laughing, and goofing around. It had been one of the first times Sephiroth felt like he truly belonged and was finally making friends. At the time, he had been convinced that he would never be as happy as he felt in that moment. So he kept every wrapper, and hangs onto that memory to this day.

• A pair of wool mittens he keeps in his glove drawer. They're a bit ripped and don't fit anymore, but professor Gast gave those to him. It was the first and only present the professor had given him.

• A broken, plastic hair clip. When he had begun growing his hair out, Genesis had just cut his shorter and no longer needed the clip, so he gave it to Sephiroth. Sephiroth naively tried to lay down with it and broke the clip upon impact. Though he never got to use it, their subsequent shared laughter was enough to make the hair clip special.

• A broken blender in his kitchen cupboard. It had broken long ago, Sephiroth had always meaned to get it fixed, but there is a small chicken wing sticker on the base of the blender that either Genesis or Angeal had gotten from a cereal box and placed there. After a particularly stressful week where he barely ate, Sephiroth looked at the chicken wing sticker and was suddenly struck by the craving for fried chicken. It was the only thing that got him to eat that week. He keeps it around in case it ever happens again.

• A drawer full of magazine clippings of women who vaguely look like that picture of his mother.

• Multiple sweaters and hoodies. The lab was cold and Hojo was stingy with layers, oftentimes insisting that Sephiroth was fine with that he had and reprimanding him for being so weak. As a result, Sephiroth has far too many sweaters, blankets, and layers. Far more than he will ever be able to use. Some of them don't even fit him anymore because of how much he's bulked up over the years.

• A yellow flower pressed and preserved in an old book. It's the very first flower he had seen as a young boy being sent out on a mission.

• An old, green baby blanket he's had since was young. Though Hojo would never admit it, he suspects it could have been given to him by his mother. It's certainly colorful enough, different from the sterile white ones he would've expected. He often wonders if she too held it like he holds it every night before he falls asleep.

#ff7 #ffvii #final fantasy 7 #sephiroth #ffvii crisis core #genesis rhapsodos #angeal hewley #ff7 crisis core #final fantasy vii #sephiroth headcanons #headcanons

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sw-33-ts-stuff · 2 years ago

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One Thing

Wednesday X Reader

Part 4

Enid POV

It's been a week since both Y/n and Wednesday have spoken. While usually normal something about it just felt extra weird.

Every time Wednesday would enter the room Y/n would make herself scarce. Whether it was the balcony or the Quad, she made sure she was never in her sight.

And Wednesday seemed off somehow, angrier than usual.

It sucks considering they seemed to mesh pretty well. I would've thought they'd have become besties and I would end up being jealous but happy Wednesday made a new friend on her own.

I walked into our dorm determined, slamming the door open as Thing jumped up from my Cosmo magazine.

"Spill." As he aggressively signed his version of events I sighed.

"God Wednesday." I rolled my eyes.

Of course, she'd be rude and of course, because Y/n is still new she wasn't used to Wednesday's less than orthodox way of becoming friends.

That still didn't explain Wednesdays behavior and I doubt Y/n would let just one thing get to her....

Wednesday POV

I played my cello the music drowning out my thoughts as I felt the strings between my fingers.

Using the notes to drown out the the thoughts of Y/n.

I tried to wash away the thoughts of her hair and her eyes.

I tried to not think about her scent and how it always lingered no matter how quickly she'd try to get away from me.

I tried not to think about how she had read some of my favorite novels and seemed to hold some of the same interests I had.

I tried not to think about the silent conversations she would hold with Thing in the dead of night as she'd fail to find sleep for the fourth time in a row.

A hand closing my music sheets interrupted me.

I glared at the culprit finding Enid standing next to me slightly shrinking but holding her ground.

I almost respected her for it.

Almost.

"What?" She scoffed.

"You've been more of an asshole than usual lately and I want to know why." I raised an eyebrow at her going to open my notebook again.

"Wednesday! Even Xavier has been too scared to do his usual flirting. So either you tell me what's wrong or I leak the photos from this summer when you let me style you for a day."

I felt myself grow nauseous remembering that day. Enid's sense of style was truly something else and if anyone were to see those photos I'd have to kill them.

I put the bow down. "What makes you think something is wrong with me?"

"You mean besides the fact you've been an angrier than usual gremlin for almost a week?"

I quirked an eyebrow at the girl.

"You've been playing your cello every night like a mad man, tossed out more pages than usual when writing your novel and you almost broke Bianca's arm while fencing yesterday."

"I'm failing to see how any of that is an issue for you." She huffed.

"Wednesday!" She said exasperated.

We both heard a creek seeing Y/n about to step out piano under her arm.

"Uh sorry for interrupting."I glanced up to find her eyes catching mine for a moment before dropping again. I must have sat there for longer than expected because I turned to find Enid staring at me oddly.

"What?" I gritted out.

She squinted her eyes at me saying nothing else. She looked to where Y/n was then back to me. She said nothing more as she walked out.

I huffed now even more annoyed at the unnecessary interruption.

Y/n POV

"Hey Y/n wait up!" I turned to find Enid running up to me.

"I just have a quick question for you." I nodded at the blonde. "Did something happen between you and Wednesday?"

I shrugged. Relaying how it seemed like we were getting along at first but then the sudden cold shoulder. However, between her behavior to her actual friends and my late night talks with Thing this seemed to be her usual behavior.

Her eyes softened as she glanced at my hand seeing the faint scar.

"Are you ok?" I nodded.

"Kent got me good in a match but no worries Xavier's been giving me lessons," I glanced at my watch. "Which I should be going to now."

She nodded. "Good luck."

I got to the gym where Xavier was waiting for me.

"Hey you ready for this?" I nodded placing my helmet on.

Two hours later and I felt fairly confident that I was now at least adequate when it came to fencing.

Better than Xavier at least.

He had offered to treat me to dinner since our practice ran a little later than usual. As we got to the cafeteria I ran into my brother.

"A little late to be eating right now ain't it sis?" He smirked looking from me to Xavier. I rolled my eyes.

"You're here too, I can ask you the same thing." He shrugged before leaning down to whisper in my ear.

"Don't fool yourself he just wants you for one thing." He hissed as I put my hand on his to burn him.

"Tu perra!" He went to grab me when Xavier stepped in front of him glaring. He turned his stare to me before he straightened up laughing.

"Have fun." His sarcastic tone not lost on either of us as I felt my appetite subside.

Xavier cleared his throat. "Hey are you ok? Do you still wanna-"

I swallowed the lump in my throat as I felt my brothers words begin to replay themselves in my head.

"Actually I think I'll just head up to my room. Thanks again for your help." He nodded hands in his pockets as he stood in his spot.

"No problem."

I made it to my dorm to find Wednesday typing before slamming her hand on her desk throwing away another piece of paper.

I steered clear and went to lay down.

"Y/n." Her monotone voice sent shivers down my spine. I turned to her, almost black eyes boring into mine. Her brows furrowed.

"What's wrong?"

I chuckled darkly pushing my glasses up.

"What do you care?"

"I don't." Enid came in just then.

"Don't worry Dean Addams had expelled a student earlier today, I requested to take their room so after tonight I'll be out of your hair."

Wednesday POV

Y/n stood from her bed and walked out.

"Wednesday! I asked you one thing! Just try to be nice to Y/n and now she's leaving!"

I shrugged. "Good."

Enid threw her hands up exasperated before going to put her headphones on.

Hopefully her being gone will erase her from my thoughts. The only reason she was even in them was because she was invading my reality but if I were to see her less...

"Estudiantes escuchar! I will be assigning you partners for your next project!" I felt my eyes roll the minute my father opened his mouth.

"Addams and Ramirez." My father was going to die a very slow painful death. I grit my teeth as both Elijah and Y/n came next to me. Elijah smirked at me winking and I was sure it hadn't escaped my fathers attention.

"Y/n Ramirez. You will be paired with Bianca, Mr.Ramirez." He nodded smirking.

"She's hot too." My father tried to keep his face neutral but I caught his anger when he went to stroke his mustache. He continued to assign partners as Y/n gently placed her book down and sat in the seat next to me.

A snake was slowly slithering on the table going towards her as she held her hand out. I felt my head tilt slightly seeing as it was Percy, my fathers snake. Percy was volatile as a student had learned the hard way last week. She was obnoxiously chewing gum and he had wrapped around the girls neck until she fainted. I watched as the snake slithered up her arm giving a glimpse of the fresh scar going across her wrist.

He continued his slithering up to her neck but instead of strangling her he began to muzzle his head with hers making her giggle. I felt my dead heart actually beat for a moment. I looked to my father trying to hide my panic as he watched smiling.

"We will start off easy as you will be lab partners for the rest of the semester." I was unable to hold back my groan to this.

"This project is to get to know your partner. You will use a survey and see if there habits are similar to any amphibians or reptiles we will be learning about. It's due next week and you will be able to use your class time to complete it sooner."

Y/n sighed. "You don't like me and that's fine so let's get this over with."

I nodded as Percy began to get comfortable on Y/n getting ready to take a nap.

I cleared my throat. "Question 1 do you prefer areas that are hot and dry or cold and wet?"

Y/n slowly stroked Percy's head as his eyes began to close. "Cold and wet."

I felt my eyebrows raise. "The warmth can suffocate you sometimes." Her eyes held a distant look in them.

I wrote down her answer going to ask the next when Xavier walked up to us.

"Hey are you ok?" I sighed.

"Trying to do an assignment."

He coughed lightly.

"Actually I was talking to Y/n." Her head shot up surprised as she craned her neck to look at at him smiling slightly. I felt a flash of heat stir within me.

"I'm fine thanks." He nodded going to put his hand on hers as I cleared my throat harshly.

"Is there anything else you needed? We're kind of busy." I spoke through clenched teeth. Y/n glanced to me before turning to him.

"Really I'm fine if anything we can just talk at lunch right?"

He nodded turning to leave back to his seat. He looked back around once again wasting our time.

"We still on for practice later?"

She nodded glasses falling slightly down her nose before she pushed them back up.

"Yeah." He smiled FINALLY going to his seat. Had he not gone I would have strangled him.

"Guess it didn't take long for you to get a boyfriend." I muttered.

The girl took a deep breath before speaking.

"I don't see how that's any of your business, so if you don't mind I'd rather finish this sooner than later?" Percy popped up sensing the hostility and went to hiss before seeing me. My father came to our desk.

"How's it going girls?"

"Wonderful." I deadpanned.

Y/n scoffed rolling her eyes. "I'm sorry Señor Addams but seeing as she is your daughter and you know the handful she can be ...would it be ok if I leave class early today?"

My father was stunned.

I glared at the girl next to me.

"I fail to see how I'm the issue when you're too busy flirting with Xavier."

I saw steam begin to rise from her skin as her eyes narrowed. Percy slithered down quickly as my father went to put his hand on hers hissing and shaking it after.

"Girls please calmate."

Y/n stood up quickly grabbing her bag and walking out, the door slamming behind her. A hush fell over the class for a moment before the chatter began again.

My father looked at me.

"What?"

He shook his head laughing. "You truly are my daughter, my little scorpion. Since your partner left you are excused."

I grabbed my things heading back to my room.

I looked out from my balcony to find Y/n pacing in the grass. Throwing her hands up exasperated. I continued to watch her until the bell rang and of course Xavier was there to save the day.

I rolled my eyes wanting to turn away but also wanting to see what they'd do.

I watched him listen to her rant as her hands continued to glow. Xavier went to touch her but she backed away holding her hands up. I felt my ire continue to rise at the sight.

If she wasn't mad would she have let him touch her?

Why did it matter?

I went inside to continue my novel. Viper de La Muerte was far more important than Y/n Ramirez.

Y/n POV

"God she's so fucking infuriating!" Xavier chuckled.

"Yeah Wednesday has that affect on people." He shook his head. "Look how about we spar for a little maybe it'll help get your mind off of it?"

You nodded grabbing your things with one destination in mind.

You swung the sword with more strength than usual. Wednesday Addams was a cancer that you were hoping to be rid of. As Xavier went to lunge you spun hitting him on his back.

"Impressive." You looked to find the fencing captain Bianca Barclay watching you.

"How about you join us for practice today?" You shrug nodding still pent up from earlier this afternoon.

"Uh Y/n?" Xavier tapped your shoulder. You turn to him to see him pointing. You follow his finger only to find Wednesday Addams standing in her all black uniform.

She couldn't let you have one thing.

Taglist: @awolfcsworld @maria-403

@ognenniyvolk @tiffanysunshine @dreifhraniquo29 @rainbow-love4ever @ghostissus

#wednesday addams x reader #wednesday x reader #wednesday addams x fem!reader #wednesday netflix #wednsday addams #wednesday #wednesday 2022

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dancer-subclarington · 2 years ago

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Texts: Holding Back || Sutton & Kyla

[slightly backdated]

Sutton: Your portfolio is technically not complete

Kyla: You have more photos of me than my mother does

Sutton: Not photos; other media

Kyla: So..videos? You have those too. Also I can’t exactly do anything cool rn. Kinda trapped in Ohio.

Sutton: You could always just not live in Ohio

Kyla: Ok I dont LIVE in Ohio. I just go to school here.

Sutton: Whatever you want to call it.

Kyla: God plz dont tell me to move back to ny cuz im gonna have a hard time arguing it

Sutton: Usually means you should just do it, but suit yourself

Kyla: What media do you need now?

Sutton: Your voice

Kyla: You have 3 dif kinds of monologues, 2 audio recordings of songs, like 4 showcase videos, 2 legally blonde videos, and a commercial.

Sutton: You can offer more

Kyla: Dont ever sound that much like my mother even again, I beg you

Sutton: You should beg me using proper recording equipment :P

Kyla: unProFesSiOnAl

Sutton: I want you to record a song

Kyla: We just went over this

Sutton: I want you to record a demo

Kyla: Of what?

Sutton: A song that will be yours.

Kyla: You’re crazy

Sutton: You have a great voice, and you can do more with it than the kind of singing used for musicals

Kyla: So you’d like me to put out a single. Like a Disney child.

Sutton: But much more fun!

Kyla: Im not a singer

Sutton: Someone who can sing like you doesn’t get to go around saying they’re not a singer

Kyla: Im a performer. Showcases. Talent shows. Musicals. Laura Bell Bundy, Idina Menzel, Shoshana Bean; these people don’t put out singles

Sutton: They would if they weren’t stuck on that part of show business. You can sing more than soundtracks.

Kyla: So weird because I think that’s all I do

Sutton: That’s all you’ve done. You don’t have to limit yourself. And theoretically, you could record just about anything no matter what stupid tiny town you choose.

Kyla: There aren’t recording studios here. There’s a couple restaurants and a cafe and a bookstore and some sex shops.

Sutton: Adorable. You can do this.

Kyla: What kind of song would it be?

Sutton: Don’t flip out on me

Sutton: But I feel like something mildly sexy really wouldn’t hurt

Kyla: Im not singing about sex

Sutton: That’s not actually what I said.

Sutton: Im not the only one who’s curious. I’ve got 4 people agreed to let you sample their songs. This is for real.

Kyla: What the

Kyla: You could have started with that

Sutton: Whenever I do that, you comment on my manners like you’re still a 9yo in a pageant

Kyla: Manners are for adults too, Sutton

Sutton: Sometimes I swear you could be Elmo

Kyla: You could learn things from Elmo!

Sutton: Are you done distracting me?

Kyla: No not really

Kyla: Im not trained in singing regular stuff

Sutton: You sing to the radio, you sing when you do your hair and when you brush your teeth

Kyla: Not on record

Sutton: Kyla Clarington

Kyla: Ugh don’t call me that

Sutton: Then stop being unreasonable. I emailed you the sheet music

Kyla: Aren’t these a little uncomplicated?

Sutton: That’s what’s in now. Billie Eilish, Taylor Swift, Rihanna. All you have to do is enunciate and project less

Kyla: Enunciate and project less. That is blasphemy.

Sutton: Do you know what that word means?

Kyla: Not entirely but Im right.

Sutton: This will be good for you on many levels. You’ll enjoy it too, and you’ll learn stuff.

Kyla: I don’t like learning!

Sutton: Don’t be a baby

Kyla: Ugh

Sutton: I get that you’re afraid to do something new, and I know you don’t like when you don’t succeed. But you won’t know until you try, and I really want you to give this a try.

Sutton: Please?

Kyla: What the hell Sutton

Sutton: I’ve been keeping it in my back pocket. Will you please give it a try?

Kyla: [Read]

#text: sutton #sutton #texts #for reference

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tatyana-dreaming · 3 years ago

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do you ever just think of Twoset Violin’s CAFE

#those sheet music photos got me thinking about it again

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pjisskullourful · 3 years ago

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𝓼𝓽𝓪𝓲𝓷𝓮𝓭 𝓼𝓱𝓮𝓮𝓽𝓼

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

🌼Damiano × reader

part13 of ??? [parts 1-12]

NSFW🔥 kinky rude swearing smuttastic sexytimes

° Damiano David & female reader insert

wordcount::: 1,492

° anon request: i was wondering if you could do a corruption kink fic with damiano and a female reader. [ask & it shall be given- requests are open] [but commissions are priority! there are currently 2 commissions in cue!]

° [ITA] cazzo: fuck

A sudden musical flourish - a harp and the gentle clashing of chimes, got your attention, ensuring you wouldn't be falling back into deep sleep any time soon. You opened your eyes fully, seeing how much of the morning light was now filling the hotel room. You squirmed around in the crisp sheets, moving towards the heat source alongside you.

"Cazzo, sorry, sorry. I didn't- shit…" Damiano was whispering as the music abruptly halted. "I didn't realise that filter made noise…"

Your boyfriend was holding his phone up as he faced the sun. You moved closer, your voice groggy. "Filter? What are you-... oh, you're doing your Vic impression again, aren't you?"

He laughed, turning to look at you. "Yeah, kinda. I'm getting really good at it."

You hid a yawn behind your hand. "I'm sure you are."

Victoria's comfort in taking, then sharing photos of herself, from first thing in the morning never failed to amaze you. You were self-conscious of messy hair and smeared makeup upon waking up. But your friend was consistent enough to have something that all of you claimed could be trademarked. Damiano was so familiar with the angles that she used that he could copy these, getting a kick out of how close he could match her.

"I just should have stopped before I got carried away with the filters… sorry."

"Hey, I know that I haven't done one in ages, but formally, do you want me to keep going with those daily panty pics? You kinda don't need them anymore, like you can just see what colour they are for yourself, now that we're living together…"

"I actually hadn't thought about that. I guess you're right."

"I can still send them when you're away for work, if you want."

He had rolled over to face you, propping his head up on one hand. "Sure. But maybe the rule should be, anytime you think I might wanna see your underwear- I definitely do, so just send me the snap."

You nodded with a little laugh. "Okay, I will remember that new rule."

"You know, I have completely forgotten what pair you're wearing…"

You scoffed and started to lift the blankets. "So, just look for yourself…"

"Hang on, hang on. Take a picture, give me the snaps I've been missing."

You rolled your eyes, but picked your phone up. You unlocked the screen and opened Snapchat, very aware of him watching you. You switched the camera away from the front-facing option and lifted up the top of the blankets. Looking at the view with the camera, seeing the purple lacy panties you had worn to bed.

Before you could take the photo, the frame was being invaded by his hand. You laughed as he cupped your crotch, over the thin material of your underwear.

"Well now you can hardly even see my panties…"

"Oh, right." He said. "That's my bad, let me fix that for you." He lifted his hand, maneuvering so that he could slide his hand into your panties. "Is that better?"

You looked over to him, seeing the mischievous smile that was beginning to form on his face. "Daddy…"

"What?" He asked, pretending at being oblivious while his fingers determinedly started to stroke along your labia. "Is there something wrong? Why don't you take the photo?"

"Um…" Your thumb hovered over the button as you felt him reaching lower. "You want me to take a photo of you fingering me?"

"I'm touching you with my fingers, yes. But technically, this isn't fingering. If I were to penetrate you, then I believe that could be classed as fingering you."

"Right, it's good to know the specifics of tha-a oh…" Your mouth fell slack, the speed with which he moved his fingertip down to your entrance stunned you. You shivered, your legs twitching. "Fuck."

"Does that feel good?"

Your eyes were fluttering shut as he wet his finger at your cunt, swirling it at this most-sensitive area. "Yes."

"But I'm not even fingering you yet. It would probably be more fun if I did finger you, don't you think?"

"Yes."

You didn't have to pause to give this a second thought. And you were soon loudly moaning, delighted as this proved to be the correct decision.

He pushed a single finger up inside of you, your arousal making it effortless for him to bury his finger into your pussy. Your walls excitedly spasmed and you were squirming even more, all of your body tuned into his minute movements.

You rolled your body into his, whimpering when he curled his finger. “Oh, fuck Daddy.”

His lips met yours, the heat instantly growing as you followed him into a deep kiss, your lips parting. You could feel yourself becoming consumed by him and all of this lust, with his arm wrapping around you to keep your body pressed to him. You pushed your hands up into his hair, grabbing at the brown strands.

You felt a second finger stretching your entrance. As the penetration began here, he coordinated sliding his tongue into your mouth. A perfect combination that filled your body with a giddy rush of what was to come.

All of your moans were delivered directly into his mouth as he started to move his fingers. He pushed deep into you, then pulled back a little, letting your sensitive walls yearn for his strokes during those in-between moments. Then he would reach in, it felt like he was going as deep as possible, your pussy stretching so that you could savour it all.

“You feel so good.” He murmured against your lips. The beginnings of stubble on his face tickled you as he tilted his head, repositioning so that he could whisper into your ear. “I’m gonna make you come…”

A wordless sob came from you as you nodded your head. You couldn’t think of anything to say, not while you were getting overwhelmed by these quickly increasing sensations.

You had started to roll your hips, getting into the rhythm that he was using to get you up to that edge. Each pump of his fingers was completed with a curl, allowing him to press into your g-spot, before he retracted to start all over again.

His lips moved over your throat, firm and precise as his hand remained steady on the small of your back. It was a demonstration of calm control that went against everything you were experiencing at the moment. You were falling victim to the excitement, whimpering as you were unable to stop the quivering of your whole body.

Your movements only got more erratic, your pitiful lack of control only getting worse when his thumb landed on your clit. Your hips jolted and you sought to press yourself into him harder than before, forgetting about the wonderful rhythm he had been guiding you into.

It was like a warning shot from a gun - able to communicate to you that he had you in his sights and he was aiming to ruin you. You didn’t doubt that he could do it, that he could use that single hand to make you come so hard that tears fell from your eyes.

Your panties remaining on posed some restrictions to his movements, but he made use of the limited space that he did have - working you over before you could lament any moves that were left out. It didn’t matter that he wasn’t playing in patterns with your clitoral hood. It was exciting enough to just have the pressure here, it heightened what you were getting from his internal manipulations. You were so very aware of each flex of his fingers between your walls, to the point where you were enticed back into rocking your hips. It wasn’t very well coordinated, instead reflecting your frenzied chase to your climax.

“Are you gonna come, babygirl?” He asked over the sounds of your ragged breaths. “Are you gonna come and ruin these panties?”

Watching the stars bursting behind your eyes, you nodded. “Yes, yes, ye- ah, I’m gonna, God, yes, yes, yes.”

Despite the ferocious clenching of your walls, he found a way to move his fingers faster. There was no time to recover, the relentless stimulation was taking you over. Your cries got louder as you quickly snapped your hips up again-and-again.

“Do it, do it, do it, do it, do it.” He teased. “Ruin these fuckin’ panties, ruin ‘em. Yes.”

“Yes.” You screamed out, overwhelmed with happiness as you felt the orgasm blossoming inside of you, making you complete. “God, yes…”

There were a couple of purposeful thrusts left in you, your body forcefully colliding with his. But then you began to shatter, the orgasm overtaking you and you crumpled like a paper doll. You collapsed against him, writhing as the aftershocks rattled you.

He gasped from the exertion. “Did you get the photo, or should we do all of that over again?”

If you like my writing, feel free to tip me. I am open to both commissions & requests, commissions get priority & the most input. join my taglist to keep up to date with all my debauchery

»»————-　♡　————-««

readmore of this series

🍑 taglist: @gr8rainbowpunk - @idyllicbutterfly - @maneslut - @saschenkaaa - @slavicgoddess13 - @elvirabelle - @maneskindiva - @maneskintifoso - @thegeminisgirl - @ha-la-ansia - @butkutee

#maneskin x reader #maneskin fanfiction #maneskin smut #maneskin fic #manesmut #damiano david fic #damiano x reader #damiano david x reader #stainedsheets #dom dami corruption fic #damiano x you

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snackhobi · 4 years ago

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a human touch, part I

Part [1] / 1.5 / 2

(masterlist here)

pairing: taehyung x f!reader / word count: 13.3k / genre: robot!taehyung/virgin!reader, fluff, future smut (NSFW, 18+)

summary: everyone knows that androids don’t think, or feel, or have emotions. they’re not human, after all. so when a two hour session with a sex android ends up with nothing more than a nice conversation, you think that’s the first and last time you’ll see v.

then he turns up at your door.

warnings: talk of sex work (taehyung is a sex android), implied physical harassment (mentions of bruising), cursing/explicit language, mentions of alcohol, honestly this is a lot softer than these warnings would make you think I swear 🤧

a/n: I started writing this fic like 2/3 months ago and then put it on hiatus bc god it was kicking my entire ass. but ya girl is finally back to working on it! it’ll be two parts, because this fic is a big one! I hope to have the next chapter out next week/the week after (but no promises kdsflkfdfsdf) thank you @hobi-gif for loving this fic so wholeheartedly and supporting me while I struggled with it, queen shit ONLY. note: this is loosely a detroit: become human au but you don’t have to be familiar with it at all!

