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milazka · 3 years

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not the greatest feeling ever | 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝.

the less i know the better masterlist

main masterlist

summary: fuck it, i’m not doing a summary, i’m so bad at it. oh! there’s smut btw.

warnings: smut, cursing, mentions of blood, underrage drinking

last thought: i’m proud of this one, took me a lot of time to write, but i think it was worth it! enjoy your reading! love, milz.

─── ° • ❀ ───

The gentle breeze twirls her golden locks in all directions. She hums the lyrics of You never can tell, having watched Pulp Fiction for the hundredth time last night. Her irises are fixed to the slightly damp roadside covered with fresh fallen leaves from this morning rainstorm. The last rays of sunlight caress her baby-like skin as they disappear into the horizon, painting the sky in a mixture of orange and rose.

“C’mon grandpa, you’re slow as hell!” she teases Marcus, turning her head back to stick her tongue out at him. Standing on his skateboard, he sends her the finger, scraping the pavement with his over-used black vans to gain speed and eventually catch up with her.

“That’s how the turtle won the race, dumbass,” he gently nudges her shoulder with his hand as he rides his board besides her. She gives a sharp turn of the handlebars to move her tires out of the sand and back on the pavement, giving him a death glare.

“I almost fell in the ditch, shithead!” he simply laughs, his head falling backward. His dark colored hairs, normally slicked back, are ruffled by the warm September wind, giving him a laid back look that fits him perfectly. She adores hearing his laugh; it's one of the purest and most delightful sounds. It was only recently that she heard him laugh again, having not heard it for months after the day they lost the third musketeer of their trio. It was one of the hardest moments of their lives, but sharing this kind of experience brought them closer than ever. Charlie was there for him when he hit rock bottom, stroking his back while he cried on the shower floor, freezing water running down their damped bodies. She was also by his side the first time he went to therapy, soothingly squeezing his hand before he entered the office.

“If someone had to fall in a ditch, it would be me.”

“You know that Max and I made bet on how long it would take you to fall in a ditch?” she replies, checking his reaction at the corner of her cerulean eyes. He grins.

“How much did you bet?” he curiously asks, one eyebrow arched.

“Fifty bucks,” his eyes almost snap out of their sockets. He stops, stepping off his board.

“Fifty bucks?! That’s insulting, thought I was worth more than that,” he shouts as she makes a u-turn, retracing her steps, stopping in front of him.

“I’ll give you half of it if you wait ‘till June,” Charlie sarcastically says to him, elbows leaning on the handlebars of her bicycle. He caught a glimpse of light in her gaze; a twinkle of amusement he always finds in the corners of her softly crinkled eyes when she smiles truthfully.

“Deal,” he winks at her, drawing a small laugh from her slightly parted lips. He picks up Charlie's polaroid from the basket at the front of her bike, signaling for her to ride so he can immortalize the moment for her. Marcus knows she keeps those famous polaroids in an old converse box as a source of happiness; they're memories of moments she doesn't want to forget.

He takes the little camera to his eyes, snapping a picture when Charlie turns her head to the side to look at him, smiling like there is no tomorrow. As the picture is slowly developing, he hears a squeal of tires and a squeal of surprise from the distance.

“Fuck Charlie!” he shouts, running towards her as she sits, holding firmly her right forearm. His heart tightens at the sight of her painful face, her traits are torn by pain and he can see tears gathering at the corner of her squinted blue eyes. Marcus hates to see her in pain; he knows she's not the type to complain about anything so when he sees her azure eyes filling with water, he knows it's serious.

“You got a few scratches,” he whispers, running his eyes over her legs and arms. “We’ll go to your house and clean you up, okay?” she nods, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand. Marcus tucks his skateboard under his arm, grabbing the handlebars and seat of Charlie's bike simultaneously.

─── ° • ❀ ───

“Hold still,” his hazel eyes are focused on the mid-depth cut on her forearm. His bushy eyebrows furrowed, giving him a severe, almost cold sober look. She takes a big gulp of the rich whiskey she borrowed from her father's secret stash.

“Oh fucking hell!” she swears between her clenched teeth when the rubbing alcohol makes contact with the exposed flesh of her forearm. “That’s not the greatest feeling ever,” she whimpers, her forehead resting on his shoulder covered by his green olive shirt.

“I know, angel, I know,” he runs his hand through her blonde hair, gently stroking her scalp in a soothing way. She keeps her head resting against his shoulder, holding back the tears that threaten to run down her flushed cheeks.

“I’m usually the one taking care of you,” he knows it refers as much to all the times he fell off his skateboard as it does to when he hit rock bottom when their friend passed away. Charlie isn't used to being taken care of; she has always been able to look after herself without anyone's help.

Crying is for the weak.

She swallows her tears, putting her mask back on with a slight smile.

“Your new neighbor saw me fall,” she changes the subject, pausing to take another gulp directly from the whisky bottle. “Great way to make a first impression,” a light laugh escapes from her lips, but she halts when she notices his gaze turning away almost discreetly. “What’s wrong?”

Over the years, she has learned to read him like the palm of her hand; she knows he looks away to the left when he is hiding something from her and that he scrapes the back of his neck when he is embarrassed.

“I-I had sex with her,” he blurts out, avoiding her gaze while he still applies pressure on the bandage covering the wound on her forearm.

“Holy shit,” her eyes widened, not expecting this kind of disclosure. “Wait, what about Padma?”

“You know she is not my girlfriend, Charlz,” he sighs, finally sustaining her non-judgmental azure irises. It' s one of the things he likes about her; she never judges him and even if she did, he wouldn't know since she hides it so well.

“Was it good?” she does not insist about Padma, knowing perfectly well that she is the first one to know. He doesn't answer, looking thoughtful as if a million thoughts are running through his head. He steals the bottle of alcohol from her, gulping down a few ounces of the throat-burning liquid.

“What aren’t you telling me, Marcus?”

He shuts his eyes, exhaling loudly.

“I don’t know if I was good… God, I don’t even know if she came!” her heart tightens; he looks distraught and she knows that this is a big deal to him, after all, he just lost his virginity. He breathes heavily, his jaw as tightly clenched as his fists.