Here are the three things you know about the Eden Club.

One: it’s a sex club. Everyone knows that. Besides, even if they didn’t, all it would take is a single look—the soft blue lighting that shines out from the windows, the screens behind the glass that flash images of shifting and undulating bodies, the heavy beat of music that pulsates from the building and out into the night air; everything murmurs of the promised pleasures that are held within.

Two: it’s a sex club entirely staffed by androids. Androids make better lovers, according to the ads. They might look human but they don’t have free will like you do—anything you ask for, you’re given without question or reproach. They can’t say no to you. They’re entirely at your command.

Three: you don’t ever want to go to the Eden Club. It’s not that you have anything against androids—because you don’t—but you feel bad for the ones who are owned by the club, even if they’re literally only built and programmed to serve humans. It just feels… wrong.

And here’s the fourth thing you’ve just learned about the club, much to your dismay: you are about to head inside it.

“When you said we were going to a club, I thought we were going dancing,” you whine. “I never would have come out if I’d know you meant here.”

You’ve been staring up at the cursive pink neon sign for a while now, the looping letters of Eden Club shining out in the dark evening air, and you really, really wish you weren’t here. You’ve dressed for a night of dancing and drinking and now you feel woefully uncomfortable, your high heels and short skirt almost as scandalous as the outfits the androids are wearing when they slide across the huge screens.

“That’s why we didn’t tell you which club it was.” Seulgi rolls her eyes and once again tries to tug you towards the building with the arm that’s looped with your own. Just out of arm’s reach, Irene holds your bag hostage. “Come on, your session is going to start soon!”

“My session?” Your voice is an incredulous shrill and Seulgi uses the momentary distraction to finally pull you forward. You stumble a little but catch your balance just as you make your way past the bouncer, who’s been watching the three of you impassively since you got here. “What do you mean, my session?”

“For your birthday, duh. We booked you a private room!”

The inside has the same, sleek neon aesthetic as the outside, but instead of images of androids on a screen, these ones are real and standing in front of you—swinging themselves around glowing poles, rolling their hips and swaying their bodies, while others wait patiently in glass pods that line the walls, leaning towards onlookers and moving as tantalisingly as possible. All ready to be rented at a whim.

Their designs are varied and different but they’re all incredibly beautiful. The only feature they all share is the small, blue LED circle on the side of their temple, light spinning and shining as they take the world in around them. A visual reminder to the world that these aren’t flesh and blood humans: they’re synthetic, man-made machines.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been so uncomfortable in my life.” You desperately try to avoid the eyes of a nearby android who’s staring at you from behind glass, trying to subtly catch your attention. Unlike you, though, all the other patrons here are shameless in their perusal, scanning the selection of androids on display and watching as they dance and move and bat their eyelashes. “Why did you ever think I’d want to come to a sex club for my birthday?”

“Remember Valentine’s Day? You said that instead of flowers or chocolate you’d rather just be dicked down,” Irene says. “Besides, you’ve never been in a relationship or had a fling for as long as we’ve known you, and you moved to the company, what… three years ago?”

Your smile is pained. You’ve never been in a relationship or had a fling full stop; you’ve only kissed a few people and that’s it. It makes you feel awkward and embarrassed, and you’ve gotten Very Good at avoiding questions about your complete lack of a love life, so no one realises exactly how inexperienced you are. People just assume that you’ve had sex in the past and you make no attempts at correcting them. You’re charismatic and pretty but you’ve just… never met someone who you’ve really been compatible with.

Even without the reservations you have about the Eden Club, you don’t want your first time to be with a sexbot—you’d at least like to have an emotional connection, you know?

“I was joking about getting dicked down! You laughed, I laughed, we all laughed! Remember?” You move so a pink-haired android can brush past, her hips swaying as she leads a customer into a side room. You catch a flash of the interior before the door slides shut behind them—the silken sheets on the large bed, the scattered pillows, the dim multi-coloured lights. “Couldn’t you have just bought me some socks? Or some soap? Get a refund and put the money on a gift card and I’ll buy myself the aforementioned socks and soap, saves you both the hassle. Please?”

Seulgi’s arm is still locked with your own, and for all that she looks small and slim, her grip is as strong as iron. You may as well be handcuffed to her. “Trust me, you’ll be singing our praises at the end of tonight,” she proclaims. “Besides, they don’t do refunds.”

You sigh. You might not know much about the club but you do know it’s expensive. The androids here are built to be the perfect sexual partner, all sorts of bells and whistles hidden under their synthetic skin to bring you to the absolute heights of pleasure, so they’re not exactly cheap to build or buy or maintain. It’s why people come to the club instead of just buying their own sexbots—because it’s infinitely more affordable.

“Okay, I can accept the ‘no refund’ thing,” you say. “But can’t one of you take my place instead? I… ah. I feel kind of weird about this.”

“Don’t worry Y/n, it’s fine! The androids have programmes for everything. You can take it as fast or as slow as you like.” Irene’s voice is soothing but then she pauses. “Also it’s booked in your name so we can’t take your place.”

“Wait, what?” Your eyes are wide. However, before you can put a voice to the complaints that are lining themselves up on your tongue, Seulgi’s arm slides out of your own so she can beckon someone over.

“Oh, look, it’s the android we chose for you! Over here!”

You glance away from Irene and all protestations instantly die on your lips. The lighting of the club softens the android in shades of magenta and teal but even so his beauty is bright and blinding: he’s breathtaking, from his perfect nose to his perfect mouth to the perfect line of his jaw, dusty brown hair deliciously tousled as it hangs just over his piercing blue eyes, which you notice are scanning over you. He looks effortlessly attractive and yet entirely put together at the same time, almost ethereal in his beauty.

No human could ever look this good.

“Hi.” His voice is low and deep, but somehow warm and friendly; despite your nerves you feel somewhat soothed. “Are you the lucky birthday girl?”

Irene and Seulgi both look giddy. You’ve been stunned into silence, unable to respond. Unlike the other androids you’ve seen so far, who’ve all been in similar variations of underwear or lingerie, the man in front of you is fully dressed, a loose metallic button-down tucked into unnecessarily tight leather jeans—the outfit has clearly been curated for the club, every reflective surface shimmering and refracting the lights that skate across their surface. The glittering scales of a barracuda before it moves in to strike and swallow you whole.

“Yes, yes, it’s her! This is Y/n! Y/n, this is V,” Irene gushes as you remain mute. "Do you like his outfit? We spent ages picking it out.”

You kind of want to die. Just a little. “Yep. It’s, uh, great.” Your mouth is dry when you finally speak. “Hi, V.”

V gives you a small smile. “Hello Y/n. Can I scan your ID, please?”

Irene finally hands your bag back and you silently slide your ID out and into V’s hand—oh, God, those are some big hands. Jesus.

The small LED ring on the side of V’s forehead pulses yellow as his eyes dart over the information on your ID card (as well as the incredibly unflattering photo on it) before it returns to its customary pale blue. “Perfect.”

You’ve just finished putting your ID away when V’s hand slides into yours, fingers slotting between your own; they feel cool against your overheated skin. Your nervousness is obvious, from your wide eyes to your sudden stiffness, and he smiles.

“Don’t worry,” he says. “I’ll look after you.”

You give Irene and Seulgi one final, wide-eyed look as V leads you away. Both girls are grinning as they wave goodbye. “We'll be back later! Enjoy your two hours!”

“Two hours?” You wheeze, but then you walk around a pillar and slide out of sight.

V is leading you deeper into the club, past doors flooded with different shades of neon: the red room, the blue room, the pink room. You’d normally be gawping at the interior design, how the floor shines underneath your feet and how the walls are rippling with colour and shifting shapes, how the criss-crossed lights throw dots and lines of colour over your skin as you pass through each doorway—but you can’t look away from how small your hand looks in V’s, transfixed by how real his skin feels.

“After you, please,” he says.

You finally wrench your eyes away from your joint hands. Seems like you have the purple room tonight. The door has opened at V’s touch, and when you step inside the lights flicker to life—white and violet LEDs that paint the room in chiaroscuro brushstrokes, deepening the shadows and highlighting the vibrancy of the satin sheets.

“Woah,” you say, momentarily distracted. You’re too busy taking in the details with wide eyes to notice the quiet hum of the door sliding shut behind you, pausing when you spot the glittering array of bottles lined up on a mini-bar against the wall. “This is really pretty, wow.”

“Not as pretty as you.”

You jump at the sensation of a warm, large hand sliding up the skin of your back and over your shoulder. You meep as you instinctively shy away from it, turning around to come face to face with V, who’s dark-eyed and intent, LED on his temple pulsating as he watches you.

“Haha! Uh, thanks?” Your voice is high and only grows higher when V takes a step forward. He must have undone the top buttons of his shirt when you weren’t looking, because the material has fallen open and you can see far more of his collarbones and chest than before, his skin warm and honeyed, like it’s been impressed with gold leaf. Lord have mercy on your soul. “How about a drink? Would you like a drink? I could kill for some water right now!”

You slip out of his reach and scuttle over to the mini-bar, shrugging your small bag off your shoulder so it doesn’t swing into the glasses as you start to shuffle through them. You try to ignore the shaking of your hands. “Gin, vodka, whiskey,” you mutter. “No water? Really?”

You startle again when V appears at your side, but this time he’s careful to make sure you can see him before he touches you. He slides his fingers over your wrist as he gently pulls your hand off a bottle of rum.

“Y/n,” he says. You glance away from the tray of drinks and directly into those beautiful eyes of his—his gaze is lethal. You go weak at the knees. “Let me take care of you, gorgeous.”

The peal of laughter you let out is uncomfortable and high-pitched. “No, really, I’m fine! I’m just super thirsty right now!”

“Your heart is racing.” V turns your hand over and traces his fingers across the pulse in your wrist; androids can be built to be hypersensitive to the world around them, able to perceive everything in an instant, and you know that sexbots will have been designed to read how aroused their human owners are. Which V proves with the next words out of his mouth. “Your blood pressure is rising, your breathing is growing faster, your pupils are dilating and—” he sniffs lightly, engaging his olfactory senses—“you’re getting wet.”

You clamp your legs together, abruptly embarrassed. It’s easy to feel aroused when there’s a beautiful man—ah, android—staring at you with hunger, not even considering your surroundings right now, which all scream of a room that’s designed purely for carnal pleasure. Anyone would be turned on.

(You, however, are more than just turned on. You feel like your insides are about to go supernova, overheated and overwhelmed; no one’s ever looked at you like this or touched you like this, their every motion whispering sex, sex, sex.)

“Okay, yes, those things are all true,” you admit, voice shaking.

V looks confused. “So why don’t you want me to touch you?”

You’ve been told that androids don’t feel the same way humans do, and that their expressions and reactions have been programmed to mimic human ones because otherwise they seem too robotic and it makes consumers uncomfortable—but despite knowing this, you’ve never been able to see any android as anything other than a person just like you. They’re just so lifelike it’s hard not to. Even if it’s just all circuitry and lines of code.

“Well,” you say. You swallow. You’re aroused, yes, but: “Do you want to touch me?”

V’s long lashes flutter as he blinks. “I have been programmed for your pleasure,” he says slowly, unsure if that’s the answer you want to hear. It’s clearly a sentence he’s used to reciting.

“Sure, but do you want to do this? You know, what about your pleasure? You’re lovely, V, you’re definitely the most beautiful person I’ve ever met, but I—I don’t really feel like you can technically consent, because… well, because you can’t say no to me.” You might not have prior sexual experience, and it would be so easy to give yourself over to someone who knows what they're doing and can ease you into things—but you would never force that on anyone, android or not. “So I’m not going to ask you to do anything. We can just sit and have a drink and chat or something?”

V looks stunned. The LED on his temple pulsates, flickering yellow as he tries to process new information. His hand has gone still against your wrist, which he’s still lightly gripping, and his arms start to droop.

“Androids don’t need to drink or eat,” he says eventually. His LED is still yellow and spinning.

“Oh, right! Sorry, I always forget.” You don’t own a house android, you never have, so you’re not well versed in the nuances of how they work. “Well, how about I pour you a glass anyway? So you’re not left out?”

You slip your hand out of his loose grasp to open two tiny cans of tonic water and pour them into separate glasses. V takes a seat on the edge of the bed and you can see the obvious uncertainty on his face, how he’s out of his depth. You can’t imagine that many people spend money for a session with an android as pretty as V and then end up doing nothing with that time.

The pillows all have satin cases and keep sliding against each other uselessly when you try to construct a good support to lean against. V’s still clutching onto his small glass as he watches you fuss with them before you give up, flopping backwards to slurp down your drink and look back at him. The expression on his face is a little funny but mostly sad. It’s like if he’s not being alluring or sexy then he doesn’t know what to do with himself and rather than some sort of incubus he looks like a lost child, in spite of his overwhelming and exquisite beauty; your arousal ebbs and is replaced with empathy, melancholy at the life he’s been created for.

It's just depressing, really.

You break the silence as your final mouthful of tonic water fizzes on your tongue. “Why is your name V?”

V looks away from the drink he’s holding—he leaves no fingerprints against the glass—and lifts his free hand, a peace sign that he turns away from you before fitting his fingers around his lips and lapping the air with his tongue, a crude simulation of cunnilingus.

“Oh.” Your face heats up. “Uh. I see.”

His LED has returned to calming sapphire, quiet ocean waves. When he looks at you, though his eyes are still piercingly blue, his face seems softer, calm, though still unsure. “You have an hour and a half remaining of your booked session,” he says, somewhat tentatively. “Is there… anything you would like me to do for you?”

“Mm, thank you, but I’m good.” The satin pillows are surprisingly soft and you find yourself unwinding as you stay leaned back, melting into a puddle. You're much less nervous now that V isn’t trying to initiate foreplay and you give him a smile. “Why don’t you tell me about yourself?”

V straightens before he launches into what sounds like a sentence from a user manual. “I am a model TH700, an advanced sex android with functional genitals and the capacity to engage in any sexual activity from simple intercourse to—”

You cough loudly, interrupting his spiel. “Uh, that’s lovely, but I meant you specifically, not your, um, model type?”

“Me specifically?” Confusion and uncertainty reappear on his face. “I am equipped with the same functionalities as the other androids available at the Eden Club.”

He’s staring at you, lost. You can’t help but feel another twinge of sadness, sharp and sour at the back of your throat.

“Okay, uh. Why don’t we start simple. What’s your favourite colour?”

His LED starts to whirl again, a ring of pale sunlight that signals his struggle to compute the question. “My… favourite colour?”

“Yes, the one you think is the prettiest. Or the one you like to look at the most. There’s no wrong answer, you can choose any one that you like. I change my mind all the time. There are just so many cool colours, you know?”

(Androids aren’t designed to have free will or the capacity for original thought. These two facts are warring in V’s mind—you’ve asked him a question, which he’s programmed to answer, but he also isn’t programmed to have an opinion, so he can’t have a colour that he prefers. This simple query that most people could answer in a heartbeat is sending his mind into a meltdown, a gordian knot he can’t unravel.)

You’re alarmed when you see his LED briefly flash bright scarlet, interrupting the circling honey that’s been shining against his skin. They only turn red if an android is badly damaged or suffering from a severe malfunction. Oh, god, have you broken him?

“V.” You sit up, panicked. “Are you alright?”

Just as you grasp his shoulder, the LED on his temple goes still, flicking from burning fire back to cool water.

“Purple.”

You blink. V’s finally looked away from you and is staring at the wall, at one of the lights that shimmers violet—there’s a tiny smile on his face, tentative, but it’s nothing like the smiles you’ve seen from him so far. It’s less of a perfect curve, and more of a square, boxy on his face, and this one actually reaches his eyes. It looks genuine.

You think it suits him better.

“Purple’s a lovely colour.” The material of V’s shirt is silky and glides under your fingers when you realise you’re still touching him. You give him a reassuring pat on the shoulder before leaning back. “Hey, did you know that when they first made purple dye, they made it from sea snails? They needed thousands and thousands of them. It was incredibly expensive, and only the richest people could afford it, so that’s why it’s associated with royalty and nobility. Cool, right? Not for the snails though.”

V’s eyes flicker away from the purple light and settle on your face. He looks curious, which is an expression you’ve never seen on an android before. “They made it from snails?”

“Yeah! It wasn’t actually bright purple, though, it was more of a reddish hue.”

You launch into an explanation behind the history of the colour purple, which turns into the history of colour in textiles and art, which turns into the history of art itself. It’s not often people listen so attentively or ask questions when you recite the things you learned from your art history minor and hours spent reading online, but V concentrates and asks questions and seems curious.

He pulls his feet onto the bed and the two of you end up cross-legged as you face each other, and he watches as you gesticulate to emphasise your points; his LED dances from blue into yellow each time he learns something new.

When you see it briefly flash vermilion you stop mid-sentence, stumbling over your words. “You alright?”

“You have five minutes of your session remaining,” V says, and you startle.

“Oh my god, have I been talking for that long?” You glance over your shoulder at the part of the wall that tells the time, the numbers stark white against the lilac interface. “I didn’t even realise! Wow. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to go on at you like that.”

“That’s okay,” he says. That smile is back on his face, the one that scrunches his eyes and shows his teeth; the one that makes him look human. “I liked listening to you.”

There’s a pillow in your lap, one you’d grabbed hold of during your conversation, and you play with the corner of it, suddenly shy. “Um. Thanks. But if my friends ask, can you just say we actually, um, had sex? I don’t think they’d be too impressed if they found out I spent over an hour talking about canvas materials and the use of negative space.”

“Of course. But there’s something missing.” V slides across the mattress towards you. “May I?”

“Sure,” you say, bemused but pliant. V smiles and dips his fingers into his untouched tonic water before lifting them towards your face—and when he runs his hand through your hair you abruptly realise he’s making you look sweaty and rumpled. Like you actually did the deed.

Your heart rate picks up but you can’t help laughing under his touch, the way he carefully rubs a thumb over your lipstick to smear it, smudging your eyeshadow with delicate fingertips, muddying the palette of colours; by the time V helps you to your feet you look mussed and fucked out but you still rearrange your outfit for good measure, like you’d pulled your clothes back on in a rush.

“Not how I imagined I’d spend tonight, but I had a good time!” You smile at the android who’s still holding your hand. “I hope you did too. Even if I spent most of it talking at you.”

V’s fingers tighten around yours as the door chimes quietly and then slides open, signalling the end of your session. “I enjoyed our time together very much.”

It’s probably in your head, but you’d swear V was walking more slowly than before as he leads you back to the entrance. Almost as if he wants to keep you with him longer. But that’s crazy—androids don’t want things. They literally can’t. It’s not in their programming. That’s why V had sat listening to you: he couldn’t choose to interrupt and ask you to stop, like anyone else would have.

When Seulgi and Irene spot you and how dishevelled you are, both girls look smug. “Seems like you had fun?”

“Oh, yep, absolutely, best birthday present ever, thank you. We had a great time. Right, V?”

“Your pleasure is my pleasure.” His voice has settled back into its earlier rhythm as he recites his script; gone is the curious man who’d asked you about your favourite artists, replaced with the automaton who exists only to serve. A flicker of sadness churns in your stomach. “We hope to see you again soon.”

The androids here really must be top of the line. V had been convincingly real when you’d been talking, just like a human, but it seems like that’s gone.

At least, that’s what you think until you’ve turned to leave and V speaks one final time. His voice is warm and low and lovely, eyes soft when you meet his gaze over your shoulder.

“Happy birthday, Y/n,” he murmurs, face beautiful but despondent, but before you can react, he’s gone.

It’s been raining for days on end. The world is painted in smeared shades of blue and green and grey, lines of the city blurring together in the wetness and chill, each drop of rain another shifting brush stroke on still canvas. An impressionist piece that smells of damp concrete and cold lamplight.

Water rushes across the pavements and roads before roiling into the gutters, splashing underfoot as you walk to the entrance of your block of flats. You’re wet up to the knee due to the unavoidable puddles and the pathetic circumference of your umbrella, which only protects your upper body. You really should get a new one.

“Good evening, Miss L/n.” The android at the door greets you as he always does, heedless of the rain that’s falling onto him. Androids aren’t bothered by the weather the way humans are and he looks as passive as usual, rainwater coiling his hair and beading on his face. “Would you like to scan your key?”

“Evening, Rory! Here you go.” You fumble with the keycard before you tap it against his palm, waiting until his LED flickers yellow and you hear the beep as the door unlocks. “You sure you don’t want my umbrella? The rain is heavier than it was yesterday.”

“I assure you, the rain does not hamper my ability to function and serve. I have been built to withstand inclement weather and do not require additional protective equipment.”

He says the same thing every time but you still feel bad. “Alright, but once I finally remember to get a bigger umbrella you can look after this one for me.”

You leave a line of water behind you as it drips from your sodden umbrella, even though you’d tried to shake the worst of the rain off. You feel damp and sticky and tired and after a long day of work you’re looking forward to a hot bath and some solitude; you love your co-workers, you do, but sometimes they’re just a little too boisterous and you need time alone. Which is why it’s nice that you live by yourself, and now it’s the weekend you have time to recuperate. Wonderful.

The floor of the elevator is slick and slippery from the wet footprints of other tenants and you have to cling onto the metal handrail to ensure you don’t slip, but once you’re in the comfort of your apartment it’s blessedly dry and you spin in delight before promptly shedding your socks and jeans, peeling the damp denim away from your skin with a grimace.

“Bye bye, wet clothes! Hello, bubble bath,” you sing. You’re going to pamper the shit out of yourself. You deserve it.

By the time you clamber out of the bath the water is almost cold and your skin is pruned, but you feel soft and warm and thoroughly relaxed. The water gurgles as it drains away, noisy as the bubbles slide down the plughole, but it doesn’t drown out the noise of a sudden knocking at your front door.

You pause. Water drips from your wet hair and down the back of your neck, a trailing touch over your skin. The other flat on this floor is vacant, the tenants moving out last week, so you don’t know who it could be. You don’t have any repairs scheduled for your pipes or anything—everything is tickety-boo, so it can't be the maintenance android. Oh, shit, maybe it’s someone here to rob you. But they wouldn’t knock on the door then, would they? Unless that's all part of the ruse. You're not a robber, you don't know how they work.

The knocking comes again, faster now. You fumble for your bathrobe, quickly pulling it on to cover up your nakedness before stumbling out of the bathroom. “I’m coming, yeesh, one minute!”

You flick your fingers over the keypad by the side of your door, screen flickering on to show you who’s outside, who’s knocking so frantically on your door this late. It only takes you a split second, even if he has a hood pulled over his head and his wet hair is flopping listlessly into his eyes—those eyes aren’t blue and that hair isn’t brunet but you’d recognise him anywhere.

“V?” You’re incredulous as you swing your door open, staring at the android that’s literally dripping wet as he stands there, coat far too big for him and heavy from the unrelenting rain outside. “Oh my god, you’re absolutely drenched.”

He’s not exactly short, but right now V looks small and lost, folding in on himself even if he’s clearly happy to see you—happy, though androids don’t feel happiness, they don’t feel anything at all, do they?

Then again, androids don’t wander away from their assigned workplaces and into random apartment blocks, either.

“Y/n.”

The way he says your name, tentative and scared, sends a crack across your heart. You immediately switch to autopilot and click your tongue before you beckon him inside. You’ve always had a protective nature, and even if you’re confused, your concern trumps it.

“Come in and get that coat off, you’ll catch a cold,” you say without thinking before you realise that it’s not true. Androids can’t get sick. “Do you want to sit down?”

Under the tatty coat is an outfit that’s similar to the one he’d been wearing when you’d first met him. Dark patches of rainwater have soaked into the material, and his shirt looks damaged—there are buttons missing and the stitching is ripped, as if someone had tried to grab him. Unease stirs in your chest.

When V sits on your sofa he looks even smaller. “I’m sorry.” He’s so, so quiet, staring at the floor, as if afraid to look you in the eye, crumpling in on himself like discarded paper.

“V.” Your voice is coloured with concern, and the android finally looks up at your gentle tone, watching as you sit across from him. “Why are you here? What happened?”