“Show me.”

“What?!” he opens one eye, eyebrows furrowed as if he was questioning if she was being serious.

“Show me what you did, I’ll tell you if it’s good,”

“You’re drunk, Charlz…I don-” he stops as soon as her silver rings coated hands grip the hem of his olive shirt, grazing the soft skin of his lower abdomen with her fingertips. Sitting on her knees, she brings her head up to his neck, pressing her lips against the skin. The feeling of her wet lips on his burning skin sends a shiver running through his spine.

“I’m sober enough to remember everything and give you my consent,” she whispers to his ear and he almost moans when she slightly nibbles his lobe. Her hands slips to the back of his neck, forcing him to hover over her as she lies on her back.

Both his hands are lingering on the buckle of her belt, struggling to undo it. She clutches his chin with one hand, plunging her reassuring gaze into his. He looks nervous, his hands trembling slightly when he takes off her jeans. She presses her lips to his Adam's apple, feeling him tense up at first, but relax as she sensuously slides her tongue up to his sculpted jaw.

“A-are you good with two figers?” he nervously asks, his right hand resting on the edge of her panties.

“Yes,” he hesitantly slips his hand into her panties, parting her legs with his other hand before sliding his index and middle fingers up and down her folds. She can see him blush when an almost quiet moan escapes her lips at the feeling of his fingers inside her core. He pumps them in and out slowly, as if he was afraid to hurt her.

“Try to curl them in a ‘come here’ movement,” she demonstrates with her own fingers. He nods and mimics her actions, making her whimper under him.

“That feels good,” she encourages him. “What did you do next?” she softly asks, rubbing her thumb against his cheek to sooth him.

“Hum, well, we-um, you know, did it,” he says, blushing like a little child who just got his first kiss with the popular girl.

“You didn’t go down on her?” she asks, looking quite shocked. He seemed clueless. “I mean, you didn’t use your mouth?”

“Uh no, should I have?”

“You boys really know nothing about female pleasure,” she sights. “Try watching lesbian porn next time, you will learn A LOT more,” He almost chokes, not expecting to hear this come out of his best friend's lips while his fingers are still inside her. They've always been comfortable with each other, but not to the point of talking about the kind of porn they listen to. The idea of her best friend watching porn and getting herself off almost made him cum in his pants.

“You do know what a cunniligus is, right?”

“God, Charlz, I’m not five years old! Yes, I know what it is!” he exclaims, his ego lightly bruised by her question.

“Well, show me then, playboy,” she challenges him, a cocky smile slipping on her lips. the alcohol going slightly to her head.

He pulls her to the edge of the mattress, kneeling at the foot of the bed between her legs. His lips kiss the skin on the inside of her thighs, sucking it until he sees a dark red mark appear. He gets rid of her underwear in the blink of an eye before placing her legs over his shoulders. He darts his tongue out of his mouth, licking a long strip between her folds without giving her the chance to acknowledge what was going on. He stops once his tongue rests on the bundle of nerves, licking around it in a circular motion.

“Fuck,” she moans. “I wasn’t expecting that.”

“You really think I've never watched lesbian porn?” he teases her, biting the inside of her thigh, making her body jolt. He dives back his head to her core, sucking her clit into his mouth.

At leats he know where the clit is.

"Oh my god Marcus," she moans, squirming against his grip. He places his arm over her lower abdomen, pinning her body against the mattress. She can feel his two fingers sliding back into her core, the sudden feeling causing her hips to buck up against his face.

“Are you gonna be a good girl and cum for me, hun?” he praises her, fingers curling inside her just like she taught him. She could barely feel herself, letting out a series of high-pitched moans as Marcus tongue was working on her bundle of nerves.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” she whimpers, her head pressed down against the matress. Her fingers tangle in his dark hair, tucking at the roots as she let out a cry, the euphoric feeling taking over her body for a moment. Marcus looks up to see her eyes shut tightly, her legs shaking on his shoulders. He can feel her core pulsating around his fingers as she comes down from her high.

He took a mental picture of her, engraving this moment in his memory forever.

─── ° • ❀ ───

taglist; @cognacdelights @ellegotohell @janedartist

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eremiie · 3 years

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ok ok so can you write a nsfw about armin being a little jealous about your outfit before a party and fucking you stupid until you can’t speak to let you know you’re his😋😋

thank youuu

speak up;

❥ armin x reader | nsfw | 2.5k words

❥ content: choking, semi-public sex, armin is a menace, armin is also a sneaky bitch, armin gets jealous🙄

armin didn't like the eyes on you.

they were too many people rubbing against you. he could practically feel the sweat rubbing against your skin as you danced with the crowd, the people stepping on your own pretty toes, and he could almost hear the slosh of people's drinks in their cups as they moved around the floor.

armin never really had a problem with eyes on you, as a matter of fact— it always made him feel a small sense of bashful pride. it was like recognition that yes, him, armin arlert had you in his hands. that you were his, and he took pride in that, he loved to show you off in the most subtle ways, and loved hearing compliments about you from others.

but today was a little different, for one, he didn't want to be at this party. he was only there because you and eren had dragged him to it. the two of them claimed that it'd be nice to see him out for a little bit and not in the comfort of his dorm, as if he never got out. he was sure they failed to realize that he out of all their friends was the one most likely to agree to any gathering they wanted to go to. that he was usually present, and happy to come along.

you tried dragging him out to the crowd with you but he was fine with where he sat next to mikasa and jean. he kept his eye on you though, watching the way your hips moved with the music and the way your face was graced with this constant smile. you were clearly enjoying yourself, clearly enjoying yourself maybe a little too much that you weren't aware of the guy behind you, smiling back down at you with his drink in hand, the liquid in the cup too close to tipping over and spilling on you.

it'd be a shame if it did, you looked too pretty. your dress was too pretty. it came up mid thigh, a pretty baby blue color that complimented your skin all too well— not to mention his favorite color of the lot. the dress showed your cleavage coming down to reveal a bit of your stomach just between your breasts while the sleeves and the rest of the dress were tight around your body.

armin remembered complimenting you on your attire just earlier before the party, giving you a sweet smile and telling you how beautiful you looked. but now, since he wasn't enjoying his self it was a shame that other people got to enjoy how good you looked and he didn't. that other people got to be so close to you, feeling the fabric of your dress against their skin and not his.

armin didn't like sharing. what was his was his, and he didn't see a reason it had to be anyone else's.

he almost wanted the guy next to you to spill his drink over you so he had a reason to drag you to the bathroom, and help you get cleaned up. scold you for being too close to everyone else, although there wasn't necessarily an issue with that, he knew that if he selected his words carefully he could make even the dumbest things come from his mouth sound plausible.

maybe if he stared long enough the cup would tilt over.

"armin, are you okay?" his head whipped to the side, practically jolting at the sound of his name. he was clearly too caught up in his own thoughts, and mikasa must've caught him staring a little too hard your way.

he blinked a couple times, rubbings up and down his arms from where they were leaned forward on the table, collecting himself. he smiled at mikasa, nodding his head. "yeah! i'm fine, why what's up? are you okay?"

mikasa studied armin for a couple seconds before clearing her throat and reaching for her drink seated in front of her. she took a couple sips of the clear liquid, shaking her head as the drink washed down her throat before setting it down on the table with a reciprocating nod. her cheeks were slightly flushed, maybe from the temperature of the room, or the alcohol in her system. armin couldn't figure why as he was too lost in his own head only moments before. "yes, i'm fine. you looked a little upset."

"really?" was he that obvious? "me? upset? i've just been sitting here, i'm not upset."

"well, i know you didn't want to come, so i was just checking up on you."

armin hummed in response. she wasn't wrong, he didn’t want to be here. mikasa was just as observant as armin, so he let the conversation go, something else was occupying his thoughts anyways.

when he turned his head back to where you were previously dancing you weren't there anymore— neither was the guy you were dancing with, and armin's eyebrows came together, clear confusion dancing across his face while the cogs in his brain worked.

he glanced back towards mikasa, pushing his chair back and standing up. "where's _____?"

she fiddled with the handle of the glass in front of her, shaking her head at armin. "she went to the bathroom when we were talking."

armin breathed out a sigh of relief. how did he miss that? he wasn't insecure, no— it's just that there's a plethora of things that could've happened to you of course, the world was a crazy place after all. he found comfort in knowing you weren't too far from him. he trusted you, yes, but sometimes the thoughts in the back of his head made out the worst outcomes.

"thanks, i'll be right back. i have to use the bathroom too."

armin hadn't drank anything all night, actually, and mikasa knew this. there wasn't even a glass seated in front of him like her, but she brushed it off, averting her attention back to jean next to her.

the blonde swiftly made his way around the crowd of people until his hands were smoothing over the front door of the bathrooms. he saw the sign— there was a clear stick figure symbol of a woman on the door but he put the thought to the back of his mind. he already was making up an excuse if anyone had asked, although he knew that there'd be a rare chance of anyone else in the bathroom with you.

you didn't bother glancing to see who was at the door of the bathroom, continuing to dry your hands at the hand dryer. you couldn't help but remember when armin told you that hand dryers were actually less sanitary than drying with actual paper towels. the thought made you giggle to yourself.

you hadn't really seen armin all night, but you also didn't have to worry about this too much, as you looked to the side, armin's figure stalking towards you in the long mirror above the sinks.

you practically jumped out your skin, not expecting armin to be in the bathroom with you. you weren't even worried about the fact that he was in the women's bathroom yet, just the fact that the second your boyfriend was on your mind he was creeping up on you.

"armin!" you sighed, turning around and dragging your hands down the sides of your dress to rid your hands of the excess moisture. "what are you doing in here?"

armin looked up to the ceiling for a brief moment before grabbing your hand, pulling you more towards him. "what are you doing in here? isn't this the men's bathroom?"

you shook your head at armin, pressing yourself against his chest. you really did miss him, you felt away from him for almost too long. "did you read the sign? this is the girls bathroom, hon."

"must've missed it." he murmured, hand smoothing over the back of your dress. "you know what else i missed?" when your head lifted off his chest to look up at him he moved both of his hands to your sides, softly pushing you backwards until your backside was met with the counter of the sink.

"me?"

"you."

his lips pressed against your own, only a quick peck at first, a smile gracing his face at the simple gesture. your eyes dart towards the door for a second but before you could say anything armin connected his lips with yours again, taking your jaw between his cold slender fingers.

you could feel the soft locks of his hair on your forehead, and smell the familiar scent of fresh linen drifting off of him. it was comforting being in his presence again, almost like all your thoughts melted away whenever he came around. he brought a sense of security with him— you almost were no longer worried about someone walking in. of course the thought did still linger on your mind.

his tongue slipped into your mouth as he held your jaw gently before kissing the corner of your lips, your cheek and then your ear, turning your body around, the two of you facing the mirror. he pressed up against your backside, his lips pecking your neck before resting on your shoulder for a brief moment. "missed you so much."

"missed you too, min." his hand teased its way down the slit between your breasts, finger tips grazing over the soft fabric of your dress, you could feel them oh so gently over your skin, as if he was trying to be gentle with you. his head buried into your neck, inhaling your smell and relishing in the feeling of you against him. you were thankful to be with him once more, but you could tell he wanted something more just by the way his body slotted with yours. "but, not here."

armin pouted, hands dancing their way down to your thighs until they were pulling at the hem of your dress, simply snapping it against your skin over and over again. "come on, nobody will come in." he stared at you through the mirror, grinning at you while his blue eyes steadied on yours. they reminded you of the dress that was clad against your body, such a pretty shade. "plus you look beautiful, baby."

with the way armin peppered your neck in kisses you almost didn't realize the way your dress began to slide up your thighs and over your ass, until you felt armin's hands palming the soft plush of your thighs, a content hum rumbling deep in his throat.

you knew he was hard to stop once he started, he was clearly a little desperate to have you— although you weren't sure why. it wasn't usual for him to be so eager to have his hands on you, for him to be so touchy. he knew your personal space and your boundaries; not that he was pushing them, it was just odd to see him so bound on being close to you like this.