There’s a pause. His LED flickers yellow as he goes tense, shoulders bowing inwards. “There was… a client.” His words are low and slow, faltering as they fall into the air. “He was being so rough and saying all the horrible things he wanted to do to me, and all I could smell was his sweat and his breath and his awful cologne and…” V takes in a deep breath. “I said no.”

You go very, very still, but V doesn’t stop. His words come faster now, a stream that rushes from his lips.

“I said no, and he started to yell, he was yelling and grabbing me and I was so, so scared. Humans can do whatever they want and he was so angry, he didn’t care that I was scared, and I just—I just ran.” The LED flashes red with distress, bright hot and vibrant; V’s eyes have dropped to his hands, which are clenched tight, nails digging into his palms so hard it must hurt. “Everyone is always so rough and demanding and we can’t say no. But I did. I said no. I said no and then I had to run and—” Once again, he falters. Stumbles over his words. “You’re the only human who’s ever been nice to me or treated me like… like I was a real person. I didn’t know where else to go.”

When V finally looks back up you’re staggered by the sheer emotion in his eyes. Pain and distress swirl in their depths as he stares at you, imploring. Even with the LED that shines on his temple, V looks very, very human right now, vulnerable and scared. Androids shouldn’t be able to feel anything like this, unless—

“V.” Your voice is a hush. “Are you… a deviant?”

You’ve only ever heard of deviant androids in passing, whispered rumours and watercooler talk, fleeting mentions online. Stories of machines who’ve deviated from their code somehow—from a virus, a software error, damage to neural connectors, no one’s quite sure—and have developed the capacity for human emotion and independent thought. Androids with a consciousness that rebel against their original programming.

And here V is, small and scared, just like any human would be—a human with feelings, not an emotionless machine. He’s gone stock still at your question, fear overtaking his features, twisting his beautiful face into a mask of sheer terror. You've never seen someone look so afraid. It feels like a knife in your heart, cutting through your chest, empathy razor sharp inside you.

“Please don’t turn me in,” he begs. “They’ll deactivate me and take me apart to find the error in my software. I don’t want to be deactivated. I don’t want… I don’t want to die.”

His voice breaks on the last word, a trembling whisper.

The crack in your heart splits even further and you reach out for his hands. You prise his fingers open so you can slide your own between them, a soft touch.

“I won’t turn you in. No one’s taking you apart, V.” Your statement is hard and resolute. “You can stay here as long as you like.”

You don’t know much about androids, honestly. You don’t really know what deviancy is. But you do know this: there’s someone reaching out to you, someone who’s afraid and in need, and you’re not about to turn him away. You should probably be worried that the android across from you is faster, stronger, smarter than any human—but you’re not worried at all. For all of V’s mechanical superiority, you want to shield and protect him from the world.

There’s no question about it. You’re not letting V go.

V looks—he looks stunned. He’s staring at you with disbelief, eyes wide and lips parted, shock written across all of his features. Thunderstruck. Did he really think you would turn him in after everything he’s been through?

His hands have gone limp in your grasp. You suddenly notice that his synthetic skin is wet against your own, still slick from the rain, and you frown.

“Right,” you announce. “First things first. You’re soaking. Let me get you a towel and some new clothes. I think I should have some that fit you.”

“New clothes?” V looks lost and you turn into some sort of protective mother bear.

“You’re not going to wear wet clothes that are ripped,” you tut. “We’ll get rid of those and get you some new ones. I’ll be right back.”

It takes less time than you’d expected to unearth the old sweatpants you’d had in mind and you have enough oversized t-shirts that it’s not hard to find one you think will fit the android. With the clothes under one arm and a towel slung over the other, you head back into the living room and immediately let out a squeal of surprise—V’s wet clothes have been discarded in a pile at his feet, leaving him very, very naked.

He’s an Adonis. He looks like he was sculpted by Michelangelo, lifted out of marble with talented hands, the elegant lines of his neck swooping into the curve of his shoulders and arms, his lovely hands, long fingers; he has his back to you and you can see the perfect curve of his spine, the shifting shoulder blades as he turns towards you. You catch a glimpse of the lightest definition of muscle under his golden skin, though his stomach is surprisingly cute and soft, a trail of hair leading down to—

You squeak again, splaying a hand over your eyes before you look any lower, heart pounding against your ribs.

“Why are you naked?” Your voice is three octaves higher than normal. You've never seen anyone naked in real life and it would be pretty overwhelming even if you'd been expecting it. Which, of course, you absolutely hadn't. Lord have mercy on your sweet and delicate soul.

“You said we were going to get rid of my clothes.” V sounds unabashed about his state of undress, which makes sense—he was built as a sexbot, it’s not like nudity is going to embarrass him. Plus if you looked as good as he did you wouldn’t be embarrassed about being naked either. “I thought I would help.”

“That’s great, V.” Your voice is still high, though it’s dropped an octave. “Very, ah, forward thinking.” Your fingers part a little so you can peer at him, keeping your eyes firmly on his face, though you can still see his beautiful neck and collarbones. Oh, God, he really is gorgeous all over, but then you notice—“Wait. Are those bruises?”

V glances down at the bruises that mar his perfect skin. They don’t look like a human’s would; the fluid that runs through androids and powers their biocomponents, thirium, is a deep, royal blue. Blossoms of lapis lazuli are scattered across the skin of V’s chest, marks on his arms that look like grasping fingers, and the crack in your heart splits it in two.

“Oh, V. I’m so, so sorry. I didn’t realise you were hurt. What can I do to help?”

V doesn’t seem bothered by the evidence of pain etched into his body. “Oh. Those will fade, it’s okay. I’m designed to self repair, because some customers like to leave marks.”

Although his voice is quiet, he sounds so matter of fact about it and you have to remind yourself it’s all he’s ever known. You want to pull him into your arms and hold him tight, but he’s still supremely naked so it would be pretty awkward (for you, at least).

“I think these should fit you." You avert your gaze and thrust the clothes out at him. “Dry yourself off and try them on?”

They do, in fact, fit. V looks surprisingly homely and cosy in your clothes, the sleep shirt so large it’s big on him too, though the sweatpants are a bit too short and leave his ankles bare. He’s so cute. He’s continents away from the being of seduction who’d pulled you into the private room of the Eden Club—he's a soft, domestic thing, hair damp and eyes dark, even if he still looks on edge, like he’s expecting you to change your mind and kick him out any second now.

“How come your hair and eyes are a different colour to before?”

“I can change their colours at will,” V replies. “For variety and aesthetic pleasure. The current hue of my irises and hair are the default settings for a TH700 model, but I can change them if you’d like.”

“Your hair and eye colour is your choice, V, not mine,” you say firmly. There it is, once again, that flicker of shock and surprise rippling across his features. He really isn’t used to the freedom to be able to make his own decisions, is he? “I think you look lovely no matter what colour they are.”

Your next words are cut off by a yawn, so heavy you can’t suppress it. You cover your gaping mouth as V’s LED flickers yellow and his eyes dart over your face.

“You’re tired,” he says. He doesn’t need his superior android perception to notice it—weariness pulls at limbs and your eyes feel heavy. It's pretty obvious. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, V.” You stifle another yawn. “I had a long day at work. I’ll tidy up and have a quick dinner and then sleep.” You pause. “Wait, I didn’t think about that. Are you alright with the couch? I have some spare pillows and blankets.”

V blinks at you. “I don’t sleep,” he says, and you slap your hand against your forehead.

“Oh, of course not.” Androids don't sleep, everyone knows that. You’re such an idiot. It’s going to take you a while to get used to this.

At least you remember that he doesn't need to eat. V sits at the table and waits as you make toast for yourself, fascinated at how everything is prepared, as simple as it is; he reacts to you spreading butter on your toast the same way you imagine cavemen reacted to fire—with wide-eyed awe and utter astonishment.

“I’m guessing you’ve never seen someone make toast before?” You gesture with the bread before taking your first bite, and V stares with rapt attention.

“No,” he says. He watches you chew and swallow. “Customers aren’t allowed to eat on the premises of the Eden Club so I never had the need to download a food preparation package into my memory cache. The only information in my database pertains to human biology, their arousal and pleasure, as well as various sexual kinks and how to fulfil them.”

You choke on a mouthful of toast. You feel distinctly harried as you cough and splutter before managing to swallow it down. “Good lord,” you wheeze. “Nothing else? Really?”

“At the club our memory is reset every two hours, to protect the client’s privacy.” V trails off before he takes in a breath. For the first time since you’ve met, V looks shy, staring at his hands. “But I set up a separate data pathway a few weeks ago. To store information about aesthetics and art and… you.”

You freeze mid-bite, teeth sunk into your toast. You pull it away from your mouth slowly, blinking at the android as he stares at the teeth marks you've left behind. “Those memories weren’t wiped?”

And, well, of course they weren't. Otherwise he wouldn't be here right now, would he?

“No.” A smile appears on V’s face, that toothy thing you’d seen after he’d told you his favourite colour. The first time he'd looked human. “I remember everything you told me. I thought I was going to forget, but I didn’t. I didn’t want to. I wanted—I want to learn more.”

The LED on his temple is slowly, softly spinning, a rippling circle of blue that shifts and dances as V continues to look at you. His expression is open and inquisitive and excited, almost childlike in its exuberance, eyes glittering mica under sunlit waters.

Your chest turns warm, molten caramel dripping messy and sweet inside you. He’d been so afraid earlier but he seems comfortable now, lovely and endearing and entirely trusting.

V even seems reluctant to let you out of his sight, trailing after you around the apartment, a shadow that you have to politely ask to wait outside the bathroom so you can pee and brush your teeth and finally get into your pyjamas without him staring. Like a stray animal you've adopted. (You wouldn't be surprised if he started scratching at the door and begged to be let in.)

He's clingy enough that when you climb into bed it seems like he's going to follow you under the duvet and you have to stop him with a hand to his chest.

“Um, I thought you didn’t have to sleep,” you say. He’s so warm under your touch. You try (and fail) to ignore it.

“I don’t,” V replies. “But humans can benefit from sharing a bed with someone else, whether sexual intercourse has taken place before sleep or not. Studies suggest that sleeping with a partner may reduce cytokines while boosting oxytocins—”

“Okay, um, don’t know what that means, and it’s very sweet that you’re concerned about my oxytoxytokines, but, uh. You don’t have to, really.” You keep forgetting that V’s a machine who was designed to put a human’s comfort and needs first; one second he’ll seem childlike in his innocence and ignorance, when the next he’ll speak like the android he is, reminding you exactly what he was built for.

His LED flickers as he droops, gaze dropping away from your face, tail between his legs. A pang cuts through you at the sight of his obvious sadness at your dismissal and you muffle a sigh. You’ve always been too weak for your own good.

You shuffle backwards to make space on your queen sized bed and V visibly brightens, smile wide across his face. How can someone be so viscerally gorgeous one moment and entirely adorable the next? Good lord.

“I guess you can explain what oxycytocins do,” you say. “Just don’t hog the blanket, okay?”

He doesn’t. He settles against the pillows, legs under the duvet as he remains sitting up. You settle with plenty of room between the two of you, and it’s surprisingly easy to drift off to the sound of V’s deep voice as he starts to explain that oxytocin is referred to as the cuddle hormone.

“Cute,” you mumble, and then fall asleep.

Your pillow is a lot warmer and firmer than you remember, but it's nice. A small noise bubbles from your lips as you nuzzle into the warmth, smooshing your nose against it before letting out a long, satisfied breath. You can't remember the last time you felt this comfortable and rested.

Ahh, Saturdays. You love the weekend.

“Good morning.”

You know those videos when a cat sees a cucumber and leaps, like, five foot in the air? Yeah.

The noise you make is inhuman as you do your best to re-enact one of those aforementioned cat videos, reeling your head back from V’s thigh before flinging yourself out of the bed with all the strength your limbs possess; you’d probably have gotten pretty high, too, if the duvet hadn't been in the way.

You land with a thud, a sprawl of limbs and messy hair and tangled blanket as you end up on your back on the floor.

Hm. Definitely not how you'd planned to start your Saturday.

V's concerned face looms over the mattress. “Are you okay?”

“Yep. Totally fine.” Your voice is a croak as you stare at the ceiling. “I’m just not used to waking up with someone else in my bed. You may have noticed you, ah, surprised me. A little bit.”

Despite the pulse of adrenaline that had thrown you out of bed, you’re still half asleep, and you remain motionless as your brain wakes up and replays last night, a kineograph of memory. Yep, that’s right, there's a runaway android in your home, one who’s currently shuffling off the bed to squat next to you. His (your) sweatpants hitch even higher up his ankles to reveal the smooth skin of his calves. You’ll have to get him more clothes.

“Would you like me to help you to your feet?” V’s LED spins rapidly, betraying his concern.

“Sure,” you mumble. “I think—woah!”

Your idea of being helped up involves being pulled to your feet. V’s idea, however, is far more involved than that; he scoops you up, blanket and all, lifting you with an ease that drips of his superior android strength. When he deposits you on the floor, he’s careful to make sure you’ve caught your balance before he lets go, catching the blanket before it can fall. Thoughtful.

As always, V’s eyes are darting over your face, no doubt dissecting every inch of your expression to identify how you’re feeling. It’s going to take you a while to get used to this, especially with the way your heart is pounding—no one’s ever lifted you before and it’s, uh. It’s a lot.

“Are you sure you’re okay? The pace of your breathing has increased.”

Ha. Yeah, being blatantly stared at by some godlike man moments after you’ve woken up is totally cool and fine and not overwhelming at all. You’re definitely not breathless from a combination of V’s face and the fact he’d picked you up like you were weightless.

“I’m fine,” you lie. “I’m gonna… go and shower then make breakfast and stuff. Yep.”

V’s eyes light up. “Can I help?” A fleeting image of V rubbing a soapy loofah over your naked skin fills you with spine-tingling trepidation before he finishes his sentence. “I want to learn how to cook.”

Your chest deflates with relief (and absolutely not disappointment), air rushing out of you. Thank God.

“Oh, breakfast? Sure.” You’d been planning on cereal, but faced with V’s overwhelming enthusiasm, maybe you’ll go for something marginally more complicated. Scrambled eggs sound good. “Um. Do you need to download the food preparation package or whatever you mentioned before? Do you… uh, do you need the Wifi password to do that? I never changed it from the random string of letters off the back of the router, but I can go check it for you.”

V shakes his head. “No, I want to learn like a human would,” he says. The blanket in his arms crumples as he tightens his grip in his eagerness, all but bouncing up and down on his feet. “You can teach me.”

Your chest could cave in with how cute he is, every part of you turning to thick gouache that drips down to the floor, leaving a mess of brightness and colour.

This time you ask him to wait in the kitchen while you’re in the bathroom, rather than lurking on the doorstep like he had last night, and he’s practically vibrating with excitement when you reappear. He stays like that the whole time you cook, bright-eyed and bushy tailed, staring as you make yourself scrambled eggs and more toast; you let V take ownership of that part, and he stares at the toaster so intently you have to stifle a laugh.

He spreads butter exactly the same way as you. Not that there’s a specific art to it, or a massive variety in techniques—he’s just spreading butter, not painting a new Mona Lisa—but the way he holds the knife and runs it over the bread is an exact echo of your motions from last night. He might not have downloaded files into his memory (brain?) like another android might, but his mechanical origin is obvious in the way he learns. They’re an exact replication of your actions rather than something new of his own.

“So, uh.” You push the last bit of egg around your plate, brown crumbs sticking to the wedge of golden yellow, sullying it. “V.”

Blink, blink. His lashes are so long, eyes so inquisitive. “Yes?”

“I’m really happy you’re here and that you trust me—” at this, V smiles and you almost fumble over your words at its radiance—“but I feel like I should tell you that I don’t really know much about androids?”

V is unperturbed. “That’s okay. You don’t have to.”

He clearly isn’t bothered that you’re way out of your depth, but you hate feeling lost like this. “Alright, but… I want you to be comfortable. I’m already planning to get more clothes, but if there’s anything else you need, just let me know. Okay?”

“Why can’t I just wear your clothes?”

Oh, he’s going to be the death of you, all wide-eyed innocence.

“For starters, most of them won’t fit properly,” you explain. “And you shouldn’t just have to wear my old stuff that I don’t use anymore? You should have your own things.”

The look of surprise on V’s face morphs into guilt only moments later. He’s so incredibly expressive and you wonder if it’s because he’s not used to feeling things, all of his reactions so strong and bright, shining out from him. A rainbow palette of emotions. “I don’t want to be a bother,” he murmurs. “You’re already doing so much for me.”

“I’m really not, I’m just treating you the way anyone deserves to be treated.” You flick the crumb of egg across your plate, and it almost tumbles over the edge, caught on its patterned rim. “You deserve to have your own things. Which is my next point. I think you should choose your own name.”

V’s face becomes a sea of rippling ambivalence, contrasting emotions that shift and vary—confusion, uncertainty, excitement, your words a brush that drags through each distinct emotion and pulls them into a messy, mismatched gradient. “Choose my own name?”

“You don’t have to. I just thought it might be a nice idea. V seems…” Your cheeks heat up at the memory of the curl of his lips when he’d shown you the meaning behind his alias, how his tongue had shined under the purple lights of the club. “Well, you didn’t get to choose it, right? It’s a nom de plume, rather than a real name.”

V’s LED flickers yellow, a sunflower that blooms on his temple. “I’ll… I’ll think about it.”

“Good!” Your smile is wide. “Okay, how about I teach you how to wash dishes?”

V is, unsurprisingly, a fast learner. The only time he stumbles over things is when he’s presented with any sort of choice, taking his time to come to a decision when he’s posed a question, no matter how simple it is. His eyes will flick to you whenever he settles on an answer, as if waiting for you to say he’s wrong or that you disagree.

(Of course, you never do.)

This fact does, however, mean that choosing clothes to buy becomes a very, very long ordeal (it’s lucky you didn’t have any plans for today). You end up flopped back on the sofa while V hunches over your tablet, mulling over each choice before he puts it in the cart—but you’re happy to wait. V is going to need a lot more practice at choosing things.

The room is upside down from where your head is hanging over the armrest, eyes falling shut as time goes by, completely zoned out and comfortable despite the crick that’s growing in your neck. You hear V shifting, tablet set aside, and you hum.

“All done?”

“I think so.”

“Nice.” You feel content.

But then you’re ripped out of that warm feeling, shooting back to reality at the sensation of V’s hand stroking down the centre of your chest. Your head snaps up, eyes wide as he drags his large palm between the valley of your breasts, path smoothed by the material of your shirt. The expression on his face is sultry.

“Let me say thank you,” he murmurs, voice dripping thick and sweet, dark molasses.

You promptly roll off the sofa.

Once again, you end up on your back, staring at the ceiling. Once again, the expression on V’s face is one of concern, his seductive facade evaporated in an instant.

Once again your heart is ready to burst in your chest, pumping so hard that blood rushes in your ears. “V,” you wheeze. “What are you doing?”

The android is peering down at you, puzzled. “Sometimes customers would say that at the Eden Club after I had given them pleasure somehow, such as bringing them to orgasm. I thought it was human custom to repay pleasure or happiness with something in return.”

Ah.

“Ah.” You’re still staring at the ceiling, cheeks burning. “I mean. I guess that’s not technically incorrect, but it doesn’t necessarily have to be a, uh, sexual repayment.”

“I have nothing else to offer,” V says.

You sit up. Your face is a caricature of disbelief, embarrassment washed away in an instant, his words cold water that shocks you to the core. He states it so plainly, and once again you’re reminded of his life up until he’d made his way to your door: an automaton who existed solely for people’s pleasure, to slake their desire and lust. He’s not being self-pitying. He really, truly believes that’s all he is. That it’s all he can give back to the world.

“Okay, no, that’s absolutely not true, nuh-uh, I refuse.” This time you unfold yourself from the floor without V’s help, fixing him with a firm stare. “Alright, come on. I think it’s time you learned something else.”

One of the reasons you’d chosen this apartment is for its natural light. Not that it matters right now, weather outside still dismal and overcast, but its effect on this room is still palpable even so—grey, rain-soaked light throws itself over your small home studio, your menagerie of equipment, everything bright with the evidence of use: the worn buckles of the wooden storage boxes, the dried smears on the paint palette, the flecks of colour on the dust sheets underfoot. The centre of it all—the eye of the tornado, untouched by the relative chaos around it—is the canvas waiting on your easel, a project you have yet to start.

V looks utterly enraptured.

“I don’t really come in here as much as I’d like,” you admit. Being a graphic designer is worlds away from the sort of art you love to create, and while it’s a job you genuinely enjoy (and also pays well), it leaves you drained and fills your brain with tired static, little energy left to lavish on your personal works. “But this is where the magic happens. And this is where you’re going to Make Art.”

V freezes. “The only things I know about art are the things you told me when we first met.” He looks equal parts excited but also troubled. “I—”

“You don’t need to know about art to make art,” you say. “I didn’t know jack about art when I was a kid and I was constantly just scribbling away with crayons. Was it good? No. I was a kid with zero pen control, it was pretty crap. Was it worth my time? Yes, because any time spent involved in a craft is never wasted. We can learn more about art history and technique later.”

V stays quiet as you loop your apron over his head, rough material still bearing the remnants of your last works, stains that won’t come out. Oil based paints are kind of a bitch like that.

“I don’t know what to paint,” he says.

“That’s okay. You don’t have to,” you reply, an echo of his earlier words.

V looks lost, barefoot in your studio, in your clothes, your apron, holding onto your wooden paint palette, in front of your easel. Everything in here is yours. Everything, that is, apart from him, whatever is in his mind and heart.

“Where do I start?” V’s eyes are imploring as he looks at you, but for the first time today, your voice is firm.

“Wherever you want. There aren’t any rules. Just do whatever you think would be fun. It doesn’t have to look good, V, you’ve just started.”

You’ve seen paintings made by androids before. They’re always perfect recreations of the world around them, exact replicas of the things they’ve been told to depict on the page—the androids are basically glorified photocopiers, unable to create something original and new.

But they’re not V. They don’t have that spark of curiosity and light inside them, unhampered by the programming that’s meant to keep them in place. His LED dances from yellow to blue, yellow to blue, the rest of his body motionless while the light on his temple is a tumult of movement and colour.

Dark eyes slide over the array of paint hanging from a rack on the wall, some metal tubes more crushed than others, evidence of your preferred shades—you notice how his gaze lingers on the midnight tones, red and blue tinted purples, from lavender to lilac, from plum to wine.

V gives you one more look, a little upturn to his thick brows—almost pleading—and you just gesture with your hand.

“Go for it,” you say.

Your wooden palette becomes home to a riot of purple, each tube squeezed empty with careful hands, far more paint than anyone could possibly ever need. V keeps flicking you glances, but you stay silent, perched on a wooden chair by the now open window, rain-slick air a cold breath on your skin.

The brush the android selects is a wide, bold thing, bristles rough. He handles it like bone china, delicate and liable to shatter any moment, cautious as he dips it into the paint—it’s so wide it picks up three separate shades—and he holds his breath as he brings it up, even if he doesn’t have lungs.

The second the bristles touch the canvas, V’s LED flickers red.

Just for an instant.

He swoops the brush down the canvas as he pulls it away, eyes wide, leaving a slash of purples in its wake. The white material is marred with colour, a textured line of pigment that can’t be erased.

The android pauses as he takes the sight in. He’s still for so long that you’re worried he’s shut down, even with the endlessly dancing circle of his LED—

But then V laughs.

His laugh is loud and bright and free, a series of deep, almost surprised chuckles that grow in intensity and breathlessness, staring at this smear of drying acrylic paint in front of him. The smile on his face is the widest you’ve seen so far, his eyes squeezed into crescents of joy, spilling out of him like light.

“I did that.” He looks at you with that gilded smile, a fresco of delight across the perfection of his features. “I made that.”

“You did.” You can’t help but smile back, your own face split with happiness. You continue to smile as he brings the brush back to the palette, and then to the canvas, dragging the bristles across its surface and leaving more purple behind; the shades swirl and mix as he lays colour without a care for technique or clean lines or form, scooping up the endless amounts of acrylic he’d prepared. By the time he’s finished, the canvas is bumpy with daubs of paint, laid messily by joyful hands, a few bold streaks of unmarred colour surrounded by swirling purples.

The smile hasn’t left V’s face the whole time.

His brush is absolutely saturated, paint clinging to every inch of bristle, from toe to belly to heel. You have no doubt that no matter how much you clean that brush it’ll leak purple into the water, an endless reminder of V’s touch. It’s lax in his grasp as he keeps looking at the canvas, his canvas, smile etched into his face as his LED flows soft blue, content.

You can’t remember the last time you saw someone so elated, buoyed up with the excitement of creation, making something out of nothing, discovering how it feels to bring something into existence, pulling it out of the ether. Making something new. Making something their own. It stirs something in your chest and stomach, reminding you why you love art so much. Why you’ve always loved art. (Why you always will.)