"thank you," you tried to further push the thought of the door opening at any second to the back of your brain while armin payed attention to your lower half. his hands tickled your sides as he pulled your underwear down by hooking his finger the band and pulling until they were dropping to your ankles, your body shuddering at the cold air meeting your cunt. "armin—"

"so beautiful." his gaze was trained on you, glistening with your slick, and his hand pushed your back further down until you were leaning against the sink counter, armin's hands working at your ass. "gonna make you feel so good, right? want me to make you feel good?"

when you felt his thumb prod at your entrance, and the fumble of his belt and jeans you let out a small gasp, immediately biting your lip and answering with an "mhm" which he took as an okay. once his pants were gathered around his waist he wasted no time lining himself up with you, inching his way in with a loud groan that he was sure nobody could hear over the music just outside the bathrooms.

armin wasn't afraid of getting caught, it was something he liked about the thought of it— the thought of someone, anyone walking into him fucking you hard, your body bent over the sink counter. it would only go to show that it was and would always be him fucking you, not some random intoxicated guy who managed to get behind you on the floor, not anybody, just him.

he didn't even realize that he was fucking into you harder, faster, until he heard cut up whimpers of his name from you, your hand reaching back to try to grab at his thigh. "armin," you managed to get out as you watched him through the mirror, his eyes meeting yours. "fuck."

the sight was nice, blonde hairs that hugged his forehead bouncing with every one of his thrusts, a blush crawling over his porcelain skin with one of his hands on your hips pulling you back on him and the other pressing into the small of your back.

your lips were parted, tits jumping with every stroke of his as you laid your head against your arm that was folded underneath you, taking armin almost effortlessly as if he was made for you. it felt so good, like he said it would, and you didn't doubt him for a second. he always knew how to fuck you just right, how to make you dumb just from his cock, no matter the occasion.

he grabbed your hand trying to reach for him and folded it over your back where his hand was previously. seeing you held down under him, for him, made something twist in his stomach, his dick twitching from inside you.

you winced at the angle, opening your mouth to speak but nothing coming out. armin spoke for you though, leaning down to your ear, only causing you to wince from the strain on your arm. "what's that?"

your eyes squeezed shut at the sensation, him stretching you out nicely, pulling out until you were only full with his tip until pushing in deep, sliding against your walls. his hips met your ass with every thrust and you let out a broken moan when he used his free hand to wrap around the back of your neck and pull you up until his breath could be felt against your ear. "you wanted to say something?" the new angle made his cock rub against that sweet spot inside of you, and when your body jerked the first time he hit it, he chuckled.

"min," you groaned, eyes fluttering to watch him fuck you from the mirror. his balls slapped against your ass every time he pumped into you, and you let your eyes roll back and shut again. you could barely form words, you knew your sentence would be jumbled. you knew it wouldn't come out right and armin felt pride in that.

"speak up, i can't hear you..." his voice still held that sweet undertone, almost condescending how he spoke to you. like he knew the affect he had, he knew how well he was fucking you. he let go of your arm and moved his hand to pull the slit of the dress to the side, one of your tits falling out, and armin letting his hand knead the soft flesh, giving him more leverage and pulling you closer to him. "am i fucking you that stupid that you can't even speak?"

with the way he spoke dirty in your ear, how he toyed with your sensitive buds, the way your slick pooled between your legs, and the way he used you how he wanted, attacking your neck with more kisses. soft pink lips sucking at your skin, nibbling and pulling with his teeth, it was all overwhelming. pleasure flood your body, and before you knew it you were tumbling over the edge, your orgasm crashing over you like a wave.

"armin!" was what you said when it hit you, squeezing around him too tight for his comfort, but he didn't slow down, continuing to fuck into you without faltering too much.

he was close himself, lip between his teeth to not make too much noise. but when he looked into the mirror and saw your fucked out expression as you continued to grind against him while riding out your orgasm, it seemed you were almost asking for more. he came abruptly, eyes widening as he shot into you, his cum hitting your cervix. he was not expecting to come right then and there.

another soft moan left your mouth that was barely audible over armin's own moans. "god, baby..." he panted, trying to catch his breath. his orgasm was intense, his body feeling ahead of his mind— like he needed to catch up to it as he was moving too fast and on his own when he was fucking you.

"i need more," you were still swiveling your hips against armin's, your hand that wasn't sitting behind your back toying at your clit as you stared at him with that same desperation he had earlier. now he had you hooked, and with the way his cock sat inside you, yes, you wanted more from him.

you were needy now, and armin had no problem giving you more either— after all you were his to pleasure and be pleasured.

his chest was still rising up and down as he tucked himself in quickly, helping you pull your own underwear up and your dress back down over your ass and over your breasts.

"let's get out of here and you can have more."

#armin #armin arlert #armin x reader #armin arlert x reader #armin x reader smut #armin arlert x reader smut #armin aot #armin arlert aot #armin smut #armin arlert smut #snk armin

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plaid-shirtsandvibranium-arms · 3 years

Text

Nemesis: Retribution (3)

Summary: 10 years after the Avengers had left you for dead during a mission gone wrong, you unexpectedly re-enter their lives. Wholly unrecognizable from the person they used to know and now with a new team behind you, they ask for your help to stop a chain of syndicates who were manufacturing and peddling the super soldier serum. You were determined to say no until the chance at the vengeance you had been chasing for years was added to the offer.

Fandoms: Avengers, Marvel, MCU, The Punisher, Daredevil

Pairings: Female Reader x (Frank Castle, Billy Russo, Matt Murdock, Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Pietro Maximoff)

Warnings: EVENTUAL SMUT. SHAMELESS SEXUAL BEHAVIOURS. (18+ ONLY), polyamorous relationships, reverse harem, blatant disregard for canon timelines and events, lots of angst, Punisher canon level of violence and gore, strong language, mentions of trauma, character death, fluff if you squint

A/N: We’re playing fast and loose with canon here people. Also thank you for the interactions. I love reading what you think and it helps me write the next chapters better. Also, I enjoy having someone to freak out with. Highlight of my life I swear to god. Enjoy!