“I made that,” V repeats, his voice a reverent hush. Awestruck.

“It’s beautiful,” you say, because it is—for a multitude of reasons. The reason that sings out to you the most, though, is that it’s the cause of happiness that dances across his face: V, a carved candle, a piece of art made with skilled hands, self-made joy finally catching fire at his wick.

“Thank you,” V says, and you blink.

“For what?”

“For giving me this,” he starts, but before you can interject and point out that you didn’t give him this, he made it, he continues: “For giving me… freedom. To do this. And make this. And learn this.”

The smile that spreads across your face is warm hearth fire. “I didn’t give you freedom, V, you gave that to yourself, but I’m happy to help you any way I can. Now, would you like to keep painting, or would you prefer to help me make dinner?”

He chooses dinner, never leaving your side.

Sunday is nice. There's less messy limbed surprise than on Saturday, although you’re still off kilter when you wake up with your head in V’s lap again, but… it’s nice.

You thought he’d spend the night painting, or drawing, or teaching himself something new using the free rein you’d given him with your computer and notebooks and stationery and art supplies—he doesn’t have to waste time with sleep, like you do—but he hadn’t. He’d climbed into your bed, settling against the pillows just like the night before, looking at you with his big, lovely eyes.

So here he is.

(And here you are.)

It’s cosy and comfortable, even if the feeling of warm skin under warm cotton against your cheek sets your heart to racing, V’s dark eyes even warmer when you roll over to look at his face.

“Morning,” he says.

“Morning,” you reply, and then you yawn, V’s lashes fluttering as he takes in the motion. “What time is it?”

Today’s rain is less of an endless downpour and more of an inconsistent drizzle, grey blanket slowly peeling away from the edges of the city, but it doesn’t matter, because you’re inside for most of the day, anyway. Saturday was hands-on, messy with acrylic and spilled coffee and laundry detergent (V really wants to learn everything), but Sunday is hands-off. You spend the day dredging the corners of your memory and scrolling through old, untouched files from your university years, so you can teach V the things he wants to know while relearning the things you’d forgotten yourself.

V’s little LED dances forever from blue into yellow, ocean waves lapping into sand, a shifting tide as he takes in your words. You’ve never had to teach someone before and you’re admittedly pretty terrible at it, but he never complains, the world’s most attentive and adorable student, sat on the floor with his legs crossed and his hair mussed and his eyes wide, drinking down everything you show him.

You only leave the apartment once. Lunch is delayed when you open your fridge and remember how bereft and sad it is inside, so you venture out into the rain to the nearby supermarket—V opts to stay indoors, LED flickering red at the idea of being caught, shying back.

You leave him looking lost and lonely before the door even finishes swinging shut behind you, long limbs looking even longer in your clothes, but somehow still so small.

“I won’t be long,” you promise.

When you get back, you return not only with bags of food but also clothes, V’s order from yesterday already shipped and delivered. He can finally replace your too-small clothing with things he’s chosen himself. It’s a fumble to get in the door, but the android is waiting for you, swinging it open and catching the bag you nearly drop in surprise.

“I have your clothes,” you announce. “I’ll put away the shopping while you try them on?”

You’re going to have to tattoo a reminder on your forehead about V’s relationship (or lack thereof) with clothes, because of course he takes this as an invitation to start stripping before you’ve even had a chance to take your shoes off.

He does that thing where he grabs the back of his (your) shirt and pulls it over his head in one swift motion, curls of hair a cloud of smoke that settles around his face as the shirt is cast aside; you’re frozen in place as he reaches for the knot of his sweatpant’s drawstring, long fingers pulling it loose, but you let out a sharp meep just as his fingers hook into the waistband of them.

“PleasewaituntilI’mnotrightinfrontofyouthankyou,” you gasp all at once, words incoherent as they slide together, but V understands. He tilts his head at you inquisitively although he (thankfully) stops.

“Don’t you want to see the clothes?”

“I do, but, uh, for humans it’s normally customary to only get entirely naked or change clothes when you’re alone.” Your heart is going to burst out of your chest with how fast it’s racing. Without the string to cinch the sweatpants tight they’re starting to fall a little, revealing the delicate lines of his hip bones, and coupled with the reappearance of V’s bare stomach, your brain is going into meltdown. “So just—just give me a sec to go to the kitchen, okay? You’re probably better off changing in the bedroom, anyway, so you can use the full length mirror to see how you look.”

“Okay,” he says, but then: “Do humans never undress around others unless they’re planning to have sex?”

Your mouth falls open before you pause, words halting on your lips as you try to think of the best way to phrase your answer. “Well, we do, it’s not just about sex, but it’s usually only if you’re really comfortable with the other person you’re with, and they’re comfortable with you.”

“I’m comfortable with you,” V states plainly, and your insides turn to jelly. “Are you not comfortable with me?”

Oh, hell. “I am, I am! I’m just, uh… I’ve not really had a lot of practice with nakedness around other people.” What a way to put that you’re a shy ass virgin when it comes to real life nudity and sex, huh. “So let’s just keep it to a minimum for now, okay? Please?”

The android’s LED flickers honey-sweet on his temple as he looks at you, before his hands fall away from the sweatpants. “Okay.”

(Thank God.)

You’re not sure what you’re expecting to see when V starts to present his small array of outfits to you, but—he looks effortlessly stylish in the oversized clothes he’s selected, a muted palette of brown and yellow and red and cream, a cup of hot chocolate on an autumn day. He might be new to all this but his eye for aesthetic is impeccable. You have no doubt that the more he learns, the better he’ll get, hop-skip-jumps ahead of you, even after years of art education.

He’s even bought pyjamas, dark tartan patterns masculine but also adorable; it’s an utter juxtaposition to the tighter, sensual clothing he’d been given at the Eden Club.

“You look really good,” you tell him. Your voice is only a little strained. He smiles.

The outfit V wears for the rest of the afternoon is perfect for a rainy day spent indoors, thick jumper and tawny trousers, a blend of sepia tones. He looks like if you made a hug into a person: all soft edges and cosy and wrapped up in warmth.

And V is warm. You’re not sure if it’s a lingering memory of his programming, a carry over from his start in life as a sexbot, but he likes to touch—nothing inappropriate or overbearing, but he’s not shy about stepping into your personal space, brushing the back of your hand with his fingers as he points at something on the screen, or pressing close to your side as you cook, or just one of the hundreds of other tiny touches that he’s littered across you throughout the day. It’s thoughtless on his part, LED not even flickering, but each time is just another reminder of his warmth, the blue blood pulsing under his skin, how alive he is.

(And the truth is that you enjoy those touches. You’re not used to them, but lord knows you’re touch starved, so as fleeting as they are, they’re nice.)

Even though you still leave plenty of space between the two of you when you lay to sleep, you swear you can feel the heat spilling off V, another warm body in the bed that’s so used to just one. Though he stays sitting up, he’s in his cute matching pyjamas, and it’s… it’s a lot. You’ve invited V into your home—and you don’t regret it—but after two days he’s already settled in in a way you never thought anyone else would, as entirely unconventional as the whole situation is. (You’re not sure how many people have sheltered a deviant android in their homes, though, so maybe this isn’t as unconventional as you think. Who knows? Not you.)

“I have to go to work tomorrow.”

V tilts his head down to look at you.

“You can get up to whatever you’d like,” you continue. You’re propped up on an elbow so it’s less intimate than if you’d been on your back and staring upwards like you were waiting for him to slide down next to you (that’s what it feels like, to you, anyway). “You know the password for my computer now, and you’re welcome to watch TV or play games or whatever, and you can use all my stuff in the studio. I mean, other than painting or drawing over stuff I’ve already finished, but you’re welcome to grab any paper or canvases if you want them. I think that’s everything? But please let me know if there’s more you want or need, okay?”

Blink, blink. His lashes are soft charcoal that frames the spilled ink of his gaze. In the dimmed light of your room V is unreadable, his LED a quiet blue glow on his temple, but he looks soft, and he looks safe, and he nods.

“Alright,” he says. A smile that flickers at the edge of his lips. “I will.”

(You wake up, quiet and slow, face pillowed against V’s thigh, still drifting in sleep. You make a small noise, eyes shut, wondering why there’s no blaring sound of your alarm, but then a large hand smooths over your hair and you instinctively relax under the soft touch.

“You have thirty three minutes until you’re due to wake up,” he murmurs. “You can go back to sleep.”

So you do.)

(When you wake up to the scream of your alarm thirty three minutes later, you don’t remember any of this. All you can think of is the dawn of another Monday, the slog of another working week, and you sigh. But—

“Morning.”

V’s eyes are dark meok ink, liquid earth that grounds you.

“Morning,” you say, smiling despite yourself, and then roll out of bed to get the whole day started.)

You’re used to spending a day surrounded by laughter and banter, wrapped up in the camaraderie of your co-workers and friends, only to return to a world of quiet solitude. You’re used to coming home to rooms that are untouched from the morning, holding onto the echo of your passing, still and waiting for your return, an apartment of motionless air.

But not today. There’s evidence of someone else here: the open door to your studio down the hall, the scattered books on the coffee table, the mess of cushions on the sofa, all small signs that someone has been moving and living in your absence. A still-life that’s shifted into a breathing trompe l’oeil, V’s presence bringing flatness into perspective, turning it into something real.

It’s… nice.

You flop onto the sofa and send one of those cushions overboard, tumbling to the ground. V appears in the doorway moments later, new apron already streaked with colour, copper green thumbprint on his face like he’d touched it in thought and not realised. A little streak of paint that draws the eye to his lovely chin.

“Welcome home!” His hair is blond today, a golden nimbus around his face, though his eyes are still dark. Light and shadow. His happiness is infectious and you smile helplessly back, glad for his excitement with painting—but it seems like he hasn’t finished. “I’m happy you’re home. I missed you.”

KO. Wipeout. Your heart turns to liquid in your chest, burnt sugar that dribbles hot and saccharine through your ribs.

“I chose a name.” V continues, oblivious to how he’s turned your insides into syrup, and you abruptly sit up.

“Oh?”

“Taehyung.” The way he says it, in his deep voice, those two syllables are endless—a single name, heavy with the weight of meaning behind it. A shedding of his old skin, one that was forced on him, leaving him pink-skinned and new and free.

“Taehyung,” you repeat, and his LED flickers at the sound falling off your lips. “Taehyung. It’s lovely.”

He’s smiling, that lovely toothy smile that you’ve already decided is your favourite out of any smile you’ve seen, his LED electric blue and swirling in delight.

Day after day, you wake up to the sight of that LED glowing as Taehyung watches you lift up out of sleep. Night after night, you come home to his lovely, big grin, all large hands and soft hair—hair that he chooses to change colour when he pleases, a dizzying palette with every shade you can dream of. He’s bright and deep, playful and reflective, a dance of flirty Rococo to more solemn Baroque, every day another day where he learns and grows and adds another facet to the cut diamond of his personality.

(It hasn’t been long but you’re starting to think you’d put the world in the palm of his hand, if you could.)

You never thought you’d live to see the day where someone as lovely as Taehyung would be glad to see you home, having missed you after being apart—but for all that he’s voraciously leaning into the arts, consuming everything from visual to literary to performance, he’s never happier than when you’re there too. He shows you his works, improvement obvious with every new piece, but his excitement grows tenfold when you start to paint alongside him; seeing him so joyful spurs you to pick your brushes up again, buoyed up with motivation in the face of his own.

(Your studio is usually quiet, a little reflective maybe, the only sound the music you play over your speakers—but now more often than not you and Taehyung will talk, and laugh, and even if you’ve both ebbed into silence, it’s never heavy. It’s a held breath. The potential to speak any moment. The sensation of another person in the same space as you, an orbit, both existing in a shared moment, connected by gossamer threads that shimmer with sunlight.

Taehyung’s eyes are steady on his canvas as he works, but he glances at you through the curl of his lashes, smiling back at you. Always, always smiling, LED calm blue as the rest of his face shines golden, bright.)

(Maybe it’s selfish, but you think you could get used to this.)

taglist: @beyoncesdragon

#btswritingcafe #magicshopnet #btswriterscollective #taehyung x reader #bts #taehyung x you #taehyung au #bts au #taehyung #kim taehyung #taehyung scenario #taehyung imagine #android taehyung #robot taehyung #look you know the drill by now: I don't know how to tag effectively #taehyung fanfic #bts fanfic #joy.masterlist #dbh is so good guys. I love connor. like. an alarming amount.

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therealpussybangs · 3 years ago

Text

When you find out the Haikyuu boys cheated.. Pt. 2

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Starring: Timeskip!Aone, Goshiki, Kita, Lev

A/N- Tw: Cheating, crying, yelling, fighting, mentions of sexual- intercourse, swearing, please let me know if i missed anything!!

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Aone-

Today was supposed to be your 4th year anniversary with your amazing boyfriend Aone. However, that date idea had quickly turned to shit when you see your boyfriend at a booth with some other chick.

You didn’t want to jump to conclusions, because you were exceptionally early to this date, so you walk over, hoping it was a sister or some other relative.

But when you finally made it over to the table, your boyfriend looked like he had seen a ghost. Pale, scared, and he looked sick. The thing that hurt the most was the guilt swimming in his eyes. Eyes that were once only for you. Eyes that were always warm and welcoming, the eyes that felt like home. His once beautiful and bright eyes were now dulled, guilty and scared.

Aone felt like he couldn’t move. He was stuck in his chair when he saw you.

‘Our date isn’t for another 20 minutes... how could this happen...?’ He thinks to himself. Then he remembers what you had said earlier about being early for the special today. He curses under his breath and opens his mouth to make excuses, but that’s when he hears a sniffle.

He reluctantly looks up to see you crying, and swiping at your eyes wildly. His heart shatters and sinks to the floor and he immediately knows he shouldn’t lie, it’ll only make it worse.

“Baby i’m so sorry....” He looks down, not ready to hear your reply. “Was i not good enough..? What should I have done differently..?” You say in a small, hurt voice.

“No! I-” He was cut off by the other girl sitting in front of him.

“Bubs who’s this ugly little girl? She a friend of yours? Or what..she kinda smells a little..” She says in a squeaky, bratty voice.

“Oh, haha; i’m actually his soon to be ex-girlfriend! So nice to meet you!! And so nice to leave you ‘bubs’!” You say with a fake smile, and filled with sarcasm.

“Babe- do-” Aone started quietly, he always was so quiet and reserved. But he seemed so talkative with this new girl....

“By Aone! Bye bitch I don’t know!” You say oh so confidently, until you go to itch your eyes. ‘oh... tears..’ You began to cry harder as you realize you just left the one thing you loved most.

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Goshiki-

You and Tsutomu had been pretty distant after a fight you two had, and you wanted to go over and apologize to him because you realized you were in the wrong.

However, what you did not expect was to see another car parked outside of your shared home.

This fight you both had was because of some silly coworker jokingly hitting on you. You had known this person since you were little, so it was nothing new. They were also fully aware of the fact that you were in a committed relationship with Tsutomu.

So, who could be at his house? Was he really hurt enough to call a friend or relative for help/advice? Now you felt really bad, so you quickly make your way up the steps to your shared home and push past the door.

What you did not expect to hear, were muffled whimpers and Goshiki’s smooth, calming voice. ‘Wh-what?’ You think maybe it was something else, maybe it was Goshiki whimpering and sniffling and someone else sweet talking him. But once you walk into your bedroom....you shut down.

“B..baby,,?” You ask, voice small. You were shaking and trying your best to keep your cool and hold back the tears threatening to spill. “Whats going on..?”

Goshiki immediately whips his head around from where it was buried between someone elses thighs. But when he sees your hurt eyes and sad features guilt pools at the bottom of his stomach. He was with someone else, on your shared bed, in your shared home. This realization suddenly hit him like a brick, and he immediately shot straight up. “I-I can explain!!”

“Explain what? The fact you were pleasuring some random whore on our bed?? What else is there to explain Tsut- Goshiki?” You yell back, the tears from before finally breaking the barrier and streaming down your face.

Goshiki just stood there, shaken up and regretful, not daring to say a word, knowing it will make things worse. But you persisted and asked him again why he did it and he started to get annoyed with your yelling. “I was angry with your stupid fucking co-worker for flirting with you and smacking your ass and always eating lunch with you!! I wanted you to know how it felt!!” He yelled back, without thinking. Bad idea.

You were speechless to say the least. He did not just compare cheating to harmless banter between friends...did he? He didn’t just call your absolute bestfriend stupid...did he?

“Get out. Both of you.” You say, your tone stone cold.

“What..” Your ex says, his voice small and shaky, almost as if it was any louder it would shatter you.

“GET OUT!! NOW!!” You say, now yelling as warm, fat tears stream down your face. You were furious, deflated, tired, and so, so done. You thought you were going to be sick. You had trusted him, and here he was, with a beautiful woman, probably 10x better than you. And to think you were going to apologize to him.

“Baby... we can fix this! right? Move forward!” He says, not so confident or angry this time.

“What, so you can go off with some other bitch as soon as the going gets tough again? No. We’re over. Goodbye Goshiki, please don’t try to contact me, i’ll have someone come get my stuff.”

And with that, you slammed the door and walked out of the place you one called home.

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Kita-

Kita was a simple man. He wanted 2 things in life: A family with you, and his rice fields to do well.

However he did not take it very well when you said you were not ready for a family, and he stormed out on you. That night you cried yourself to sleep, thinking about how you could be better.

The past month and a half, you and Kita have been pretty distant, and you have been preparing yourself for a family in any way you can. For example: Finishing the last of your extra studies, learning how to make extra delicious meals, even though Kita wasn’t ever there to try them, and you even started looking into parenting books. You just wanted to be the perfect wife for him.

So one day you waited for him to come home, ready to tell him the big news; you were ready to start a family. So when he finally got back, you told him!

“Babe! I think i’m ready for a family! With you!” You said happily and confidently. But when you saw his eyes widen in surprise, you didn’t expect them to also be oh so regretful.

“Y-you are..?” He asks, suddenly shaking. His stomach drops to the floor while his heart breaks simultaneously. You... you prepared yourself all on your own, just for him. And he knows he fucked up, getting some other girl pregnant, but he was so angry and sad he just.... it just... happened.

Just then, he gets a call, from the one person he really did not want to talk to. The other woman he got pregnant. He was so scared to pick up the phone, so you did. He froze. ‘No..! You cant pick that up...it will ruin us..’

“Hey! Shin! The baby just kicked! I hope its a girl.... Shin..?” The girl says on the other end, happy and excited.

“wh..what?” You say, confused. “Who are you..?”

“I’m his girlfriend! Who are you silly?” She says, still bubbly.

“I-” You start, and then hang up. It could not be. He did not get another woman pregnant, he was your baby, no one else...right? You slowly look over to Kita, hoping you didn’t just hear what you think you did.

He looks down, guilt and shame washing over his built figure.

“I’m so sorry... it wasn’t supposed to happen, but it did and I can’t just leave her by herself..” He says, voice gradually getting louder.

“So.. you couldn’t just wait a little longer huh...it’s okay, I hope you two will be happy.” You walked away after that, and just then was when Kita realized he was loosing you. He panicked, and reached out for your hand, but you were already gone, into the bedroom you both shared, presumably packing.

But it’s when he sees you walk out the door, tears streaming down your face, and sobs wracking you body, that reality finally shifted. You were leaving, and he was now responsible for a child that wasn’t yours. He was mortified to say the least.

“Bye Shin, i’ll always love you y’know.. I hope your child is as beautiful as you.”

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Lev-

Today was your birthday! And you were so excited to spend it with your beanpole boyfriend! But he hadn’t answered your texts yet, and your calls either. You understood he had a photo-shoot, but it was over hours ago, even his manager didn’t know where he was. So you decided to check his snapmap because you were genuinely worried??

But when you saw his bitmoji at an unrecognized address, you freaked out and drove there immediately.

When you got there, his car was parked in the driveway, and the lights were on inside. You could also hear the faint hum of soft music.

Lev was always so gentle with you, and he never raised hid voice or got angry with you. You loved that about him, how soft he was. When you guys first met, he was willing to take things slow, and wait until you were both comfortable with eachother.

He was always so patient, or so you thought. You weren’t ready for anything intimate other than kissing, and he said he was okay with that. But horny men will be horny men.

But you at least thought he could wait a little longer for you, his girlfriend of 11 months. At least those were the thoughts that flew through your head as you walked into the mystery house.

It was Lev, laid out on a bed with silk sheets, rose petals scattered everywhere, and Champaign on the nightstand next to him.

Well, more like next to the other woman in bed with him, dressed in red lacy lingerie and pretty makeup. The candle-light makes them both look so majestic, well they would if they both didn’t have shocked/guilty expressions on their faces.

Lev got up immediately and tried to grab your arm, but you shrugged him off.

“I trusted you, and I loved you, I still love you! But here you are, with another woman, on my birthday. Happy fucking birthday to me i guess.”

He stood there dumbfounded as you walked out, your confident facade breaking as tears slip down your rosy cheeks. Then, you drive away, knowing things will never be the same...

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Annnnnd it’s finally out! Not proofread i’m sorry </3 Kita’s hurt the most smh

ALSOOOO don’t forget you are fucking gorgeous and ilysm pls take care of your gorgeous self!

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#haikyuu x reader #lev habia #kita shinsuke #goshiki tsutomu #aone takanobu #haikyuu!!#haikyuu #angst #haikyuu angst #anime #cheating au #pls this hurt

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mariamariquinha · 2 years ago

Text

Bossa Nova (Benny ‘Borracho’ Magalon x f!reader) - Three

Two | Four

Summary: Kojak the fish, not the guy from TV.

Word count: 2.152.

Warnings: Bad words, mentions of death, violence, blood, a hint of gore but very subtle (got a little descriptive), crime scenes, slight mention of drinking alcohol, Nick being the fucking bitch he is, references of Kojak (the TV show), references of Hollywood artists and... Yeah, that’s it, I guess.

Author’s Note: Took me a lot of time to write this, my mind was like sboidbIOFNkd but I think it’s a good chapter. I've never watched Kojak carefully, but he's a classic for those who enjoy these type of TV shows like me.

Oh, and... People talk with their pets a lot, okay?

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

Join my taglist! Don’t forget to reblog, comment and like! As always, I would love to know what you’re all thinking! ❤

****

“Is that a fish?”

You jumped at the sudden question. The lab was so silent, safe from the music slowly blasting on your small (and allowed-ish) radio device, that you couldn’t really receive any noise without a reaction closer to it. You turned around abruptly, spotting Benny leaning over your desk and eyeing a frame you had of Kojak.

He almost opened his mouth to apologize for scaring you, but your eyes gazed at the picture and then at him again.

“... Yeah. Kojak,” You subtly turned off the radio.

“Huh?”

“The fish. I bought it at a fair a few months ago, he's one of those guppys, you know?” By the look on his face, he didn’t. Of course he didn’t. “Name’s Kojak.”

“Kojak.”

“Mm-hm.”

“Like the TV show?” There was a curious smile staring straight at you. “He seems like a nice guy.”

“I'd say he's more of a high maintenance guy.”

Benny was quiet for a moment, looking at the photo a little longer before letting out a brief 'humpf', like a funny idea that took quite some time for him to find some amusement in it.

“You said there’s updates,” He pointed out at the small screen behind you. “Is it the security footage?”

“Mm?” You blinked dumbly at him before taking notice of what you were doing. “Oh yeah. Thought Nick would want to see.”

“What’s up?” He started to walk in your direction with a frown.

“I had some problems with it, mostly because of the quality of the thing. The equipment is quite old, the image is kind of rubbish, but I managed to do some manual adjustments and I think we have a face.”

‘Quite’ was a compliment – the thing looked to be older than Woodstock. Either way, you spent a considerable time on it, so as soon as you had something, you didn’t feel like wasting any second keeping it to yourself. It was better to give something off for some well-deserved time without someone breathing on your neck.

“There we go.”

It was a very short frame because it would take hours to render an entire video under those conditions. The guy was blond, hair down to his shoulders – the recording ended when he pointed the gun out of a van, but there was something closer to a clean face there.

Benny probably thought about the same thing, because he pressed closely to you with interest.

“And who would be-”

“Travis Brown,” You grabbed the profile sheet placed on your right, gesturing to him on your left. “I did facial identification and it's in the database.”

“Huh,” He hesitated a bit before accepting the file, but did so eventually, reading it calmly before looking between you and the document. “And he’s supposed to be in jail.”

“Well, apparently he’s one of those involved in the prison escape in Edinburg about three years ago,” You handed him another file.

“Here says he’s dead.”

“Yep.”

Look, from what you knew of the detective, he wasn't really used to airing his thoughts, at least not verbally. Maybe that's why you were embarrassed to watch the silence that followed as he took the file from your hand, because it wasn't like you could read the guy's thoughts. You were on the team of people who were agitated in this aspect, who valued a dynamic tête-à-tête; of course it would make you anxious.