No permission is granted to repost, steal, or translate my work. Not even a credit makes it okay. Tumblr is the only place I post my writing. If you see it anywhere else please report it.

Series Masterlist | Full Masterlist

1:3 Hard Candy

Natasha stormed off the jet and into the conference room where she knew the rest of the team were waiting for them, fury radiating from her small frame. Catching sight of her target only made her grow angrier. She immediately ran up to Steve and growled up in his face causing him to immediately take a step back. Sam and Bucky were immediately alarmed, standing up to intervene and the latter's black vibranium arm whirring in preparation but Steve held up a hand to stop them.

"What the hell, Rogers? You send me on a mission with zero intel and this is what I find? Did you know?"

Steve's eyes narrowed down at her, the thick beard and longer hair adding even more to his already commanding presence. He knew exactly what Natasha was talking about and he did expect her to react this way.

"I wasn't sure, Nat. And I didn't want to get anyone's hopes up if I was wrong."

"And if you were right?" she scoffed.

Steve swallowed hard before he answered, the blue in his eyes calming considerably. "I thought the three of you deserved to be the first to know."

"What the hell is going on?" Bucky asked, arms crossed on his chest and brows deeply furrowed. They didn't even know about any mission.

Natasha chuckled humorlessly and backed off from Steve. She ran a hand through her hair, the red bleeding into the old blonde color, and gestured toward the door at the approaching people.

"Well you weren't wrong, Steve."

Shock.

That was the overall theme of the day it seemed. None of them could hardly believe that you were actually standing at the doorway. It's been ten long years and you were like the ghost haunting their dreams during that time, a pure and kind soul taken far too soon. Hell, they told stories about your selfless sacrifice to the new recruits. You had unknowingly become a legend.

A legend turned ghost story.

Now you looked more like a nightmare; dried blood caked your clothes and skin, a cold smirk lifting the corner of your lips, and a dangerous unhinged glint in your eyes.

"Well, I'll be damned," Sam breathed. "Y/N?"

"Hey, Sam," you said, the almost flirtatious lilt in your voice sending a shiver down their spines. "I go by Nemesis now."

"Nemesis?" Bucky snapped out of his daze, brows raised high and his jaw clenched, features seen clearer now with his shorter hair. "The notorious mercenary Nemesis?"

"I prefer private contractor."

While they had been honoring your memory, you had been building a ruthless reputation of your own that was widely considered on par in violence with The Punisher but with the added disturbing fact that you could be hired. Of course, no one but a select few knew who you actually were.

Until today.

Nemesis. The Greek goddess of divine retribution and revenge. A name that suited the dark avenging persona you had adapted and the only purpose you now lived for. In a twisted kind of way, you were doing the same work they were only with far less finesse and none of the righteous for the good of mankind purpose they usually had.

You shrugged, sitting yourself casually down on the nearest chair on the other end of the long table from where they stood. You have had a long night, your feet were tired and they were still looking at you with absolute confusion and disbelief. This looked like it would take a while.

You rolled your eyes as you unbuckled your stained bulletproof vest, throwing it haphazardly on the table. You hazarded a glance at each one of them as you made yourself comfortable, noting the changes in them too. The years had given way to a solemn maturity to each one, it seems things had changed for them too.

"Now that I'm here, you have 12 minutes."

"12 minutes? Until what?" Steve stammered.

He couldn't keep his eyes off you, couldn't for the life of him reconcile the person he was seeing in front of him with the person he knew. From your expressions to your movements and even to the tone of your voice, you were just so different and yet it just seemed to make you a more magnetic presence. Fresh guilt washed over him, knowing that he had failed you as your Captain. They should have kept looking for you.

"You'll see. 11 minutes now. Either ask your questions or tell me what you want."

"We all thought you were dead," Steve muttered, taken back by your hostility.

"Well that obviously didn't stick. How did you find me, Cap?"

It was Steve who found you. At first he couldn't believe it was really you, but the split second glimpse he got of your eyes from the body cam on one of the field agents weeks ago drove him to obsessively dig further. It was a shot in the dark when he sent Natasha and the twins on the mission tonight.

"By chance," he admitted. "We've been chasing a group of people suspected to be manufacturing and selling the super soldier serum. Our agents have had a few close encounters with you. I think we're going after the same people."

"So you're asking for intel?" you snorted, absentmindedly picking at the bloodstains on your sleeves.

"No," he said cautiously, wary at how relaxed yet tightly coiled you looked. "I'm offering you your spot back with the team."

You almost choked on the laugh that just escaped your lips. You couldn't help the short bark of laughter at the ridiculous proposition. Looking at their faces though it seemed that the offer was serious, although the reluctant look in their eyes at your transformation showed their inner conflict. You straightened your features and shook your head, the amused smile still on your lips.

"Look, I'm not exactly on brand for you guys anymore." You leaned forward with your arms on the table and landed your eyes squarely on Bucky's, the venom unmistakable. "Besides, I seem to recall I was deemed not cut out for this team."

Bucky felt like his soul left him at your words. There was a Molotov cocktail of emotions raging inside him; surprise, shame, relief, anger, guilt, and longing. It was killing him knowing that he had a hand in how drastically you had changed. He was deathly afraid of finding out your full story. He wanted to talk to you, wanted to beg for your forgiveness and make things right. How many chances would anyone get to redeem oneself with a ghost? He couldn't find the words though, his throat going dry and his tongue heavy in his mouth.

"Y/N, you know that's not the truth," Steve tried to insist.

"I'm not Y/N anymore and I already have a team." You waved a hand dismissively. "Also your 12 minutes are up."

All at once the power cut out in the Compound, drenching the room into darkness punctuated by the flashing emergency lights. You felt yourself get lifted off your seat and the next moment you were standing behind a formation of Avengers in the arms of the resident speedster, your arms on his chest to steady yourself from the daze of the sudden movement. His muscles were tense beneath your hands but his expression was gentle as he looked down at you.

He had wanted to rush over to you the moment you revealed your face. He wanted to hold you, jump for joy, speed around the entire city with you in his embrace. How you were alive didn't matter to him.

Only that you were.

It was only at Wanda's warning for him to stay back that he did. She showed him that you weren't the same person anymore and that they weren't sure whether you would still be friend or foe. To Pietro though, you weren't different.

You were just angry.

To him you were still his little star despite the others thinking you were closer to a supernova now. His little star was just hurting and he decided that he would do everything in his power to help you heal. He held your head tighter to his chest, intending to protect you from the anticipated danger and ready to get you to safety at a moment's notice.

"What the damn hell is going on?" Sam yelled, readying his guns.

A figure silently jumped through the window and rolled on the floor to stop right in front of the group, jolting the Avengers to defend. He stood to full height and took a fighting stance; clad in head to toe red, billy clubs at the ready, and horns glinting in the sparse light atop his head.

The Devil of Hell's Kitchen.

"Let Nemesis go," he growled.

Natasha stepped forward, snapping her own batons in place. The crackling of the electricity from it sent lights to dance on the menacing expression on her face. The rest of the team watched closely the other entry points, expecting more to come in and if the first was any indication then they were in for a real fight.

Footsteps could be heard coming down the hallway, loud and not at all trying to be concealed. Walking straight through the front door, were two towering men in heavy military gear each holding an assault rifle aimed at the group. The sneer on one lent a dangerous taunting aura to his surprisingly handsome features as if to say just fucking try me. While the other had a burning steely focus that instinctively made anyone back off, the emblem on his black vest told them exactly who he was.

The Punisher.

The Avengers snapped to attention, each one drawing their weapons and aiming back. The air was crackling with animosity and fingers that itched to pull their respective triggers. Everyone held their breath, waiting for the first to break the standoff in the enclosed space. Willing for someone to break it.

You laughed.

The disorientation at your reaction was palpable across the room. You patted Pietro's chest, grinning up at him in reassurance that everything was fine. He released you from his hold reluctantly and let you step out of the protective cluster they had inadvertently formed around you. The three newcomers visibly relaxed the slightest bit at the sight of you.

"Weapons down," you said calmly, eyeing each one in the room. No one budged. "All of you. Now."

Steve being the first one to lower his shield was the catalyst in diffusing what could have been the fight of the century. As outnumbered as the newcomers were, they lacked nothing in skill and precise brutality. Frank followed in lowering his weapon and soon everyone did the same. There was still tension but at least it was now reduced to intense glaring.

You tutted and shook your head as you strutted your way to your three rescuers. "What I needed was a ride home, Frankie. Not a goddamn full extraction op."

"Sorry, sweetheart," he said, not sounding at all apologetic and knowing you weren't really angry if the tired amusement on your face was anything to go by.

He smiled at you, that small open quirk at the corner of his mouth that was always accompanied by a roll of his tongue. He reached for you when you got close enough, drawing you close with a burly arm around the back of your shoulders. He kissed you on the forehead, a lingering gesture that clearly showed an intimacy between the two of you. The soft look on his face was reserved only for you and when he raised his face to the Avengers it was back to the cold threatening glare.

"Can you blame us though?" His voice came out gravelly, a favorite sound of yours. "The last time you were with these guys you were captured and tortured."

Tortured.

The word hung heavy in the air and though your back was turned, you could imagine the look on the faces of your former team. They didn't know about that yet. How could they when they had believed all this time that you died in the explosion?

"You forgot to mention blown up," Matt added, grabbing your hand and pressing it to his lips.

He removed his helmet, floppy brown hair instantly softening his persona. He peppered kisses on your palm and the inside of your wrist as he breathed in your scent to calm his own anxiety. He almost lost it when Billy had called saying that you had been taken. He was usually the last one to jump to immediate violence in your group, but the thought of you gone filled him with irrational fear. The possibility that history could repeat itself was unacceptable to him.

"I should have come with you."

"I could handle it and Billy was with me."

"Lot of good that did," he scoffed, switching to lightly biting your wrist. This wasn't unusual. Being blind, he relied on a more intense physical reassurance that everything was still as it should be.

"They weren't gonna hurt me, Matty," you argued, but it was more to help settle his nerves.

"All right, leave the foreplay for later," the last of the trio said, pulling you by your other hand closer to him.

He held you tightly by the waist and pressed you close, molding your body to his in a practiced motion. The smile on his face was scandalous and the mischief in his eyes was one that spelled trouble. The cheeky bastard winked at you before dipping his head to lay open mouthed kisses on your neck up to your ear right along your old scars. Shivers went down your spine and you couldn't help the low hum as your body reacted instinctively to him, stepping closer still until you could feel the heat of his body through his gear.

You knew exactly what he was doing. He was always the quickest to show affection in front of company, but this was a particularly golden opportunity for him to stake his claim in front of people he believed did not value you enough. Billy wouldn't be Billy if he didn't take it.

"Hey, pretty girl."

Across the room, the Avengers watched on with blatant curiosity at the apparent intimately familiar exchanges. It wasn't as much the fact that three men were bathing you with affection, but more that this cemented how far removed you were from their memory of you. They knew you as a starry-eyed recruit who stuttered at light teasing and preening at the slightest validation.

"Y/N," Steve called for you, forcing you to step away from Billy for the moment. You turned around to face them but Billy didn't let you go far, slinging his arm over your chest and this time contorting his body to yours.

"I told you, Steve. I'm not Y/N anymore," you said, a fleeting sadness flashed in your eyes before it was replaced with a firm pride. "And this is my team."

"We're taking our girl home," Frank declared, the threat underneath didn't need to be verbalized. If they took you again, it wouldn't end well for anyone.

"Wait!" Steve said urgently, halting your exit. "We'll hire you."

It was a last ditch effort. He was grasping at straws to keep you from disappearing from their lives again. He knew that if you walked out that door now there was no chance of ever getting you back. He just could not let that happen. This would only be temporary at best, but at least it would buy him time to convince you of a more permanent arrangement.

"Not interested."

"Nem." Matt as usual cautioned you from being too hasty. "Is this about the syndicates?"