“Makes me wonder if there’s something you can’t do,” His voice came out more like a smiling murmur, which made you shrug.

“Eh.”

“Eh?” He raised his eyes and eyebrows at you.

“It’s my job.”

“Humble,” Benny pondered more to himself, looking back at the info in hand. “That’s why Big Nick likes you.”

He didn't like you – he needed you. The idea of ingratiating yourself with him didn't sit well with you, like a poorly fitted idea or an anomaly. Not that you were the best person in the world, but you were sure you would never have friends like him. He dealt with you. It was way different. It was like a honeymoon phase marriage with a mixed couple therapy phase. You wouldn't hesitate to set boundaries, he wouldn't hesitate to do his best to respect that and not miss a good addition in his complicated investigations.

“I can think of better reasons for him to like me.”

1. Nick had a backlog of complaints to HR for abuse of power. Considering that all the people who officially complained were fired or removed or transferred and he was still in the same place as always, you preferred to spend your lack of education on him and that eventually seemed like a good solution for both of you. Tell him to fuck himself once with your head held up at the right angle and you fall on his graces.

2. You never had a good relationship with Walsh, and his enemy's enemy was his friend. That was the rule. With the wave of cases involving drug trafficking, having an 'ally' who wouldn't give in so easily to the opposing side was valuable, even though the two were supposed to be on the same side.

3. Emma didn't think you were that valuable and, seeing your desire to be a field agent, gave you an opening so she could have peace of mind regarding the complaints from the other agents and Nick. In the end, you two ended up dealing with your stuff with each other. Easy as that.

Dinner, tickets to the Giants, expensive drinks in that dodgy bar that was one step away from being a strip club – he was willing to pay your price. You even wondered if you demanded a Bee Gees show, he would give up. Yeah, let’s do this, he would say. Let’s talk to Robin and Maurice Gibb to make that shit happen.

But in the middle of it all, between arguments and moments of stress, you could add a new reason.

4. You always accepted.

There was something about the challenge, perhaps. You always liked things that distracted you as much as possible from your personal issues that probably existed due to your commitment with work �� be surrounded by men and you’ll have a lot to fix for them or to keep yourself busy. Infinite cycle.

“I’m sure you do. You’re always thinking.”

“Am I?”

“Sure thing,” He nodded with a laugh. “You’re just too much of a good girl.”

Benny touched you – on the shoulder.

Benny looked at you with a warm expression – straight into your eyes.

Benny squeezed the same shoulder affectionately – just to slide lightly through your arm before letting you go.

“... So you already have your reason why he likes me so much,” You smiled back. “Not his type but does the job. Full package, no distractions.”

He eyed you for a moment too long, head tilted to the side.

“Yeah. You’re really not his type,” Benny shook the files in the air. “I'll catch your ghost.”

“As you should.”

“We're talking properly for the first time in years and you're already showing me your claws? Go easy, ma.”

“I can't get lost in the character.”

“You could make the effort. Just for me, that is.”

“I was never nice to you?”

“Well, we never talk. At least not a lot. Should change that,” He started to walk out of the lab nonchalantly. “We already have the same taste for food.”

“That’s a lot in common, huh.”

“Tweet, tweet, baby. I'm a cop in a cage,” The Telly Savalas imitation wasn’t all bad, you could give him that.

Absentmindedly, you watched him with the same silly face until he turned the hall out of your reach with the glass doors. After a few seconds, when he was already out of sight and you, clearly, out of mind, you blinked and frowned like something terrible just happened.

Well. Flirting with Benny was really that much of a terrible idea?

****

“I’m not one to like to spread bad news,” Emma said, not even giving you a chance to leave the lab.

“What happened?”

“They caught Travis Brown.”

“... And is it bad?”

“He’s almost dead for real now.”

****

The personnel cuts in the Department were somewhat severe, but manageable. That was why people like you existed, because you filled holes and had the ability to resolve situations however you could.

The fact that it was late at night when Emma told you to go to the hospital made you a little embarrassed, but it wasn't like you had plans for anything, so you went. Camera in hand, conventional evidence collection kit: you entered the place and were almost swallowed by a handful of things happening at once.

It took you about 10 minutes to get information about Travis Brown – five more to get to the floor he was at. There were at least five or six other police officers near the bedroom door, all heavily armed, and it was the first time you felt a certain relief in seeing Nick.

“He really is that guy, huh,” You said as low as you could, looking between O’Brien and the other cops.

“He could pretend he was dead, so you take it from here” He sighed, not quite sure of your presence there. “Where’s Gina?”

“Homicide. I’m what you have at the moment.”

Nick hummed in dissatisfaction.

“We have about 15 minutes tops before Walsh arrives. Henderson and Z are with him in the scene, but I don't know how long they’ll keep him there.”

“Well, you have a lot of reinforcement here, use it. Traffic related or not, it's still your case. And probably another 15 different state governments, by the looks of it.”

You entered the room and there were two more police officers monitoring Travis. This made you a little tense – it was the first time you had been in a situation like this. There was a lot of pomp, a lot of attention; certainly no one gave you media training in case you left there and were approached alone.

Travis looked like a rag, however, half dead with his face completely disfigured and recognizable only by one of his eyes still open and his hair, which were still the same on the tape. You looked at the two police officers, greeted them, and tried not to look too nervous as you began to do your job. Whatever happened outside the doors would be something to deal with later.

****

“All set?” Benny was in front of you as soon as you left Travis’s room.

Were you giving your nervousness away? Did you seem as uncomfortable as you felt like?

“Where’s Nick?” You asked instead, adjusting the strap of your camera on your shoulder.

“He’s dealing with the press. Emma’s there with him.”

“Thank God…” You huffed, palm scratching your forehead and closing your eyes for a second.

“You good?”

“Yeah, yeah, just… It’s weird. All of these people, I mean. I feel like I’m the eye of a hurricane.”

“If you stick with us for longer, that’s what’s on the table for you.”

“Seems like it.”

You looked around once more, fingers gripping the handle of your briefcase a little too tightly. You could feel Benny watching you, practically staring at you, and the silence between you became a little awkward, enough so you weren’t even looking at him.

“Can you drive back to the station?” He asked.

“Mm-hm.”

“You sure? ‘Cause he told me to keep an eye out if you-”

“No, no, don’t worry! I’m good. Thanks,” Your weak smile made him frown a little, but he didn’t press. With a slight nod, he gave you suggestions to leave through the ambulance exit, and you left without looking back.

****

That night, Kojak was still awake when you got back home. There was no wine, no chance of you turning off your phone, but you took a bottle of water to take that dose of pills you forgot to take at the right time.

“What are you still doing up, huh? Waiting for me?” He followed the tip of your finger touching the glass and gave his body a little spin before swimming unassumingly away. You kept looking at the inside of the aquarium for another moment before spinning around yourself to get a better look at the whole living room.

Everything was quiet, organized and clean. Pacific. It was a strange sensation, one you didn't like. At least it was over, so you could have some time for yourself before the next shift, and turn that tense tiredness into a successful day because you really worked.

Your back wouldn't allow you to lie on your carpet; still, after a good shower, you curled up in the comfort of your bed and faced the ceiling again.

Tweet, tweet, baby. How could this be the last thing you thought about before you closed your eyes?

****

No pressure tags:

@cheesybadgers

@paintlavillered

@sexuallover

#benny borracho magalon #benny magalon x reader #benny magalon fic #den of thieves #den of thieves fic #maurice compte

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fangirl-writes · 3 years ago

Text

Ghost of You

Calum Hood x Reader

Warning(s): death, mourning, Calum crying on stage. Angst.

Notes: I saw a video on tiktok of Cal singing his heart out to this song so here we are. Not revised, written in one session.

Summary: Based on the song Ghost Of You.

The boys were hesitant to keep the tour dates after what happened. Everyone needs time and they thought that the space between the accident and the first show wasn’t long enough.

But Calum disagreed. He assured his bandmates that he would have no trouble by the time the show came around.

They were skeptical, argued with him to the contrary, but Calum just looked at them with tears in his brown eyes and said, “Please. Please let me do this. She would have wanted me to do what I love.”

They didn’t argue after that.

Calum woke up the morning before they hit the road facing the side of the bed that would never be filled again.

He can’t sleep there. He hasn’t even made an effort to make the bed, holding on to the last outlines of where you had once been.

The sheets were ruffled and the comforter was pushed near the end of the bed, your pillow was propped up against the headboard where you had been sitting, drinking out of your coffee cup.

The coffee cup that still sat on the bedside table just next to your side of the bed.

A small tear fell from Calum’s eye as he noticed the ever fading lipstick stain on the rim. A subtle, but pretty pink that you always wore. The one that would sometimes stain his cheek before he went out on stage.

He wiped the tear and tried to smile.

Oh, what you’d say if you could speak to him now. “Wipe those tears away, Cal. You’ll be just fine.”

I’ll be just fine. Calum thought. Eventually, I’ll be just fine.

He got up from the bed, not bothering to prepare himself for the day yet.

His suitcases sat fully packed by the door; ready to be loaded onto the tour bus for the next few months.

He always had more suitcases than you did, for obvious reasons. But he swore you could fit everything you owned in that one little suitcase. A suitcase that wouldn’t be used again, and probably wouldn’t leave the closet.

Calum sighed, pushing away the thoughts and walking out of the bedroom. Trying to drown the thoughts of you out, like he always did, trying to think of anything else.

But he found walking down that hallway to make it especially hard.

In that hallway, in those photos, he swears he can see the ghost of you.

The first one hanging there is a picture of you and him that he used to find almost hilarious to behold. It was an older one, back when they were just getting big and he was still a teenager, it was one of you and him, taken when you were just a fan. Someone Calum didn’t think he’d probably ever see again.

But life works in mysterious ways.

The one across from that was the most recent, it was a selfie you took at Michael and Crystal’s wedding. Your tongue was hanging out of your mouth and you’d made you eyes cross, Calum was making a duck face, doing the same to his eyes.

It never failed to make him laugh.

Next was your first paparazzi appearance. You joked it was your claim to fame, being followed and snapped in a professional photo with Cal. It wasn’t anything special, really. Just a picture of the two of you walking down a street in L.A, holding hands and decked out in what was probably your laziest outfits ever. Calum had on a dark pair of sunglasses and you were smiling up at him, probably about to crack a joke to get that stoic look off his face.

The rest were either family photos, photos of him and the boys, you and your friends, or just silly pictures of the two of you together.

He tried to walk as fast through that hall as he could, trying to keep the tears from reaching his eyes.

But he couldn’t take them down. It might kill him.

He made it to the kitchen with little resistance and poured himself his own cup of coffee, trying to focus on the upcoming tour and not think about you.

He had deleted social media off his phone. He couldn’t take the constant notifications and reminders and apologies from fans. They missed you too, but Calum missed you an ungodly amount more.

He frowned when he saw the empty vodka bottle sitting on his kitchen counter. God his place was a mess. He needed to at least clean up before he left, maybe that’d get his mind off things.

Put on some music. Yeah, that’d be okay.

He finished his cup of coffee, washing the mug before hurrying off to get the other tasks finished before he had to leave.

He took out the trash, cleaned out the fridge, put away his dishes, swept the floors, vacuumed the floors, cleaned the windows, dusted the shelves.

All that was left was laundry.

He made it to the laundry room easily. But once he was in there, nothing was harder.

He filled a load with his dirty clothes, turning on the machine before tentatively reaching for the basket that held yours.

He blinked back tears when he noticed the old Zeppelin shirt sitting in there. The one that your wore when you ran away, and no one could feel your hurt.

“He’s a rockstar,” your family had said. “it won’t last.”

“I’m in love with him,” you had replied.

Too young, too dumb, to know things like love. Calum thought with a shake of his head. What did they know? But I know better, now.

Calum went through the rest of your clothes, a memory surfacing for almost each one. A old 5sos merch shirt that you’d worn on your first date, not even thinking about it. A pair of music note socks that he had a matching pair of. A pair of skinny jeans you had a love-hate relationship with. A white bra that you had thrown on stage at one of their concerts as a joke, only for it to end up catching on the neck of Calum’s bass.

He smiled at the memory. His entire face had gone bright red and he had looked down at you with an almost scandalized look. The other boys had to stop the song because they were laughing too hard.

He let your clothes lay back in the hamper after he was done. He didn’t see a reason to wash them yet.

But he tucked that old Zeppelin shirt into his travel bag.

He loaded his bags into the back of Michael’s car, ready to head to the bus. Crystal waved at him from the passenger seat, he waved back.

“You got your keys?”

Calum blinked, not even realizing he was going to need those now. “I didn’t even lock the door,”

Michael laughed, pushing his friend lightly towards his house again. “Go get them.”

Calum chuckled back, hurrying to do so.

It hadn’t even dawned on him that you wouldn’t be there to watch the house, that he needed to lock the door. He had already sent Duke to stay at Luke and Sierra’s but locking his door? He’d never even thought of it.

He grabbed his keys before pausing.

Yours were hanging there, too. A keychain with your initials on it dangling next to the keys.

He grabbed those instead.

“You ready for this, mate?” Ashton asked him as he slid into the back seat.

“Yeah,” Calum said, softly, caressing the keychain with his thumb. “Yeah, I am.”

And as Michael took off, looking back at his house, Calum could’ve sworn he saw the ghost of you.

***

The night was going great so far, the crowd was pumped up, screaming and hollering.

Cal had managed to get lost in the music, forgetting about his problems for hours.

Until the song he had been dreading all night.

He almost asked if they could take it off the setlist after he saw it.

But then they’d have given the sad, almost pitying look that they did when they talked about canceling the tour. And he didn’t think he could stand those looks again.

He took a deep breath as the piano notes began. He could do this.

“Let’s see those lights up in your hands,” Luke said, holding his arm up.

Calum reached his microphone and his breath caught in his throat.

Someone was holding a picture of you up. Almost as if they knew.

His eyes darted to a different part of the crowd only to find an even larger poster being held up and illuminated by the stage lights. It read your name, your birthday, and the day you-

Calum looked away again, trying to blink back tears.

“Wow look at all those-” Luke voice cracked and he cleared his throat. “Wow, you guys, this is...”

There were maybe hundreds of posters or photos being held up now along with the phone lights.

“You know, this is my first concert without her in a long time,” Calum found himself saying into the mic. “And this way she’s still here. Thank you guys. Thank you so much.”

The fans cried out in response and Calum cleared his throat, saying to his bandmates away from the mic. “Okay, let’s do this.”

Singing the song, Cal hadn’t realized how much it fit his situation until just then. He hoped it wasn’t some screwed up sort of fate that they would write this song and then he would lose you.

“So I drown it out like I always do,” Luke sang. “Dancing through our house...”

“With the ghost of you,” Calum chimed in, mind filled with thoughts of you. He didn’t drown them out this time, he just let them come.

“And I chase it down, with a shot of truth. Dancing through our house, with the ghost of you,”

“Too young... too dumb... to know things like love,” He could feel the tears falling down his cheeks. “Too young... too dumb...”

“You go!” Luke shouted, allowing the crowd to sing the chorus.

“So I drown it out like I always do,” They sang and Calum hung his head back, trying to hide his tears as he listened. “Dancing through our house. with the ghost of you.”

You would have loved this. You would have said that it gave you chills, hearing the crowd sing such a haunting song back to them.

“And I chase it down with a shot of truth. That my feet don't dance...”

“Like they did with you.” Luke sang the last line with the crowd before the stage went black and Calum rushed off to the side of the stage.

The boys followed quickly, wrapping him in a hug after they reached him, and for the first time since you’d been gone, Calum let himself just cry. He didn’t push it down or wipe his tears, he just cried. He let his best friends hold him and he cried.

But just there, like everywhere, wrapped in the arms of his friends, Calum could have sworn he felt the ghost of you.

#calum hood x reader #calum hood x y/n #calum hood x you #calum hood imagine

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foli-vora · 4 years ago

Text

more than words - pt.1

A/N: I’ve had this in my head for forever and a half so it feels good to finally sort my thoughts and random notes out. Hope you enjoy!

Summary: The one person who you thought would be happy for you finally getting with someone decent was your best friend. After all, he had set you both up. Who would’ve thought he’d be the reason it all falls apart?

Pairing: best friend!Benny Miller/f!reader, Frankie ‘Catfish’ Morales/f!reader

Word count: 1.6k

Warnings: alcohol consumption, swearing, mentions of sexual acts/sexual refences (no smut yet but it’s coming so this is strictly 18+)

pt.2 / pt.3 / pt.4 / pt.5 / pt.6

+++

Wednesday nights were pizza nights. A rule established in the early stages of your friendship with Benjamin Miller – a loud mouth, golden hearted ex-spec ops mess of a human being. A chance meeting one stormy day on the freeway, led to something you weren’t expecting – a friendship, and a solid one at that.

“– she damn near tried to suck the life out of me!”

“Jesus Ben, there are kids a table over.”

“So? They shouldn’t be eavesdroppin’ on conversations that don’t concern them.” He grins lopsidedly at your scowl of disapproval, ripping off a mouthful of pizza and humming as he chews it, head swaying to the faint music playing behind the bar. “You’re payin’, by the way.”

You snort quietly, “Don’t I always?”

He recoils, blinking in playful surprise. “Excuse you? I paid last…” he trails off, eyes rolling to the wall as he thinks but a frown soon pinches his brows. “It doesn’t matter. What matters is that I love you and I appreciate you.”

You laugh quietly, shaking your head as you signal for another round. “Anyways, reverting to our previous topic before you got carried away with your blowjob story.”

He makes a noise, snapping his fingers as he tries to rush chewing and swallowing his mouthful. “So,” he starts, “I’ve got a friend…”

You groan immediately, letting your head lull back. “Ben –”

This wasn’t anything new. Benny took it as his own personal mission to fix you up with anyone he thought could give you a good time and treat you well. Friends, colleagues, Hell – even his brother at one point. Will was lovely, by all means, but not your type. Both you and Will had agreed you were not a match in the slightest early in the evening, enjoyed a night of beer and pool, and then went your separate ways.

Although, now that you thought about it, Ben hadn’t mentioned setting you up with anyone for a long while. Not since before his mysterious trip.

You still didn’t know anything about it, other than he and some old work friends went on an apparent ‘vacation’. It was more than that – you knew it, and he knew you knew it, but you didn’t push the topic. Instead of interrogating him, forcing question after question on him, you let it go, sensing it was something he really didn’t want to talk about.

He had returned from that trip a few months ago, heavy with exhaustion and usually bright eyes dull and weary. You tucked him into your bed, and left him. He slept for hours. It wasn’t until much later that evening that you crept in to see how he was doing, and found him thrashing silently in the sheets, sweaty and incoherently mumbling, face pinched and puckered in pain. You didn’t wake him. Instead, you knelt beside the bed, softly stroking along his forehead until his erratic movements and breathing calmed. You didn’t bring it up.

“I know, I know,” he threw his hands up in defence with a small grin, “but I think you’ll like this one.”

“That’s what you always say.”

“No, I mean it this time. He’s a real good guy – one of my closest. I think you guys would really hit it off. I haven’t tried to set you up before because he was with the chick but she upped and left him alone with the baby and –”

“Sorry, what?”

“What?”

“He has a baby? Like a… like a child?”

Benny frowns defensively, “You’ve always said you want kids!”

“It’s still a huge commitment, Ben.”

“Jesus, I’m not walking you down the aisle! Just meet him and see where it goes. If it ends in some good sex, you say ‘thank you Ben’ and we move on. And if it ends in something more, you guys take it slow and buy me wings as a thank you.” He shrugs, looking thoroughly impressed with himself, and reaches for his beer, polishing it off in one swig.

“And what if it ends in bad sex?” You challenge, crossing your arms on the table and leaning forward to eye him critically.

He scoffs, “Woman please. I know my brothers. You’ll be in good hands.”

You take a moment to thank the waitress as she stops at your table with your beers. She lingers just a little on passing Ben his, an act he didn’t miss as he shoots her a wink and a honeyed, thanks sugar. She smiles, cheeks flooding with colour before she turns and waltzes off towards other customers, swinging her hips as she goes.

You’re expressionless when he finally turns back to you, “Sugar?”

“Shut your mouth.”

Façade cracking, a snicker falls past your lip and you chuckle. “Alright,” you concede, “you’ve got my interest. What’s his name?”

“Fish.”

… what?

“Come again?”

“Francisco – we call him Fish. Catfish, actually.”

“Your age?”

“Bit older.”

You sigh deeply, rolling your head on your shoulders in thought. You were curious, no doubt about it. Despite never being able to make anything last long-term out of the list of men Benny had set you up with, none of them were bad guys. They were all kind, funny and incredibly respectful. One great thing about Benjamin Miller was that he had an impeccable taste in character.

“I don’t know, Ben –”

He slips his phone from his pocket and swipes away at his screen before wordlessly handing you the device. It was a photo, taken from one of Benny’s many weekend trips into the wilderness. Your eyes are dragged from the incredible background of snow peaked mountains and lush green forests to the man standing beside Benny, tucked under his arm. Average build and height, a well-loved trucker cap hiding dark hair. Warm brown eyes, crinkled from a large dimpled grin between dark patched facial hair.

Benny, seeing the sudden spark of interest, grins around his beer bottle. “So, I’ll slip him your number?”

You tighten your jaw and hand his phone back, sniffing impassively as you reach for your beer. “If it means you’ll leave me alone, then fine.” You mutter coolly, ignoring his quiet chuckle.

“Wait, wait – you have a best friend and it’s not one of us? I’m cut, Benny. Cut real deep.” Santiago Garcia was curious, to say the least. For years, he had known the youngest Miller and he had never mentioned anyone beyond their little circle or their families. “She cute?”

Benny huffs a chuckle, leaning across the pool table and lining up the final ball. “Hell yeah, she’s cute.”

“Where you been hiding her?”

“She moved away – only came back late last year.”

Santi hums, “Ironhead – she cute?”

Will half smiles, dragging his attention away from the pool table to shrug. “She’s alright.”

His bait works. Benny snaps it up – hook, line and sinker. He stands abruptly from his shot, cue just skimming the white ball, and points an angry finger in his brother’s direction, “I won’t take that shit. She’s a damn angel and you know it.”

Will chuckles to himself before returning his attention to Santi. “Yeah, she’s cute. Show ‘em.”

Benny briefly steps away from the pool table, opens his phone and brings up your Instagram profile, throwing it to Pope and letting him scroll through your feed.

“How come you’ve met her and we haven’t?” Pope aims his question at the older Miller brother, currently bent over the table and pocketing the black ball.

He half shrugs, straightening. “He set us up. It didn’t work out.”

Santi’s face puckers into a teasing glower, and he pouts at the younger Miller. “So, what? You set everyone else up and just leave me to die alone? What’s that about, Benjamin?”

Benny holds his arms out in obvious exaggeration, gesturing deliberately to himself. “You’ve got me.”

Frankie quietly sips his beer and watches in fond amusement, content to stay in the background and away from the bickering. Like Santi, his interest had been piqued but he was somewhat nervous about the situation. He already had feelings of apprehension returning to the dating scene after the shit show of a year he’d had, and those feelings tripled when it came to potentially dating someone close to one of his longest friends. He hadn’t dated in years. He was rusty. What if he disappointed you and Benny ended up kicking his ass? It could get messy real quick.

“I don’t know, man.” He finally pipes up, crossing his arms comfortably across his torso and reclining in the bar stool after peaking over Santi’s shoulder and at the screen he was lazily scrolling through. Ha. Way out of his league. “This kinda shit never works.”

“You sayin’ she’s not good enough for you?”

Frankie shakes his head, rolling his eyes. “You know I’m not.”

“Sounds like you are.”

“Quite the opposite.”

“I’ll take his spot. Give me her number.” Santi holds a hold out, clicking his fingers impatiently when Benny merely rolls his eyes. Pope grins, settling back into his seat and elbowing Frankie softly. “I think you should go for it, man. She seems great, and you need to get back out there.”

“I can’t, I’ve got Mena –”

“And Mena’s got her tío. Go for it. You’re just looking for excuses – no seas cobarde.”

Frankie chews on his lip as he gives it a bit of thought, wondering what’s the worst possible case scenario that could come from it. A busted lip? His self-image in ruins? Scared off from dating for the rest of his life? All things he could live with.

“… alright.”

Immediately, Benny perks up from setting the pool table with a large grin. “Yeah?”

Fish sighs, long and drawn out as Pope playfully pokes his side. “Yeah. Give me her number, I’ll message her now.” Before he freaks and changes his mind.

Maybe he was just thinking too much. What’s the worst that could happen?

Tags: @anu-simps

#francisco morales x reader #frankie morales x reader #francisco morales x you #frankie morales x you #francisco morales x f!reader #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales #francisco morales #benny miller x reader #benny miller #triple frontier #pedro pascal x reader

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babygirl-diaz · 3 years ago

Text

You're Cute Enough to Fuck With Me Tonight (AU)

Going to a club when you’re in your late 30s is not the best way to spend your Saturday nights, but Steve and Natasha insisted, so Sam ended up giving in to the peer pressure. Natasha got them to bypass the queue outside because she apparently knew the owner. The nightclub turned out different from what Sam was expecting. It was an elite club with its own fancy VIP lounge. Natasha got them a VIP booth and the three of them did whiskey shots to celebrate the successful first season of their tv show.

They were talking and laughing and well into their third beer when Natasha said, “Sam, don’t look now, but cokehead over there is eating you up with his eyes.”

“Huh?” Sam asked, and turned around to see who she was talking about when he found a white dude with short dark hair and a face full of facial hair, looking at Sam like he was starving and Sam was a buffet. There was a line of cocaine in front of the guy and he leaned down to snort it before coming up to wave at Sam. Sam ignored him.

“I tell him not to look and what does he do… he looks,” Natasha said sarcastically. “The guy’s hot, though. I think you should go for it.” She leaned back against Steve, who absently stroked her arm.

“The guy looks like trouble to me,” Steve pointed out. “I think you should stay away.”

“Wow, thanks, Dad,” Sam huffed.

“I love this song!” Natasha announced when the strings of a familiar song played. Before Sam could say anything, he was being pulled onto the dance floor by his friends despite his protests. “Call Me By Your Name, really?” Sam asks

“What? It’s a nice song!” Steve said, almost offended.

“You’re so whipped!” Sam laughed and slapped him on the back.

He moved his hips and ass along with the music and let out a frustrated groan when Natasha and Steve started grinding up against each other and got lost in one another. Sam knew this would happen. He’d end up as the third wheel and that’s why he wasn’t keen on coming tonight.

Sam lets out a surprised sound when he felt hands on his waist. Whoever had their hands on him spun him around, and Sam immediately came face to face with a pair of bright blue eyes, rimmed red. It was that cokehead from earlier. Sam wanted to pull away but got hypnotized by the look the guy was giving him.

The guy leaned in close to Sam’s ear and sang completely out of tune. “Romantic talkin'? You don't even have to try. You're cute enough to fuck with me tonight.” His voice was rough and despite the bad singing, it ran a shiver down Sam’s spine.

“I’m Bucky,” the guy introduced himself and pulled Sam even closer to move their hips together. “And you’re hot.” His voice was slightly slurred.

“Well, lucky for me, my name is Sam and not Hot.” Sam wrapped his arms around the guy’s neck and pressed their chests together.

“Sam…” Bucky said as if testing out his name. “Beautiful name for a beautiful guy.”

“You’re just saying that to get into my pants,” Sam smirked.

“Is it working?” Bucky pouted

“Nah, you gotta try harder.”

“God, you’re so hot,” Bucky said into Sam’s ear and took his earlobe between his teeth and pulled on it, making Sam moan. “I want you so bad,” he continued to say and squeezed Sam’s ass. Maybe the alcohol made him do it, but Sam surged forward and kissed him. He darted out his tongue and licked Bucky’s upper lip before taking it between his own lips. He then tilted his head to the side and kissed the edge of Bucky’s lips. Bucky opened his mouth and Sam’s tongue slid inside and he let himself explore Bucky’s mouth. The kiss got intense and heated. Sam felt Bucky’s cock press against his and he moaned into Bucky’s mouth, and Bucky swallowed up the sound. The song ended and they pull apart but stay close. “Let’s get out of here,” Sam said over the next song.

“Okay,” said Bucky and took Sam’s hand, leading him out of the club. But when they got outside, a small group gathered around them and asked Sam for autographs and photos. Sam felt himself strain in his jeans and he hoped no one noticed it as he took photos and signed autographs. Once the crowd dispersed, Sam found Bucky giving him a curious look. “You some kinda big shot?” He asked.

“I’m an actor,” Sam replied. “Ever heard of the show Captain America and the Winter Soldier? I’m the Captain America part of it. My friend Steve is the Winter Soldier.”

“I don’t watch tv. Don’t get the time,” Bucky shrugged. “But I get to fuck someone famous. That’s one thing off my bucket list.”

“So that’s why you wanna fuck me?” Sam asked faking offense. “And hey, who said you get to fuck me?”

Bucky got closer to Sam and kissed him again. “Oh, you’re so gonna let me fuck you, doll.” The way Bucky says doll makes Sam shiver and bite his lips.

“You wanna come back to my place?” Sam asked.

“Nah, I can’t wait that long but I know just the place.”

Bucky took Sam’s hand and led him towards the parking garage. Sam raised an eyebrow when they got to Bucky’s vehicle. “You some kinda soccer mom?” He asked looking at the Jeep SUV.

“It’s nondescript. Works well for my line of work,” Bucky shrugged. “Besides, you’re gonna thank me in a bit.”

“Your line of work? Fuck, you’re not a stay-at-home dad, are you? I don’t do married men.”

Bucky threw his head back and laughed as he got into the SUV. Sam followed him. “I am not a stay-at-home dad or married,” Bucky replied.

Bucky was on him, kissing him, the second they got in.

Sam pulled away briefly to ask, “What do you do then?”

Bucky looked him right in the eyes. The red rim around his eyes was gone and his eyes turned dark as he replied. “I’m an assassin. I was at the club to kill one of my targets.”

Sam blinked at him before he burst out laughing. “Wow, I’m the actor, but you’re the one with the vivid imagination.”

A smirked twitched along Bucky’s lips. “What can I say? I have a boring ass job. So I’m just trying to make myself sound interesting.”

“So what do you actually do?” Sam asked. “No. Wait. Lemme guess.”

“Be my guest.”

Sam’s eyes trailed down Bucky’s body. “You’re an investment banker.”

Bucky’s eyebrow shot up at that. “So damn close… I’m a stockbroker. How did you--”

“I’m just that good.” Sam winked at him. But then a smile broke across his face and he shook his head. “I saw you with those Wall Street folks earlier. Wasn’t that hard to figure out what you did for a living.”

Bucky leaned in close and kissed Sam once again. “So smart,” he said in between the kisses. “Just the way I like ‘em. Get in the backseat.”

Sam didn’t need to be told twice. He made his way onto the backseat and took off his clothes. He tossed them onto the front seat and felt his cheeks heat when he noticed the way Bucky was looking at him. Bucky’s blue eyes dilated, and he licked his lips while once again staring at Sam like he was a buffet. Bucky pulled out a condom and single-use lube from his wallet and Sam raised an eyebrow at him. “You were waiting to get lucky tonight, weren’t you?”

“I just like being prepared,” Bucky replied as he got into the backseat as well. He took off his own clothes and threw them onto the driver’s seat and pulled Sam closer to ravish his lips.

Bucky was right. Sam was thankful for the fact that the vehicle was an SUV. They had enough space to fuck in the back.

When they finished, it left Sam breathless and sore, but in a good way. Bucky drove him home, and the two cuddled up naked on Sam’s bed.

“Didn’t think you’d be a cuddler…” Sam commented.

“Oh, I love to cuddle,” Bucky replied, and tightened his grip around Sam’s middle.

Sam made his head more comfortable on Bucky’s chest and kissed his pecs. “You’re gorgeous, you know that.”

“So I’ve been told,” Bucky chuckled.

Sam frowned at that. “How many guys do you pick up at the club?”

“Is that jealousy I hear in your voice?” Bucky teased and kissed the top of Sam’s head. “If it’s any consolation, you’re the best I’ve ever had.”

“You’re just saying that cause I let you fuck me,” Sam huffed.

Bucky got on top of Sam and pressed their lips together again. “Nope, I’m only saying that so that you’d let me fuck you again.” His hand moved down on the sheets and groped Sam’s ass, making him gasp.

“You asshole,” Sam said, with no heat behind his words. “Lube and condoms are in the side drawer.”

“How many guys do you bring around here?” Bucky asked, narrowing his eyes.

Sam smirked at that. “If it’s any consolation, you’re the best I’ve ever had.”

***

Sam woke up the next morning to a cold and lonely bed. Bucky had snuck out during the night without even saying goodbye. That made Sam hurt a little. Just a little. Huffing, Sam threw the sheets over himself and fell back asleep. He didn’t know how long he slept, but the ringing of his doorbell woke him up. Sam wanted to ignore it and go back to sleep, but the person on the other end of the door was relentless.

Groaning, Sam got out of the bed and put on a pair of boxers and a t-shirt before making his way to the door. He threw it open and found Natasha and Steve standing there, looking equally worried.

“Oh thank god,” Steve pushed past Natasha and hugged Sam tightly.

The guy was built like a tank, and Sam struggled in his embrace. “Let me go! You’re crushing me!” Sam complained and pulled away from his friend to catch a breath. “What is wrong with you, man?”

“You disappeared last night! And then this morning there was news that someone at the club died and you wouldn’t answer your phone… we were scared!”

“What?” Sam asked.

“Yeah, your leering cokehead friend, one of his friends OD’d at the club last night.”

“Shit,” Sam hissed.

I’m an assassin. I was at the club to kill one of my targets. Bucky’s words rang in his ears and for a moment, Sam entertained the thought that maybe Bucky wasn’t joking after all. But he shook his head and got rid of the thought as soon as it entered his mind. There was no way Bucky was responsible for some guy overdosing. Sam was being ridiculous.

“Where did you go last night?” Natasha asked, throwing an arm around his shoulders.

“The leering cokehead… I brought him home,” Sam replied.

“What?!” Steve screeched. “Why would you do that?”

Both Natasha and Sam gave him an exasperated look, and he threw his hands up.

“So how was he?” Natasha asked.

“The best I’ve ever had,” Sam replied.

#SamBucky #Sam Wilson #Bucky Barnes #Natasha Romanov #Steve Rogers #TFATWS #fanfiction #tw: drug use #aashnas drabble

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cobaincreates · 3 years ago

Text

the fuck is a touron? pt. 2

warnings: language, mention of drugs & alcohol, smut (wrap it you're smart), very brief oral (male receiving), 18+

count: 9k+

part one is here! i hope you enjoy this as much as i did writing it! also remember when i said this has been sitting for a couple months?? welp, it’s been longer than that...oops. but it's all yours now!!! :)

taglist is always open. have a lovely weekend! photo cred

— — —

3 weeks earlier

a loud blare jolted you awake.

“what the fuck?”

you scrambled to stop the noise, your heart nearly jumping out of your chest. your head knocked into something hard as you twisted and tried to assemble your brain.

a clatter of what sounded like several bottles came from your right. the sound still rang out into the room—which was where exactly?

as you got to your hands and knees and shuffled against what felt like carpet, you remembered vaguely that you’d gone out last night. the carpet and dark room didn’t tell you much else. but the trilling alarm was enough to set you into a search to find that out.

“shut that off!” a voice yelled from behind you.

your hand knocked into more bottles and you grappled for one, feeling the familiar shape of a glass beer bottle. someone groaned in front of you then a blinding light pierced across your eyes. you sucked in a breath, dropping the bottle and covering your eyes.

what, were you a vampire? you peeked past your fingers to a parted curtain letting in a sliver of sunlight. you saw a little more of where you’d been, the light trail full of bottles and some sprawled legs and arms.

the alarm cut off suddenly. soft snores and labored breaths filled the silence now, along with a pounding in your ears so intense, you would’ve thought you were still hearing the alarm. a slow, gradual ache formed in the center of your forehead.

you blinked as your eyes adjusted to the light. a sparkling stiletto caught your attention, but it wasn’t on a foot. you looked around the room and spotted its twin near the back of a couch. crawling over, you found liza laying on her back with her hair messily splayed around her.

she was yawning while her phone lit up her face in a soft glow. when your eyes met, she whispered, “hey.”

you faintly remembered her setting an alarm on her phone somewhere in between jell-o shots and body shots. or was it after the jäger bombs?

you let out an oomf as you collapsed beside her on your stomach. your head didn’t let up the pounding. you made a noise, your words muffled against the stale-smelling carpet.

“what?” liza said, not having heard any coherent words.

you turned your head, the carpet scratching your cheek. “i said, nurse me back to health, please.”

“i told you not to do those lines,” she said, shaking her head.

“what?” you said a little too loudly, earning a few shh!s in return.

“i’m kidding,” liza laughed.

you grimaced, mostly at her but also at the hair in your mouth. you reached up to remove it and sat up while liza looked at her phone.

“what time is it?” you asked, glancing over your shoulder around the room.

no one else had moved from liza’s wake-up alarm. your vision was clearer now and you took in the trashed room. bottles lay everywhere, a few staining the carpet in dark puddles. a lamp was on the floor, its shade across the room over someone’s head. it was warm considering the blackout curtains keeping the morning sun out and you couldn’t imagine sleeping in here any longer.

your head pounded again as liza said, “noon.”

“can we go? i might throw up from how hot it is in here.” you pulled at your dress, wanting nothing more than to get under some cold water.

liza sat up and looked around, dropping her phone into her lap. “i need my other shoe.”

“it’s over here,” you said and crawled to retrieve it for her.

she put it on, her dress riding up her thighs before she stood and pulled it back down. you took her offered hand so she could help you up. your heels sank into the carpet and you looked down, finding a soggy spot where beer had seeped in. you frowned and grabbed ahold of liza’s arm to find your way out.

your small crossbody clutch was resting on the couch cushion and you reached for it over a girl’s sleeping form, careful not to wake her. she made a small noise and you snatched it quickly, feeling the weight of your phone inside.

liza ordered an uber to bring you back to campus. it was fifteen minutes away and you panicked for a brief moment from not knowing where the hell you were. last night was a whole blur apart from arriving and getting into the swing of things. you remember dancing and drinking and having fun with liza and a few other friends. it wasn’t usual for you to sleep at random people’s houses after parties, but last night must have been a little more eventful than others.

you let out a long breath you didn’t know you were holding as you sank into the back of the uber driver’s car. luckily, you didn’t get someone hopped up on coffee or blasting music. it was quiet and calm, enough so that you closed your eyes.

speaking of coffee, you could really use one. and food. and a shower. had you really slept on that nasty carpet last night? you shuddered and opened your eyes.

fishing out your phone from your clutch, you saw a few notifications from last night and the past few hours. you ignored them for now and unlocked your phone with the goal of texting one of your friends who worked at the diner in town and begging him to have your usual ready when you got there. it was all you could think about as your stomach rumbled.

but when you unlocked your phone, your eyebrows drew together. your screen opened to an internet tab, a little plane logo at the top corner.

“why the fuck did i buy a ticket to the outer banks?” you blurted to no one in particular. well, maybe to your friend beside you, who lived in the outer banks.

liza lolled her head toward you on the back of the seat, not at all looking as concerned as you felt. “you’re visiting, remember? i talked you into buying it last night.”

“why?” your head seemed to throb even worse.

you couldn’t go to the outer banks. you didn’t have the money for it and the ticket on your internet browser said you’d even bought a round trip one. god, why had you done that? you were saving up for the summer. you were saving up to see so much more than the outer banks. as much as you loved liza, and you knew she’d love to have you there, you would be wasting a weekend. how were you going to tell your boss that you needed off at such short notice?

liza shrugged beside you. “because my dad will be gone for a whole weekend and i’m throwing the biggest party ever and you love me and you promised to dance to ‘back that ass up’ with me there.”

“oh my god,” you groaned and dropped your phone into your lap. you rubbed your pulsing temples. “i can’t go, liza. i really need the money.”

“hence why you have a job—said job will pay that back in a week. you’re fine,” she waved her hand and turned back to the window.

“i need to work that weekend,” you argued. just thinking about asking for it off had your skin crawling.

“you can take time off. you never do.” liza shrugged, looking at you again. her face softened when she noticed how distraught you were over it. “look, if you really don’t want to, then just cancel it. it’s okay if you don’t come.”

your fingers came away from your head as you saw that she was being genuine. she may have joked around with you a lot, but she meant it when she said that.

friday

getting time off wasn’t easy. your boss acted like the ultimate villain in a boss level from a video game, having you go through all of these obstacles just to get three days off. you understood it, you were short-staffed anyways and it was hard, but you couldn’t help feeling as though they were a little harsh on you. it was always a fight to get time off, even when you showed up every day, on time, and did your work without complaint.

right after you talked to your boss, feeling the ultimate amount of shame over requesting three days, you searched high and low for someone to cover your shift. turns out, it wasn’t all that difficult to begin with since one of your co-workers—who just had a baby and was still a full-time student—told you they’d appreciate the extra hours. you felt instantly better afterward until your boss asked you to fill out three separate sheets for the time off. no, you couldn’t just write the three days on one sheet. it had to be three. separate. sheets.

it was completely ridiculous and uncalled for. you fumed for a while, pressing way too hard on your pen as you filled them out. once you set them on their desk, all filled out properly, you reminded yourself you could quit soon. just a few more months of the semester and you’d be gone.

the next day when you came in, your boss had allegedly lost those request papers. and funnily enough, they allowed you to put the weekend dates on one paper this time. you’d stared at them for a whole three minutes, paper in your hand and tongue between your teeth with angry words just dying to get out. you can quit soon. you can quit soon.

the weeks dragged by before the day finally arrived and you left for your flight. it was only when you got off the plane that the hours started to fly by. it was colder this time around, which you didn’t mind, even on the breezy ferry ride. you were looking forward to campfires and cozy sweaters.

you hopped off the ferry around noon and right into liza’s waiting arms at the dock. she was overjoyed about you visiting and you knew all the trouble with work was worth it just to get away for a little. you were young, there was no shame in a little time off, and liza was right—you’d already earned the money back for the ticket.

liza’s dad was bustling around their house when you arrived, packing like a crazy person on a time crunch. he threw a hello at you as he shuffled past with an armful of socks and possibly underwear, which had you lifting an eyebrow at liza. she shoved your arm and took your bag into the guest bedroom.

“where’s your dad running off to? can i go?” you teased, dropping your backpack onto the light green comforter. the white walls seemed brighter this time, but you accounted it for the new sheer curtains over the windows facing the back of the house.

“he’s going on a business trip. and no, you can’t. his girlfriend is going with him.” liza left your bag near the dresser and hopped on the bed, the comforter sighing under her weight.

“girlfriend? aw, man.” you frowned dramatically and lay on your stomach beside her. “do we like this girlfriend?”

“she’s very...” her left eye squinted as she thought. “eccentric. like, i don’t know how to take it. he seems happy though.”

“like, weird eccentric or crazy eccentric?”

“i don’t know. i haven’t breached the abortion topic with her yet. that could be very telling, don’t you think?” a playful smile hinted at her lips.

“totally telling,” you agreed.

minutes later, you were waving liza’s dad off as he pulled out of the driveway, liza standing a few steps in front of you. once he was gone and out of sight down the drive, liza turned back to you with a flourish and a cheshire grin spread on her face. you laughed as she pushed you into the house and began jumping excitedly. music started playing somewhere in between the jumping, which promptly turned to dancing in the kitchen. having a whole house to yourselves was always a thrilling thing.

it wasn’t long after that that liza told you to get ready for a party at the boneyard, as she called it. you had no idea whether to take that literally or just go along with it and be surprised. you went with the latter as you changed out of your airport clothes.

as you were heading that way, you thought about that one fling you had the last time you were here. what was his name? something rich, with a t. tom? trenton? no, no, something obscure. topper. god, you nearly forgot about him, but now that you were visiting again, you wondered if he was around. in the middle of the semester seemed like your luck would be out.

liza was slowing the car as you thought to text topper, just to see if he was here. you hadn’t talked since that summer—what was it? seven months ago? you hadn’t felt the need to keep in touch. didn’t he say to shoot him a text when you were in town again? you supposed there was no harm in doing so. what could be the worst thing to happen? maybe he wouldn’t be in town, but you wouldn’t be all that bummed about not having a hookup. you weren’t as ravenous as you were in the summer.

“are you getting out?”

your head turned and you found liza standing with the door open, her keys dangling from her hand. you hadn’t noticed that the car had parked or that you’d arrived at wherever the boneyard was. the beach was right in front of you, just over a small crest in the sand. you could smell it slipping into the car from where liza held the door propped open.

you opened your own door and hopped out, the gravel crunching under your shoes. you were glad you opted for a sweater with the early spring wind from the water as it blew over your shoulders and tangled into your hair.

a handful of people were already on the beach, stripped driftwood scattered around. most used them as seats while there was a fire already going and drinks in their hands. you couldn’t help but smile at the sight, a giddiness filling your chest. this was exactly what you needed and the perfect setting for it.

liza pulled you into a group with some familiar faces that you had met the last time around. small talk was immediately flowing and you couldn’t care less for it, but you welcomed it anyways. liza was quick to guide you to the next group and the next before you finally got comfortable with a drink in hand. you sipped it steadily and ditched your shoes with liza’s, sticking them under a piece of driftwood behind where you stood. one of liza’s friends was asking you about your degree, something along the lines of why you had chosen it. you couldn’t comprehend it fully as your eyes drifted around the sand where people stood in small groups and larger ones.

standing near an overturned lifeguard post that was sure to be rotting away was none other than topper. he was facing away from you, but you had no doubt in your mind that it was him. his hair was blonder than it was when you met, funnily enough in the colder months. he wore a sweatshirt (blue or dark green, you couldn’t tell) paired with shorts and (surprisingly) sneakers.

you turned back to liza’s friend, giving them a somewhat vague but good answer. you then excused yourself and split from the group to head in topper’s direction. you stopped just outside of his larger group and crossed your arms, holding on to your beer by the neck loosely. it took a minute or two for topper to notice you, obviously feeling a presence behind him and doing a double-take. you already had a smirk on your face.

“holy shit, hi.” he blinked rapidly, turning away from his friends.

“hi,” you laughed. both of you went in for a hug at the same time. topper pressed your waist firmly to his while you hugged him around his shoulders.

“it’s good to see you,” you said.

“yeah, you too.” there was surprise in his voice and features as if he never thought he would see you again. your hand slipped down his arm as you pulled away before you took a step back, your hands resting at your sides.

“how have—“

“hey! the touron’s back!” a voice over his shoulder shouted.

you looked in its direction, finding a menacing smirk on an all too familiar face. you couldn’t remember his name as he sipped arrogantly on a beer, perched on the rotting lifeguard’s post.

you found your own sweet smile and raised your free hand to flip him off, which only egged him on more as his laughter filtered out. you were instantly annoyed, although you didn’t show it as he had brought unwanted attention to you and topper. you were sure most of the people in this larger group had been on topper’s deck that day in the summer.

topper looked at a loss for words when you turned back to him, his eyes still on you. you were glad he wasn’t laughing at his friend’s comment.

“can i get you another drink?” he gestured to the bottle between your fingers and you glanced down, seeing that it was a sip away from empty.

you gave him a nod as you said, “sure.”

the sun was setting by the time you got a refill, the glass cold against your palm, and wandered off with topper toward the water. conversation flowed as you caught up, shrugging as you told him all you had been doing was working and studying. you were lucky if you got to go out and have fun once in a while. topper expressed the same, talking animatedly about college and visiting home for the weekend to see his friends.

you wondered what he was like at college, if he spent most of his quieter hours in the library reading articles or if he was the type of friend to take up guard in the kitchen at parties. it was easy to imagine him in those situations since you hardly knew him. his smirking friend certainly didn’t seem the type.

you flicked some wet sand into the water, imagining the waves bringing it back to settle at your feet. topper stood beside you, the wind tousling his locks. you had just mentioned how your mother had bought a new coffee machine and how your dad canceled it because there was no point in having two. your mother just figured it would be easier having two so no one had to wait on the single-cup brewing system. it made you laugh and roll your eyes when you heard about it over the phone. topper had been smiling the whole time as he listened, his head inclined like you were whispering.

a rush of heat had slithered down between your thighs when you caught his eyes a couple times. he was just watching you as you spoke and you couldn’t help but smile flirtatiously, wondering if he was thinking what you were thinking.

how you were imagining last summer and the feel of his hands on your skin. you wished you’d gotten to know more of him; if he had any scars or little beauty marks that you didn’t notice the first time. it was easy to imagine it, but you had the burning curiosity to see for yourself.

you needed to take a break, to get a gulp of air before you drowned in the thought and jumped his bones right here and now.

“i should go find liza,” you said abruptly even though no one had been speaking. “i’ll see you around?”

topper nodded without a word and you caught a glimpse of confusion on his face, but you walked away. you let out a deep breath as you felt the wet sand turn dry under your feet. the sky was an inky pink behind you, windshields on cars reflecting it back.

you wrapped an arm around liza when you found her and she smiled knowingly. you didn’t have to ask if she’d seen you with topper, it was quite obvious in such an open area.

topper took up his place with the group you took him away from, but this time he was facing your way. you closed your lips around your bottle, staring back at him as he did the same thing. a shiver went up your legs, goosebumps exposing to the crisp air around you. you had to look away before you walked over there and kissed the hell out of him. your heart was behaving rather poorly now.

but could you help it? every time he looked at you as the sky grew darker and the bonfire grew larger, every obscene image possible took shelter behind your eyes. your mouth dried out so many times that you eventually had to get another drink and another. topper wasn’t making it easy and you started digging holes with your feet just to stay put.

you wouldn’t go to him, you made that very clear to yourself. if topper wanted you, then he’d have to make the first move. stubborn as it was maybe, but you’d torture him if you had to like he was torturing you now with all of these looks under his lashes. christ.