You sighed. Matt was like a dog with a bone now. There was no choice but to let him chew on it. This was particularly important to him because the syndicates had been running amok in Hell's Kitchen and he was starting to find it difficult to keep his backyard clean.

"Yeah, apparently the stuff we found in the shipment yard was for making super soldier serums. The Avengers have been following the trail too."

"Why not just join forces then? We can get this done and over with a lot faster with their help," he reasoned.

"We're doing fine on our own, Matty."

"Matt has a point, sweetheart," Frank cut in. "We've been chasing this for years. I know a part of you is just itching to end all of this."

"It might help us find him faster. Do you really want to spend another ten years pulling at threads?" Matt added.

You closed your eyes, hands clenching at your sides to control your anger. It grated at you when they ganged up on you like this, but your anger was more because they were right and you knew it. You hated it, but they were right.

It was Billy who intervened, pulling you again to hug you from behind. His hold was firmer than before, aimed more to calm your shaking body. His voice came out calm, but resolute. His first priority was always making sure you were okay and you obviously weren't okay with this.

"You heard the lady. It's a no."

Frank and Matt sighed and shook their heads, but backed off. They weren't about to push you about this no matter how much they knew this would help you. They'll try again to convince you later, but they weren't optimistic. It was fortunate for them that there was more than just one stubborn person in the room.

"Please," Steve interrupted. You had almost forgotten that there were other people in the room. Almost. "We need your help. They have someone who keeps getting in our way and every time we get close he either fights us long enough for the trail to grow cold or leads us on wild goose chases. We can't let that serum be available to whoever can pay for it."

He didn't know what it was that he said that made all of your heads snap in his direction. Your eyes in particular were suddenly wild with barely restrained fury. He would take it. At least he had your attention.

"We can't let that happen, Nemesis," he finished, making sure to use your preferred name. Anything to possibly get himself into your good graces.

"Do you have a name?" you ground out.

"What?"

"A name, Steve. Do you know who this guy is?"

"By the way he fights he seems to be a merc too. Looks like military background though from where I'm not sure," he said slowly, carefully choosing his words in the hopes of you changing your mind. "He goes by Salvacion."

"We're in."

Earth's Mightiest was stunned at the sudden reversal of your decision. As firm as you had rejected the offer, you were jumping at it now with the addition of your own team.

"Let's get one thing straight though, Cap," you began, the rage still burning in your eyes like wildfire. "My team and I will work with you. It's all of us or none of us. We'll help you lock up the syndicates and destroy the serum. We'll play nice, but Salvacion is mine."

Steve took a deep breath, relieved that you had agreed but also deeply concerned at your visceral reaction to a name. He had to ask.

"Why?"

"Because that's the motherfucker who killed my sister."

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

A/N: I feel like you guys have more questions now. Come freak out with me through the comments and reblogs! I write faster when people freak out with me. It’s the truth. Now that you’ve seen our girl with ALL our strapping men, what do you think? Who are you most curious about now?

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purityoflust · 3 years

Text

The Smile [Jeff The Killer X Victim!Reader] [PART 2]

Jeff the killer X Victim!

WARNING: Yandere. That's it. Yandere.

I finally decided how I would write part 2 to The Smile, which is my first and most popular post on my account so far. Anyone new who has come to read this, check out my other posts as well if you'd like. I'll post more like this. I also have a Quotev account with more fanfictions.

9/12/20, 3/4 days after the top part: God, AFTER SO LONG, I FINALLY DID IT! Took me days! I'm so sorry if this is a bit lazy, it is a tiny bit rushed by the end but how would you guys feel about a detailed part 3? I'll probably go as far as a part 3 or part 4 for the final part.

The vibrations in your brain felt warm and numbing - almost like when you have a horrible migraine and you can finally feel it subsiding with your eyes closed and your fingers gently holding down onto your eyelids as if you're holding your eyes into place to prevent them from bursting out of your skull. Upon waking up you can feel cold air settling into your skin. You haven't been awake 3 minutes and you already know what you're resting on; an extremely uncomfortable metal table. You've only seen them in movies but this was real.

The sound of a singsong voice just slightly echoing through what seemed like a moderately empty room. You groaned softly as you turned your head to your right, very slowly opening your eyes. Your vision blurred in and out, which, you wanted to rub to clear it out but as you went to lift your wrists, you felt pressure around them.

Something was holding your arms down. This catches your attention, blinking multiple times while turning your head back up straight and attempting to sit up. You were hardly successful with that, struggling while grunting under your breath to pull your hands from under what seemed to be a thick rope. As you pulled harder, you sucked in your stomach out of habit before immediately coming to a halt and choking up in pain.

This whole time you were ignoring the voice that was singing eerily nearby, "You and me, always forever~"

The voice was of a male. Scratchy, shaky. Familiar.

Familiar.

You could feel a string of your heart pop out of place as your breath stopped. That's when you knew something was wrong, but it just doesn't add up. You gulp while your eyeballs vigorously glance around to see where the source was coming from, only to see a figure in a corner. It was doubled over and it was sitting down on a simple wooden chair. Doubling over a...table? An average male figure, nothing unique. Although, the clothing style was unusual. At least what was on the clothes. He wore a fluffy white hoodie and what seemed to be black pants and black-and-white converse. The problem wasn't the outfit, no. His hoodie was spotted and had patterns upon patterns of darkened and more fresh-looking blood splatter. He had long black hair down to his shoulders. And luckily, his back was facing you.

You were dumbfounded. How did you get here, why are you restrained, and why is there a blood covered man near you? Is that even blood? Maybe it's paint or a design? Some people do wear clothes that have different kinds of blood splatter designs on them. Hm. Or he's an actual murderer about to gut you like a fish.

You wanted to speak. You wanted to speak so badly but you just couldn't. As you parted your lips, your throat went dry while your gaze stayed locked onto the bloody male that sat before you. The singing made you shiver as you tried so hard to remember where you could have heard or seen him. Why can't you remember?