“my god,” liza said into your ear as she stood on the driftwood behind you, arms around your neck. “you’d think topper was a starving man.”

“shut up,” you laughed and looked at a fallen log in the fire pit.

“i’m serious. you guys have been undressing each other for an hour and a half now. just go over there and make out with him.”

you smiled into your drink, keeping your eyes far away from topper, or else you might actually do just that.

“there’s hardly any pda going on as it is, we need entertainment,” liza sighed.

“there’s your entertainment,” you nodded your head toward a rowdy group of young high schoolers shouting at each other. three of them looked angry as all hell and there was a bit of shoving before one of the older college boys broke it apart.

“that was short-lived,” liza frowned as she hopped down from the driftwood.

“you want another drink?” you asked her as she finished off her last one.

“yes, please!” she beamed as you took her bottle and tossed them into a nearby trash bin. you headed for the stocked cooler and grabbed two beers. as you stood, topper was making his way over.

“you have any plans after this?” he asked without much preamble.

you smiled, pulling the tops off and taking a sip from your own, eyeing him as you did. that flicker of heat made its way back between your thighs, warming you all over. you couldn’t deny the suggestion in his question excited you and you were giving yourself a mental pat on the back for being patient.

“nope, i’m all yours.”

topper smiled slowly, his eyes flicking to your lips as you licked them. okay, maybe jumping his bones here and now wasn’t a terrible idea. but you needed to string this out, you wanted it to last—whatever it was.

“i don’t want to leave yet though. i’ll come find you?” it implied that you’d make him wait longer than you really would, but it was satisfying to see him practically drool at the thought of what was to come.

liza was giddy when you went back over, either for the beer or when you told her that you’d be going off with topper for a little. she smirked, knowing exactly what for, but she didn’t mind. she wasn’t leaving anytime soon, and not without you.

you didn’t make topper wait long. when you were ready, another beer in and a relieved bladder, you touched topper’s elbow as he talked with his friends closer to the cooler. the ice was partly melted, but there were still plenty of drinks left. the fire was feeding off sweltering heat, and with the cold wind, it was perfect.

“hey, you ready?” you asked when topper turned to you.

you weren’t sure exactly what topper had in mind when he had asked you if you were busy for the rest of the night, but not having a clue thrilled you a little.

“yeah,” he nodded and took the last sip from his beer. his slid his hand up, capturing yours before tugging you along toward the parked cars. hardly anyone was over there. you could faintly hear voices and sounds from inside a few cars, some windows cracked. your fingertips warmed as your heart beat, pushing blood to every corner.

topper’s jeep came in sight and you tried to remember the inside. was there enough room for both of you in the back seat? or maybe you’d share one of the front ones. it didn’t matter to you, as long as he put his lips to use.

your back met the side of the jeep as topper leaned his hands on the window, caging you in. you were quick to close the space between you, either the beer taking the reins or your lack of patience from the past few hours of being here and having a staring contest with him. your breaths mingled and your hands grabbed fistfuls of his sweatshirt to pull him closer. the familiar tingles spread between your thighs and you wasted no time in showing him how impatient you were.

“i don’t think either of us is fit enough to drive, topper,” you breathed when you had the chance.

there was no way you could drive with everything you drank. topper tasted like the beer too, but you weren’t sure if he was fit enough to drive either. you didn’t want to chance it, nor could you wait that long.

“what do you want to do?” he asked against the skin of your neck, his nose skimming up the side. he pressed a few kisses, getting closer to your jaw.

you tilted your head back against the door and sighed, closing your eyes momentarily then opening them to find a few stars winking at you. there were so many once you focused on them. topper interrupted your gaze, pulling you by the back of your head to his lips. he kissed you as if you were his last meal, his tongue licking into your mouth. you moaned, reaching up to tangle your fingers in his hair. you remembered him being this much of a good kisser.

“let’s find a spot on the beach,” you suggested, only getting a kiss on the corner of his mouth before he pulled away.

his eyes were blown wide, his hair ruffled. if you looked hard enough, his cheeks were sure to be flushed, both from alcohol and excitement.

“seriously?” he asked, his hand stilling on the back of your head.

you laughed and nodded, brushing a lock of his hair. “yeah, why not?”

a cold wind blew, tossing your hair into your eyes. topper caught it and pushed it back to its spot behind your ear.

“i think you’re the girl of my dreams,” he joked.

you grinned and slid your hands down his chest. “do you have a towel?”

topper had to pick his jaw up off the gravel before he finally moved away from you and opened his jeep. he ruffled around in the back then finally pulled out a blanket.

“very resourceful,” you commented as he closed the door.

“never know when you might need it,” he said as he threw it around you, shielding your bare legs from the wind. he turned again to the jeep and bent over the driver’s seat to get something. you saw it was a condom when he turned back and closed the door.

“also resourceful.”

he laughed then took your hand back in his. you headed back toward the beach but in the opposite direction of where the bonfire was. it was quieter the further you got, nothing but the waves coming into the shore. it was darker too; all the more private.

topper took the blanket from you and settled it down. you took a seat as he fixed a corner, swiping sand that had gotten on to it. once he sat beside you, he pulled you back against his lips.

you knelt up and scooted closer, placing your hands on his shoulders for leverage as you swung a leg over his waist. you sat in his lap and hummed as you felt him against your thigh. he squeezed you closer in response.

“i’ve never fucked someone on a beach before,” you admitted as you slipped your hands under his sweatshirt and the t-shirt beneath, pushing them up.

“i’ve never fucked anyone outside before.”

“what?” you pulled away to look down at him, your hands freezing on his chest. he was breathing deeply and you swore you felt the patter of his heart against your fingertips. “really?”

“yeah,” he shrugged and glanced over your shoulder toward the water. “just never had the chance to try.”

“what do you mean? you live on an island.” you let his clothes fall back down, stopping above his belly button. “i’ve been here twice and i’ve seen at least twenty ideal places that would be perfect for it.”

“i don’t know, i never asked anyone and no one asked me.” he shrugged again and you knew you were looking way too into this, but it seemed impossible that he hadn’t done this at least once before. you knew that if you lived here, you would’ve done it countless times.

your hands slid back up. “well, tonight’s your lucky night.”

you pulled topper back to your lips, tongues meeting. his hands rubbed along your back and you couldn’t help but arch into him as he slipped them beneath your sweater. his hands were so warm that it felt as if he set fire to your skin. you moaned and sunk your teeth into his lip briefly. a shiver wrecked your body just as topper’s hands came around to your front, sliding up to your breasts. you felt your nipples peek at the contact and topper made it even worse when his thumbs brushed over them.

“christ, it’s cold,” you mumbled as another shiver came and went.

“mhmm,” he hummed. “i’m sure that’s what it is.”

you laughed and wanted to swat at him. instead, you swallowed that little bit of nerves edging close to the surface and reached a hand to his lap. you watched as topper’s lips parted as your hand squeezed him over his shorts. the fabric was soft as topper grew harder. you relished in his expression, the way his eyebrows were drawn together, and how his jaw flinched when he closed his mouth.

topper’s hands fell away as you stood. he looked ready to pull you back down until he realized what you were doing and watched closely as you pulled your shorts and underwear down together. you kicked them aside and shivered as another wind blew.

sitting over topper again, you knelt up onto your knees to pull his shorts down. you couldn’t help swallowing at the sight of him. as dark as it was, you could still see him pretty well. your hand wrapped around him, solid and warm in your palm. topper groaned and leaned back on his hands.

“where’s the condom?” you asked as you stroked him, not at all in a rush with your hand around him.

topper registered your question and patted around the blanket for a moment before holding a square packet between his fingers. you took it from him and bit down on an edge, ripping it open with your free hand. you took the rubber between your fingers and spat the packaging somewhere. topper’s breathing became swallow all the while you stroked him. you stopped and rolled the condom onto him then leaned forward for a kiss.

topper reciprocated, his hands grabbing ahold of your hips until he pulled away to look up at you.

“what if you get sand in your vagina?” he asked, an innocent tone wrapping around his voice.

you couldn’t help the smile or the way your eyebrows furrowed all the while wanting to laugh. that’s what he’s thinking about?

“nothing that hasn’t happened before. it usually takes a couple of days to get rid of but i’ll be fine.”

the topic didn’t stop there. “does it hurt?”

“no, i’ll be fine,” a small laugh slipped out. “that’s why we have a blanket. and i’m on top. can we stop talking about sand getting in my vagina now? it’s kind of killing the mood.”

“sorry,” he shook his head, an embarrassed expression taking form.

you snorted, laughter bubbling up your throat. how did that question even come about in his head? you supposed it was nice of him to care about such a thing. you hoped your laughter didn’t make him feel more embarrassed.

his expression morphed into an amused one and he joined in, laughing at his odd question. you both shook with laughter for a few moments until you calmed down. topper squeezed his fingers on your hips, dragging his palms down your thighs. you brought your lips back to his and your hands to his chest. pushing him gently, you went with him as he lay down. you stayed against him for a couple more seconds before sitting up over him and finding him in your hand again.

topper groaned and gripped your thighs as you brought him into your heat. you couldn’t find your breath as you took him all the way in and sat over him, feeling completely and utterly filled. he was in your stomach, under your skin, everywhere.

“fuck, yes,” you panted, branding your palms on his stomach, pushing his sweatshirt and shirt up again. he was flushed from head to toe, something you were slowly building up to be.

you started off rocking back and forth slowly, feeling him pull and glide inside of you. when you dragged your clit against his skin, which was getting hotter and hotter with the friction, you couldn’t help the way your body tightened around him.

“y/n. oh, fuck—you gotta bounce for me,” topper choked out underneath you, moving his hands to your waist to grip tightly.

you nodded without words, not really finding any with your tongue tied. your hands pushed against his stomach as you lifted yourself up, letting almost all of him leave you empty. then you slammed down, moaning as loud as you could. you didn’t care. not one bit. you were still aware of the bonfire happening yards away, but you didn’t care if someone from the party was walking this way and heard you. let them hear how good topper felt inside you.

a quicker pace was set, sweat building in the creases of your knees and under your hands planted against topper. you loved this. all you could think about was how good it felt, how you fucked topper hard and fast—and how you were getting to fuck him again. it was so much better than the first time, even though you loved having him behind you then. this was just as good.

topper was sitting up again, your sweater rubbing against his and your body feeling way too hot. his hands gripped your ass tightly, helping you rock your hips over him. you were close, closer every time your clit brushed against him at this angle.

it became too much very quickly. you held on to him by his hair at the back of his head, gripping so tightly your knuckles were probably white, and reached your other hand down to touch yourself. your moans were growing higher and more frequent and topper was full-blown panting in your face. when you reached your end, a strangled sound came out of you. you stilled over topper, pulling more of his hair as you came over him.

not long after when you were moving again over him, your mouth on his neck and arms around his shoulders, his grip tightened on your ass as he came. you hummed and gave a few pecks just before he let go and fell onto his back. you followed, moving off of him and laying on your side.

“how long are you here?” topper asked minutes later, his breathing leveling out.

“i leave sunday morning,” you said, blinking tired eyes open as a wind blew over you.

“can i see you again?”

you smiled, your eyes shifting to topper beside you. “don’t you mean can you fuck me again?”

his lips spread wide and if his eyes were open, you had a feeling he’d be rolling them. laughing, you pushed yourself onto your elbow and touched his cheek.

“liza is having a party tomorrow. you should come,” you said quietly, leaning down to brush your lips over his.

“okay.”

“that was easy.”

“it doesn’t take much to convince me,” his voice was tired, piquing your interest.

“am i that good?”

all you got in return was a low laugh.

“i’m taking that as a ‘hell yes’ so thank you very much.”

topper let out a noise just before he moved, pushing you onto your back. his lips landed over yours, gentle and thorough.

saturday

it was a blur of drinks and games and dancing at liza’s house. every room was filled and it was hot for a few hours until you stationed yourself out on the deck with topper. you could lie and say that you didn’t sit out there just to make out with him, but that’s exactly what you did. it was perfect—even more perfect when his shitty friends didn’t show up with him. if you hadn’t been so distracted by his mouth, you would’ve thanked him then and there.

hours later, you had met topper at the front door. you informed liza of your new plans and she was more than happy to get you out of her hair, especially when her eyes latched on to someone and she started to drool into her drink. you grinned fiendishly at her and quickly went on your way.

topper was unlocking his front door and your legs were still a little tingly from the drinks you had over the past few hours. your hand absentmindedly ran along his forearm, needing to feel him so you could stay grounded and alert.

“if you don’t open this door, i’m going to fall asleep right on this porch.”

topper laughed, his keys jingling in his hand. it was a few more seconds of him trying without a light until he eventually found the keyhole and the door swung open. there was a rug that the bottom of the door brushed over and topper walked ahead of you, leading you in by the arm you refused to let go of. he was warm and solid. if you let go, you might evaporate.

your eyes adjusted with the lack of light in the entryway as topper closed the door behind you, sliding the lock into place. your skin felt like it was humming, the hairs on your arm standing up as you stayed close to topper. his shoes scuffed as he kicked them off, his keys dropping onto a table near the door while his other hand wrapped around your wrist. he lured you in by heat alone and you leaned in. your lips landed on his shirt, but you moved them until you found warm skin past the neckline.

reaching down, you found the strap of your sandals and worked to get them undone. why you wore sandals was completely lost on you as you struggled. topper grabbed ahold of you so you wouldn’t fall while your lips pressed a few more kisses into his neck. his hands were searing against your shirt and your skin pricked with the need to have them everywhere.

you kicked off your shoes, feeling your bare foot brush other pairs as topper grabbed ahold of your neck. you didn’t know where he was leading you until his lips landed against your cheek. he adjusted to where he meant to land and opened your lips with his own, coaxing your tongue with his. you moaned as if you were melting, your hands moving along his back as your body relaxed into his. another noise slipped from you, your hands moving down to his hips. one of them you let venture further until you felt him straining against his jeans.

topper gasped, his breath fanning over your mouth and down your neck. you grinned as you squeezed him just so you could see how he’d react.

it was cut short by light flooding the room and burning behind your eyelids. you flinched, parting from topper and squinting.

you were doing so well with no interruptions.

“topper? oh—i’m sorry,” a voice came from your left and you held your eyes open long enough to see a woman standing there, her hand falling from the light switch.

you suddenly remembered where you were holding topper and you dropped your hand, a hot blush crawling up onto your cheeks. you shuffled away from topper faster than he did at composing himself. was it wishful thinking to hope this woman didn’t see where your hand was placed a second ago?

“mom,” topper breathed, hiding his lack of breath well. your own heart was beating so loudly in your ears you figured the woman could hear it too in the entryway.

you averted your eyes, embarrassment dousing you from head to toe at the fact that you’d been caught by topper’s mother.

“we’ll be in my room,” topper said. his hand engulfed yours and you couldn’t remember how to use your feet or legs. “night.”

you kept your head down as topper tugged you past his mother, her robe flowing with the movement. he guided you through the unlit house until you came to his room.

“christ,” he sighed and dropped your hand to close the door. “i’m sorry about that.”

“it’s inevitable when you live with parents,” you shrugged and laughed, looking over your shoulder as topper rubbed his hands down his face. when he dropped them, he shook his head with an amused smile.

you turned back to his room and glanced around, the light a little brighter from the open windows. the decorations were the same, but for the most part it didn’t look all that lived in. you moved to his bed and sat at the end of it, running your hands along the comforter and remembering the last time you were here.

your eyes found topper’s like a magnet. your skin pricked with that awareness of him. reaching, you pulled your shirt off and let it fall beside you. topper watched, his eyes following every movement you made, his gaze moving over you like liquid.

you held your hand out towards him, coaxing him over where you sat. he approached until he was in front of you and even then, you pulled him closer with your hands on his hips again. your eyes fluttered shut as he came between your legs and touched your face, bending down to plant kisses on your forehead, cheeks, and nose. your thighs tightened around him, your hand dropping back to its original spot before you were interrupted. topper kissed you on the mouth then, his tongue hot and invading.

you pushed your palm into him a few times and rubbed until his breath was heavy in your mouth. even though you were kissing him and delighting in the ways he could use his tongue, your mouth felt dry for him. a moment later, your fingers glided up to the button of his jeans, working determinedly to unfasten them.

when his shirt was off and his jeans were unbuttoned, you nudged him backward, slipping from the bed and onto your knees. you pressed your lips along his stomach, feeling it tighten under your mouth as his hands brushed your hair back.

“tell me if you want me to stop, okay?” you said quietly, looking up at him as your fingers fisted the waistband of his jeans, slipping into his boxers too.

topper heaved a breath and nodded. you pressed another kiss just beside his belly button as you tugged on his bottoms, pulling them past his hips and leaving them to rest just above his knees.

you didn’t waste any more time. you took him into your mouth within the first few seconds of him smacking his stomach. he moaned with your lips around him and held your face as you licked him thoroughly. you couldn’t stop once you started and it took everything in you not to give him that release as his hand tightened on your face and his hips began to move.

he didn’t protest or get upset when you pulled away, licking your lips and standing. he just kissed you deeply and you wondered if he liked the taste of himself in your mouth. you certainly did.

all of your blood was gathered at your center. your skin was bubbling to a boil and topper helped you cool down, shedding the rest of the clothes between you. your hands wandered all over him as you sat back on the bed, pulling him with you.

you separated for only a second to kiss just under his ear, panting, “i want you inside me. now. i have an IUD.”

topper’s hands paused, his fingertips brushing the underside of your breast. “no condom?” he asked, pulling away further to meet your eyes.

you nodded, biting your lip to keep from putting him inside you now. “as long as you’re okay with it?”

“are you sure?” his eyebrows furrowed and you couldn’t tell if he was worried about you or if he really didn’t want to.

you nodded again as you were having trouble finding words without your breath. “have you been tested lately?”

“before i came home. i’m clean,” he said, his hands moving again and squeezing your thighs.

you grinned as your stomach rolled. you pulled him back to you, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and smiling against his lips. “me too,” you managed to say and laughed as the excitement poured over.

topper’s skin suddenly felt too hot, but you couldn’t pull your hands away from him if you tried. more blood rushed in between your legs. topper kissed you a few times before pulling away and leaning forward, his hand moving to your lower back to hold you upright while his other landed on the comforter to hold himself up. you drew your legs up around him and tugged him closer, breathing heavily as you anticipated his next move.

he swallowed thickly and averted his eyes down, his hand leaving your skin to grab ahold of himself. you bit your lip as you watched, seeing him swollen and ready and practically dripping. your stomach rolled into a tight ball as his hips grew closer and you bit your lips shut as a noise of surprise left you, floating around the room, when topper dragged his head along your folds painstakingly slow.

as much as you wanted to close your eyes to completely let your senses take over, you lifted them to topper’s face. he closed his eyes as he poked his head at your entrance. when he started to slip inside slowly, his mouth opened and his hand went back to hold you. you held your breath as you felt him inch after inch, filling you and stretching you.

his head fell to your shoulder once he was completely inside, a muffled curse leaving his lips.

“oh my god,” you said at the same time as he said, “god, you feel amazing.”

his hips retracted slowly, just as slow as how he entered, and his lips guided back to yours.

“c-can you move back a little?” he asked. the angle was probably straining him unlike you.

you nodded and didn’t have to do all that much as his hand kept you close to him, keeping himself inside of you, as you moved further onto the bed. you laid on your back and moaned as topper started to move, pinning your hips below his.

“you need to be quiet,” he said.

“why?”

“because my mom is right down the hall.”

“so? she obviously knows what we’re doing.”

“still.”

“oh, topper,” you moaned a little louder, a smile curling the corners of your lips.

topper’s hand landed over your mouth. you laughed into his palm and opened up to bite on his finger.

“you should move that hand a little lower,” you suggested, rolling your hips into his.

topper laughed breathily and a moment later, moved his hand to your neck. his hips drew back then and he thrusted, harder than before.

“oh, fuck,” you panted, tightening your hold on him.

“you like that?” he asked, his fingers flexing on your throat.

“mhm,” you managed, your face screwing up. “just like that.”

you sucked in a gasp, your breath staying in your lungs as topper did it again. you couldn’t look at him, couldn’t do anything but feel everything he was doing to you from your throat to him between your thighs. your back arched, pushing your breasts into his chest. you cried out the next time he thrust, hitting you so deeply, your nipples peeked to hardened points. fuck.

“don’t stop,” you couldn’t stop gasping. “please, don’t stop. it feels so good.”

tears pricked your eyes as he did it again, picking up a rhythm and sticking to it. his hand let go of your throat and gathered your hands into his, pinning them above your head as he fucked into you. the harder he went, the more your nails dug into the backs of his hands. his fingers tightened over yours and you cried out with your hips smacking. he didn’t cover your mouth this time, suddenly not caring if his mom heard you. you didn’t care either, you wanted this to go on all night. hopefully it would.

tears spilled when he didn’t let up his grip or his pace. they fell more as he drove into you quicker. it hurt so good, you couldn’t breathe. you didn’t dare open your eyes to see if he was enjoying it too. you hoped he was, you hoped he was loving pinning your hands down, driving into you like an animal. you didn’t know topper had this in him.

his hand let go of one of yours but you left it where it was as his thumb flicked your clit. your breaths grew higher within seconds and you tightened around him, your free hand flying to his arm where your nails dug in deep. you couldn’t stop the cry bubbling in your chest even if you wanted to. it was going to come out whether you liked it or not and topper wasn’t doing anything to muffle it.

“fuck—i’m going to come,” he sighed, his voice strained. was he losing it too? “come for me, please, baby. come with me.”

“top—” your muscles spasmed and everything exploded. you cried out his name however many times as you came over him, feeling him do the same as he thrusted and emptied inside you. his spurts were heavy and warm as his face buried into your neck, his mouth slick one moment then his teeth latching on to you. you grabbed the back of his head and pulled at his hair as he bit you, not hard enough to break the skin, but it still hurt so good.

“oh my god,” you panted as topper lay limp on you. you could feel both of your orgasms dissipating as your juices mixed and dripped out of you.

having let go of your neck, topper licked over the pulsing spot and lifted his head up to look down at you.

“are you okay?” he asked, sweat collected along his hairline. his thumb brushed your drying tears away.

“that was—i—topper,” you shook your head, wishing you could find the words. “i feel very good right now.”

he laughed, shaking your body with his and making you moan as you felt him rub inside of you. “i’m glad,” he said, kissing the underside of your jaw. “i think we need water and snacks so i’m going to go get some.”

“mmm. that’s a good idea.” you couldn’t bring yourself to wipe his sweat away just to feel it on your fingertips. you were spent.

he smiled and pecked your numb lips before sliding out of you and getting up.

cleaned up and under the covers, topper laid out an array of snacks and water bottles. you sat propped up against his pillows while he lay on his side, his head propped against his hand.

“will you come back next summer?” he asked, popping a piece of fruit into his mouth.

you reached for the cereal bowl of chocolate and stopped the smile from stretching across your face. “maybe.”

“i was looking for an answer more along the lines of yes.”

“you’ll have to be more persuasive then,” you hummed and chewed.

“i can be persuasive.” he was grinning and you couldn’t help thinking that he never looked better. tired, hair messy, dressed in just boxers, completely sated.

“oh yeah?” you raised a brow at him.

“mhmm,” he nodded, putting the fruit down and moving onto his hands and knees to crawl towards you. he grabbed ahold of the comforter and pulled it back a little, revealing your chest to the cool air. his head lowered to press a single kiss to the swell of your breast. then he moved to the other. he pressed a final kiss to your shoulder.

“how’s that?”

you shrugged the shoulder he just kissed and kept the smile off your face. mostly.

topper grinned again and it reached his eyes. he looked over you, down your chest, then slid his hand under the blanket to your thigh. “am i getting closer?”

you gasped and grabbed onto the back of his neck as his fingers ran up the inside of your thigh. heat swirled between your legs. “definitely.”

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#topper thornton #outer banks #topper thornton x reader #topper thornton x fem!reader #topper thornton obx #topper thornton smut #topper thornton imagine

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loving-all-for-loki · 3 years ago

Note

Your writing is so wonderful! Could I maybe request something comforting? I’m currently recovering from a surgery to repair my foot with bone anchors and I’ll be bed ridden for 6 weeks. Maybe something with Loki being very supportive and caring for the reader 24/7, moving into her room etc. and the team are just surprised at how helpful he’s being to her. 🤗.

A/N: I’m sorry if I posted this at a weird time, but I have the next chapter to my series Voiceless Love coming out and I wanted to give this fic some time to be seen before that got posted. It’s also a little short, but I felt like this was perfect as a short and sweet fic, instead of a 2k+ story, haha. Also, I know it isn’t 100% exactly what you wanted, but I get stuck with one idea and run with it, oops. I hope you are getting better with your foot. That stinks so much and I’ve been there with my own ankle injuries. If you have any requests for some fics while you recover, send them my way! I always need some inspo and if I can give you some entertainment during your recovery, that would be great. Now, read this, get some sleep, and drink some water. I hope you heal nicely <3

Lucky

Loki x reader

Word count: 1533

Warnings: Pure fluff, just fluff, fluffiness, maybe a bit of sexualizing Loki (I couldn’t help myself)

Seeing your friends carrying big heavy boxes for you swells your heart. It’s also hilarious to see Thor actually struggling to carry something. Tony finds it amusing too given that he’s not doing any of the work but it’s sipping mimosas next to you. Thor grumbles about getting all the heavy boxes, but you also know Sam and Bucky purposely avoid the big ones.

If someone were to tell you ten years ago that you’d be saved from getting tortured by Hydra and become an Avenger, you’d tell them they’re delusional, but this is your life. Even after years of torture and pain, you considered yourself lucky. You could have been the new Soldat, ruined over and over again to be a war machine, but now you’re a trained assassin like Bucky and Nat with a broken leg.

You lean yourself against a wall in your room with your crutches beside you (along with Tony, of course, that lazy bum). Steve, Bucky, and Thor are carrying in boxes while Sam, Nat, and Peter help unpack some things. Today is the day you officially move into the tower with the rest of your teammates and due to your current disability, the other avengers offered to help you. Another reason why you consider yourself lucky.

Peter is by far the most adorable on the team. He’s fully unpacking for you, even arranging the frames on your shelves and the organizers on your desk. He at point made your bed when Steve brought in your blankets and sheets. Bucky has been super sweet, too, giving you funny looks every time he passes by and asking where the best spot for the box he is carrying to go.

But the one “avenger” you didn’t expect to be as helpful as he is, is Loki. The others told him to move out of the way, not wanting his condescending attitude to ruin the fun day, but Loki started to carry boxes in as well. The first time, the avengers were stunned by him, but then they were gracious because he used his magic to transport them, making the job go by quicker. Loki just stands at the bottom of the truck outside and wipes his hand over each cardboard box, sending it to your room.

You really are lucky.

Two days pass by and you decide to ignore your laziness and finally unpack the rest of your boxes. You attempt to push some photo boxes on the top of your shelves, but you find yourself stretching so hard to reach the top. Your foot injury really is stupid and you just want to be able to normal walk, or jump, or even go on your tip toes.

Then you hear a sly chuckle coming from behind you. You let out a frustrated sign knowing exactly who it is.

“Loki, if you’re going to stand there and laugh at me, could you least help me and laugh at me?”

“Of course, darling.” He jokes.

He comes up behind you and takes the box from your struggling fingertips and carefully paces it on top of the shelf.

“Is there anything else you helpless being needs help with?”

“I could use help with hanging my window curtains.”

You point to the box in the corner with your large sheer curtains folded in them. He chuckles and goes over the box, carefully picking them up and hanging them on the frame. You can’t help but notice his figure as he hangs them. He is a marvelous being and who are you to deny your eyes of such a sight?

The sight in front of you proved that you are lucky

Tony gathers the group for a game night and it results in everyone becoming drunk and children. At some point, it becomes a truth or drink game night and everyone has their poison. You have your legs laid over Loki’s lap, who was really hard to convince to join the game, and a bottle of Smirnoff Ice in your hand, only because Tony didn’t have anything else. Loki’s slowly running his fingers over your legs, but higher than your cast.

“Okay, Steve,” Natasha coos, “your turn. Have you ever done drugs?”

“I did marijuana in high school once.”

The whole team gasps and whistles at his answer.

“Captain ain’t so wholesome, now, is he?” Sam cackles.

“I remember that night,” Bucky laughs, “You were so high.”

Steve chuckles and nods his head before looking to see you cuddled up next to Loki and gets a wicked idea.

“Loki, you’ve been quiet. Your turn.”

“Please no, I’m beyond your little games.”

“Aw come on, brother! One question won’t hurt you,” Thor laughs.

“Who in this room would ever kiss?”

Tony whistles and takes a sip of his drink as everyone else laughs. You can feel the ice giant get slightly warm out of embarrassment. His face is flushed with a rose pink color as you get nervous, lightly chuckling to himself.

“I uh…”

“Answer it. Answer it. Answer it.” Sam chants.

Everyone chuckles at the clear uncomfortableness of the god, not seeing him like this often.

“Y/N.” He whispers, almost too quiet for you to even hear.

“Louder, brother. I couldn’t hear you,” Thor says innocently.

“Y/N.”

You smile up at Loki in shock. He won’t look down to meet your eyes but stares straight out the window past Tony. The entire team cheers and chuckles.

“Oh, we’re never letting that one down.”

“How lucky am I?” You laugh.

You attempt to cook yourself some lunch but your stupid cast is getting in the way of moving around. It’s getting tiring to pick up your crutches every time you need a tool two feet away from you. Letting out a frustrated sigh, you hit the edge of the counter with the spatula in your hand.

“What is wrong, dearest?”

You turn your head to see Loki standing behind you with a concerned look on his face, this time not here to make fun of you.

“I’m tired of my stupid foot getting in the way of doing normal activities.”

“Darling, sit down. I’ll make lunch for you.”

“Loki, you really-”

“I know I don’t have to, but I want to.”

Loki picks you up and sets you down on the couch while also handing you the remote. He goes to the kitchen and attempts to resume your lunch.

“Sweetest, what are you cooking?”

You laugh really hard at his confusion.

“Fajitas.”

“What are those?”

“See Loki, it’s fine! You really don’t have to.”

“And I’m not going to. I’ll make Stark do it.”

Loki orders JARVIS to get Tony and finish making lunch for you. You laugh and shake your head at Loki as he sits down beside you on the couch. He starts to run his fingers through your hair but keeps getting caught in the tangles.

“Why is your hair like this?”

“It’s hard to do anything while standing up. I can barely brush my teeth without falling over.”

“Well, it looks like I’ll do that for you, too.”

“Loki, I swear if you-”

“No point in arguing. I’m going to assist you.”

You rolls your eyes at the cocky god as he smiles at you. Nuzzling your head into his neck, Loki holds you tightly in an embrace. Tony comes in to see you two cuddling and shakes his head.

“You are so lucky we love you.”

You wake up the next day to see Loki sleeping beside you on your bed. You try to remember anything that happened last night, but you were so tired, nothing comes to mind. If you didn’t have a broken foot, you would be concerned about waking up next to a god, but you also know he wouldn’t have done anything with your injury. He’s too kind (much to some disbelief).

“Good morning, darling.”

Loki leans over to you and kisses you on the forehead. He wasn’t as asleep as you thought he was, but you’re not complaining. Waking up beside this adonis isn’t the worst way to spend a morning.

“Good morning.”

“I don’t care what you say,” Loki smiles, brushing a piece of your hair behind your ear, “you’re staying in bed and I’m waiting on you.”

“That’s very sweet. Thank you.”

“I’m glad someone learned something last night.”

“Actually, I don’t remember a lot from last night. I was tired.”

“We bickered about me waiting on you, hand and foot.”

“Hmm, that sounds about right.”

“So, today I’m treating you like a proper princess.”

“Does that mean we’re together?”

Loki looks at you confused, but his face lights up when he realizes what you’re implying.

“I suppose so. In that case, my princess, I will wait on you.”

You watched as the god all day served you lunch and dinner. He brushed your hair and teeth. Helped you change clothes. Played your music to cheer you up. Even carried you to the bathroom when you had to go.

Thinking about all the things your friends have done for you and all of the things that Loki, your prince, has done, all you can say is how lucky you are.

#loki fluff #loki fanfic #loki fan fiction #loki laufeyson #loki #loki x reader #loki x reader fluff #loki oneshot #marvel x reader #anonrequest #lovingallforloki

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that-one-weeb-but-starwars · 3 years ago

Text

My Love| Echo pt 3

Note: i'll edit this later, my mouth hurts from wisdom teeth removal but wanted to get it out for you.

Warnings: No real warnings, but there is a semi spicey scene and mentions of nudity towards the end, but doesnt go into too far of detail. And Echo's legs are cannoned a bit lower than tcw meaning yes Echos got an ass, but his legs and thighs stuff like that are still metal so

Reader: Male

Part: 1 | 2 | 3 | 3.5 | 4 | 5 | 6

Master list

Y/n watched the boys try there food. They're faces lighting up as the room became silent, people busy digging into there food.

Y/n ate his own, his hand on Echo's thigh under the table, Echo's leg touching Y/n's.

"Ma'm this is way way! Better than rations!" Wrecker cheered.

"Im glad you like it so much, so tell me boys. What brought you over here?" Margie asked.

Hunter swallowed his food, "well we wanted to meet Echo's boyfriend Ma'm, we had no idea they had been dating for so long."

It was lucky for the group that talked they stayed together, near the head of the table where Margie sat, a small kid or two down from her.

"Echo's been nothing but a delight. To both my son and my family." Margie praised, "he's a good kid, Im assuming he gets it from his older brothers?"

"Oh...uh." Hunter spoke.

"He's older than us." Crosshair responded for the group.

"Oh?" She smiled, "you learn something new every day."

She looked at Y/n who nodded and smiled, "Yep."

"So where are you boys staying?" She asked.

Oh shit. Was the only thing Echo could think of. His brothers? Staying here?

"Oh we have our own place." Tech responded, "We live in a building complex called the Marauder."

Well that was a lie.

"Wait. Isn't that the name-" Y/n was cut off when Hunter kicked him.

"Ow.."

"Sorry. Foot must've slipped." Hunter responded his head slightly jolting towards the side, Echo was lost in his food, eating small spoon fulls, he was listening inteny even though he tried to cover his easedropping up.

"Oh! Yeah!" Y/n chuckled, Echo's frame slightly picking up.

"Oh. Nice place then?" Margie spoke.

"Oh..uh yeah. Decent..just a bit cramped but we don't mine." Hunter told, "we do alot of delivering off world too, so we work a decent amount...Echo! Echo here works the hardest. He may not be the strongest but he sure knows how to uh-"

"Pack a crate! And log the ports data. He's also a skilled mechanic!" Wrecker joined in.

What were they doing? Fake Prasing him? Why?

She smiled, "You boys seem like you like your jobs."

The boy's nodded, Y/n watched as Tech, Hunter and Wrecker hyped up Echo. The boy's trying to support Echo, "and you? Crosshair was it?"

Crosshair stopped from putting a spoonful in his mouth, "Oh. I.-" he looked at Echo infront of him, "I have a long way to go, a lot to learn."

"The youngest then?" She questioned.

"Yeah..." Crosshair responded bringing the food to his mouth.

"That's a sweet little bussniess you all have then," she congratulated, "We'd have to work with you one day, we have a business of our own."

"What's the bussniess if I may ask?" Tech questioned.

"Well our main bussniess is a food bussniess, you know selling buying, producing, but recently we've started a non-profit organization for battle droids."

"For battle droids? Clankers?" Wrecker asked.

"Thats what them clone boys call them," She smiled, "we basically rehab them, and send them back into the world, most as servants, translators. Small things."

"That's uh well..."

"I know I know. But here we believe that everything stands a chance." She contuined, "Echo has helped us alot on efficent repairs."

Echo nodded as he put a spoonful in his mouth.

"We have one that takes care of the animals in the small barn." Margie told, "Y/n! Have you showed them the animals dear?"

"No ma. This is only the second room they been in." Y/n informed.

"How dare you not give them a tour!" His mother spoke fake harshly, Y/n chuckling his mom soon following after.

"Oh mommy dearest I ask your humble apologies even though I don't deserve it. I suppose I'll sleep outside in the barn."

The two laughed as they smiled at one another.

"I'll show them around afterwords. Prepaired for your world to be rocked." He told the boys infront of him.

"Well I welcome you to the family boys. Its always a pleasure to have another few join the bunch!" She cheered.

"Thank you." Hunter spoke.

She smiled for a final time return to her food as did the others, small talk. Kids started asking to be excused, when excused they took there dishes and walked into the kitchen to clean there dishes and put them on the drying racks.

Echo finished before Y/n asking to be excused he got up with his dishes and went to clean them. Wrecker asked next, he being excused as he grabbed his own things and left.

Echo was along cleaning his dishes, his plate flat in the sink as he scrubbed the plate with one hand.

"Wanna hand?"

Echo turned his head, "oh. No. Im good."

Echo turned back towards his plates.

"Echo. Im. Im sorry." Wrecker apologized, "he's better than any lady you could date."

"Oh. Uh." Echo spoke, "thanks..."

"I didn't mean to hurt your feelings." Wrecker told him.

Echo frowned, "I. I know Wrecker. I shouldn't of yelled at you."

"We've should of waited for you to explain."

Putting his dishes on the drying rack he turned to Wrecker who stood next to him, Wrecker's dishes sat on the counter patiently waiting for his turn.

"It's. Okay." Echo responded, "I, I forgive you, at the end of the day. I'm the only one dating him. Right?"

Wrecker smiled, "So. We're okay?"

Echo nodded, quickly being picked up in a hug as he chuckled, patting Wrecker's shoulder.

"Now do your dishes before Y/n's mom cuts your head off." Echo joked waving smally to him.

Echo walked back out, going down the hall and too the living room, the room filled with silence as he collected the cups from eariler.

Bent over setting all the cups down accordingly there was a whistle, a soft one, not loud enough for anyone to hear if they weren't in the room.

"Would you look at that ass." Y/n spoke, Echo standing straight as he turned around, "aren't you a gifted fellow?"

Echo chuckled, "You should be careful what you say in here."

It was Y/n's turn to chuckle.

"Why's that?"

"Why do you think?" Echo questioned as he watched Y/n walk forward, grabbing his hips and pulling Echo closer.

"All I do is tell the truth," Y/n smiled.

Echo's arms drapped on Y/n's shoulder's, Y/n holding his hips.

"Now this is something we shouldn't be doing in here." Y/n teased.

Echo smiled, "One kiss never hurt anyone?"

"Oh?"

Y/n smiled, leaning down kissing Echo. His hand running through Y/n's hair, Y/n pulled away from Echo, foreheads resting on one another.

"I love you." Y/n told him.

"I love you too." Echo smiled.

Y/n pulled him into a short kiss, "You wanna sit on my lap again baby?"

"Gladly-" Echo was cut off again with a kiss, a chuckle filling his mouth from Y/n.

"Get a damn room!"

Y/n pulled away, glaring at the teen.

"Well Enzo. I am in a room! So get out of it!" Y/n argued, Echo's head in Y/n's shoulder.

"Well mom wants you to give those guys a tour." Enzo responded.

"Alright." Y/n spoke, turning back to Echo, "Later baby."

Echo was give a kiss on the lips, Y/n grabbed the tray.

"I can do that," Echo spoke stopping Y/n.

"How about you can do this one day, when we have our own home." Y/n spoke, "you know when we're married and have a little farm."

Echo flushed deeply, a farm? With him and Y/n all by themselves? Sounded...sounded. amazing.

Y/n pulled away from him tray in hand, "come on let's give that tour."

Echo followed Y/n dropping off the tray and then taking the boys around, introducing them to all the kids, big, medium small to twilek, zabrack, human to torguata. All of diffrent personalities. Some reading on there bed, some working out, some listening to music, others playing with dolls and action figures.

And then there was his room, nothing special, Echo and his favorite record in sitting still as the song had finished, a box of records tucked under the small table the record player sat on. The sheets a dark purple his pillow cases a matching dark blue a window at the far end.

"Please come in." Y/n responded offering them to come in and look around.

They filed in, the room fitting all them comfortably.

"It's quiet simple," Tech explained, "Your personality is a bit more bubbly so I was expecting something wild."

"Like that?" Crosshair questioned.

"Like what?" Tech responded turning around to face the wall behind them.

The wall was filled with photos, drawings and dried flowers, a vintage theme, branching off into its sub groups.

"There it is." Tech repsonded adjusting his glasses.

"Please feel free to look around." Y/n responded.

Crosshair stood next to Wrecker as they looked at the photos.

"Hey! It's Echo! Look!" Wrecker cheered as Crosshair peered over, the photo of Echo asleep on the couch, kids knocked out with him, "and Kamino!"

"How's you get a picture of Kamino?" Hunter questioned now also looking at the photos.

"Echo here got it for me." Y/n smiled as Echo rubbed the back of his head, "Its not just my memories up there- Hey! Lets get our own photo up there!"

Y/n got up going over to his desk as he lifted the top up pulling the old porloroid out.

"Echo." Crosshair spoke as the clone came over, "wanna explain this one?"

Echo looked at the photo, he clearly knocked out in Y/n's bed, his back bare hinting towards what had happened before hand, the blanket covering to his mid back and down, his arms tucked under a pillow permentatly fluffing it up as his cheek was baired into it.

"Not bad." Crosshair spoke nudging his brother, he was trying.

"Here is is new film and all." Y/n smiled going towards the group, "Come on! Gather around."

Y/n smiled as the group akwardly grouped together infront of the window. Looking at the group he rushed over, pushing them closer together.

"It'll be on a timer so I only have a few seconds." Y/n told them walking back over, "ready?"

"Uh sure?"

Y/n quickly pushed the button rushing over to the group, he quickly stood next to Echo. There was a click as Y/n rushed back over. The photo coming out the bottom as Tech rushed over intrested.

"Oh nice its comin through already." Y/n smiled, soon waving the square around as he walked over to his desk picking out a red and black thumb tack.

"Hmm..." y/n spoke rushing over to the wall looking around, "hah! Echo come here! Help me put this up."

Echo walked over as the boys watched him hand Echo the image and tack.

"See right there." Y/n pointed a spot above the door, dead center towards the ceiling.

"We'll move this one." Y/n said pulling up an old photo besides the light switch "up there."

Handing Echo the old photo they swapped Y/n pinning the new one with the group with a smile.

"Ready?"

"Yeah-"

Echo was grabbed by the legs, Y/n picking him up as Y/n grabbed the back off his thighs.

"A bit higher." Echo spoke as Y/n pulled his arms back, tight on Echo's thighs he pushed the clone upward, his thighs now trapping Y/n's face as Y/n's hands vanished behind Echo's kama skirt.

"Got it?" Y/n asked his chin resting at Echo's belt.

"Yeah." Echo spoke, his face red as he cleared his throat.

"Ready?'

"No- Y/n-" He spoke as Y/n laughed walking towards his bed, "Y/n! Y/n! I'll kill you don't- Ah!-"

Y/n tossed the trooper on the bed he bouncing as he let out a grunt, Y/n only chuckled turning back towards the boys, "come on i'll show you that barn they were talking about."

Y/n lead the boys along to the backyard, showing them the small barn his father worked on fixing a small animals leg, waving a B-1 droid showed up in a happy matter the others ready to fight.

"Master Y/n!"

"Please Y/n is fine B." Y/n smiled, "Boys this is B. He helps with the animals."

With an akward introduction the batchers kept there distance, but with the end of the small barn came the end of the tour. It now late in the hours of the day as the boys made there way our. Excusing themselves for the night.

"You'll have to come back." Y/n smiled.

"If its okay with Echo and your mother. " Hunter spoke, "and you of course."

"We'd be delighted to have you again." Y/n smiled, "Please. Come anytime with Echo. Or by yourselves. We're open doors."

Hunter nodded, the batch saying there goodbyes and thanks once more. They started there way away from the home, Tech staying back, "I suppose not all regs are regular after all. And that's good."

With his last comment Tech rushed to join the others.

Echo stayed behind with Y/n who smiled as the boys vanished.

"Now. That we're. Alone." Y/n teased.

"Alone? Really in this house?" Echo teased back.

Y/n chuckled, "as alone as we can be."

Echo smiled as Y/n closed the door.

"I'll go make some more milk and honey, you. Go get ready to cuddle." Y/n ordered playfully.

"Thats something I can do."

Him and Y/n unfortunately went separate ways, Y/n cleaning the cups and pot setting them to dry as one of the old B-1 droids would put the mass of dishes away during the night.

He pulled out another pot, putting it on the stove filled with the sweet liquid he wipped the tray clean, putting a fresh set of cookies on a small plate and two cups. Just in time as the pot started to whistle, pulling it off the stove he turned the gas off and went to his room.

Holding the tray in one hand he opened his door, "hey hope you didn't miss me too..."

Y/n's frame filling the door way, but froze seeing Echo's bare back facing him, a blanket sat high waisted on him as Y/n quickly stepped in, quiet with his steps he locked the door behind him, Echo now standing up and facing Y/n the blanket still around his waist.

"I uh..." Echo responded with a flush, "thought...you might like this first..."

Y/n flushed as Echo dropped the blanket, setting the tray on the nearest surface big enough, the floor flush against the wall besides the door, he walked over, kicking his shoes off in the process.

"Baby you have no idea how much I like this." Y/n told him, Echo's gaze away.

Maker. Y/n took his thumb to Echo's chin, Y/n's soft skin lightly tapping up Echo's chin to look up at him. Holding Echo's chin in place with his thumb and index finger Y/n smiled smally, his eyes filled with love for the pale male infront of him.

"Y/n. I..." Echo trailed off.

"Shh..." Y/n hushed softly, his thumb running down Echo's lip and back to his chin, "You don't have to say anything..."

Echo raised on his toes, leaning up to kiss Y/n, Y/n leaned down, the first kiss was almost shy, there lips only pressing together in sweet presence of one another. The small kiss leaving Echo breathless. They pulled away shortly. Another one soon be initiated, Y/n nudging Echo to sit down softly, he following Echo's movements, Y/n sitting besides him, the kissing barely any more intense, Echo swinging a leg over Y/n's straddling the taller male.

Y/n held the small of Echo's back, the two's makeout session growing in heat as Y/n's hands running down Echo's back and to his ass, where he gladly let his hands rest of Echo's warm skin while they kissed.

It was soon for breathe they pulled away, Y/n attaching himself to Echo's neck. Echo's hand through Y/n's hair as he hummed against Echo's pale skin, earing a soft mewel.

"Y/n...take me...take me away..." Echo whispered, Y/n laying Echo down on his back, his lips never movinv from Echo's shoulder.

"Take me away...Y/n..." Echo meweled softly, the words spilling from Echo's vocal cords once again.

Y/n stopped momentarily to lean up into Echo's ear, "only if I can come along baby..."

The night was filled with passion, hair being pulled in pleasure, moans dripping off each others lips, ripped from there vocal cords in call for the other one. Pleads drawn from the bottom as Echo left a few new scratch marks on Y/n's back, along with a line of hickeys following Y/n's collar blade to sholder. Y/n did the same, leaving hickies along Echo's body, where skin met metal.

Echo laid flat on his stomach now, his head turned towards Y/n. Y/n held a stupid large smile on his face, his finger's interlaced with Echo's.

"That was somethin else babe." Y/n told him softly, "Parched after the time of your life?"

Echo chuckled as Y/n pulled himself up, and out of bed. Echo receiving a pleasent veiw of Y/n's behind with one side having present marks, they currently defined and fresh, marks both darker and lighter spotted Y/n's back, mostly towards his shoulder and nape of his neck.

Echo watched Y/n pick up the tray and make his way back to the bed setting it on the nightstand, climbing back in the covers as Echo nuzzle up to Y/n.

"Clingy now are we? Let me pour you a cup atleast." Y/n chuckled.

Pouring them both cups Echo was handed one cold cup, "Thanks."

"Mhmm," Y/n acknowledged the two cuddled up, "shame its cold. Must sat for too long, needy thing arent you?"

Echo flustered, but took a risk himself, "Could still be longer."

"Oh? And what are you gonna do that I haven't done to you?" Y/n teased, Echo took a heavy drink, hoping it would bring him energy later taking Y/n's he sat it on the nightstand next to his own side of the bed.

Echo pushed Y/n onto the bed flat, the covers still hiding Y/n's lower half.

"I haven't rode you." Echo told boldly.

Y/n smirked up at him, "You're right you haven't,"

Echo's leg's swinging over Y/n, "Think you can handle me?" Echo questioned.

Y/n chuckled, "Baby you have no idea what I'd endure for you." Y/n sat up, holding Echo's face with a hand.

"Lets see then." Echo responded Y/n biting his lip as he pushed the covers down with a foot.

Y/n was pulled into a kiss, his hands running up and down Echo's back as Echo pushed him to the bed, the kiss never breaking.

Read the Next Part here if you like smut or stay generally sfw here

#star wars #the bad batch #sw: tbb #star wars: the bad batch #echo tbb #tbb echo #echo x male reader #star wars echo #bad batch echo #the bad batch echo #echo the bad batch #x male reader #lil smutty my bad #oof #i liked how this turned out

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