The male then turned around to look at you. His singing had come to a gentle halt. Your mouth closed as he did so, your throat going completely dry and your whole body feeling like an ice cube. You were greeted with cold blue eyes. They looked hungry and bloodthirsty, yet they held a warm affection as they looked into your traumatized eyes. It was almost comforting until you saw the rest of his face. His skin was snow white and his lips looked dry. That's when more attention is drawn to his lower jaw. He's smiling. Too big for a normal person.

That's when you realize. He has a large smile carved into his cheeks going from ear to ear while his own lips were curled within a smile as well. And that's when it hits you.

And it hits you hard.

The memories of hours prior start brutally crashing into you, flooding back into your numb brain. All of the realization replaced itself with agonizing anxiety, your heart starting to race at speeds that felt impossible. You could pass out, but something inside you kept you awake. Something about him and about this whole situation was making you dizzy. The male slowly stands and turns his body all the way to face you. He seemed deranged, yet, he had a very relaxed stance and body language.

Uncomfortable silence loomed in the air.

He kept staring at you before slowly taking steps forward. You watch him carefully as your head feels like it's spinning, which you could notice your vision blurring a little bit here and there. The silence is suddenly disturbed with the male speaking up again, choking up in giggles. "Oh my sweet Y/N, you're awake~" He cooed, now standing over you. He leaned himself down and reached his hand to your cheek, gently brushing your skin with his surprisingly soft thumb. He leaned his face closer to yours. The smell of booze, blood, & smoke overwhelmed your nostrils. Yet it didn't seem to bother you that much.

His touch almost kind of made you feel...at ease. Your heart slowed itself and your breathing went back to pace. You felt fine, somewhat, but something in your stomach was still sore. The more you stare at him, the more memories come flooding back. The more memories flooding back, the easier you fit the puzzles together.

"M-my...stomach..--" You stutter out painfully.

In response to this, the male turned his head over to your abdomen and gently rested his other hand onto your bandaged stomach, applying very gentle pressure on it as to not hurt you. It was still slightly painful, causing you to groan under your breath.

"Oh, this...I'm sorry, my sweet butterfly. I had to make sure you wouldn't get away, and you didn't! Don't worry, Jack patched you up, so you'll be just fine!"

You remember now. You remember it all. The chase, your friend, the salty kiss before what you thought was your demise.

You naturally wondered as well; who's Jack?

"Wh-.." You weakly force air out of your throat again to speak, "why am I..tied-?"

"Oh, so you wouldn't be able to get away. I knew you would run away, or struggles, so I had to make sure you wouldn't do that!"

He was right. You would run away and struggle to get out of whatever the hell kind of place you're in. Well, knowing what he looks like. He DID stab you, after all. Who knows what this sicko wants.

He lifts his hand from your stomach and turns back to you, gently placing both of his hands at each side of your face. "You're so beautiful, Y/N. So sweet and so innocent. I couldn't keep letting the others eat you up like candy. You're mine and only mine. I need to protect you."

"Wh-who- are you?" You weren't really all too scared for some strange reason now. You were pretty calm. Probably from all of the energy this is draining.

"His name is Jeff." A deep and gruff voice cuts in.

The both of you turn your heads to the door of the room where a tall figure in all black stood. He was about 6"4 wearing heavy boots, black jeans, and a black hoodie. His hair was a dark brown though while he wore a mask. The mask was a dark blue with black goo oozing from the eyesockets. He was pretty intimidating even just by standing idly like a character waiting to be loaded in.

"And I'm Jack." He continued, "I'm the one who took care of your wound."

Jack stepped closer, soon standing at the other side of the table. He stood at the left as Jeff stood at the right.

"He wouldn't stop insisting I help."

You just blink, unknowing of what to respond with. He pursed his lips under his dark mask, in his own thought for a moment while staring down at you. You seemed calm enough, and your still pretty fresh injury was gonna hold you back anyway.

"[P]-[Pronoun]'s gonna-!" He attempts to blurt out, only to be stopped by you.

"I won't."

You were untied at your wrists and ankles, allowing yourself to pull your legs up and rest your feet at the top of the table, propping your knees up. It made your stomach feel weird, but it felt kind of nose and felt like it was easing the pain. You wrapped your arms around your knees, looking around the room more. "What is this place?" You ask.

"It's a medical room."

"Huh.." You shrug it off. Your anxiety levels had died down and the more you actually think about it, this isn't the worst thing that's happened. Your life has been pretty fucked up and you have damaged relationships everywhere. Honestly, being around new people and being far away from others sounds not too bad right now. Not like anyone would care anyway.

The next few hours, you're introduced to everyone else at the Mansion. They've been so...unique and honestly, you're surprised some people and beings like them even exist. They were all equally surprised with how little fear you showed.

You actually got along with most of them.

The others have taken a liking to you and hope you hang around longer. Alone in the living room, you, Jeff, Jack, and others sit at the couches and chairs in the living room, chatting away and getting to know them as they get to know you.

You feel Jeff wrap his arms around you and place a gentle kiss on your forehead, making your heart skip a beat.

You found out Jeff has been stalking you for months at a time. Watching your every move, eliminating anyone in the way. Huh, no wonder so many people in your life kept disappearing. You...couldn't bring yourself to be upset or scared, let alone even sad. You felt kind of at ease.

And far from uncomfortable. Someone loved you. Maybe more than they should, but they love you.

You didn't even feel upset at the fact Jeff had murdered that friend earlier. I mean, you just met the guy, so he wasn't even a 'friend'? So you paid no mind to it.

If anything, you really liked the thrill of someone being obsessed with you. A serial killer being so infatuated with you. He could be so protective of you and get rid of anyone you asked him to! There's is an advantage here. You knew he could snap and probably kill you intentionally or unintentionally, but you didn't mind. You really had no one else, technically speaking. No one that really cared. Not as much as he did.

Maybe he isn't so bad.

#Jeff the killer x reader #creepypasta #creepypasta x reader #part two #part 2 #yandere #male yandere #creepypasta x y/n #creepypasta x you #gender neutral #jeff the killer x you #jeff the killer x y/n #small series

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tripleaxeldiaz · 3 years

Text

nobody wants to hear you sing about tragedy

read on ao3

Eddie’s fine. Really. He’s got a fresh scar on his right shoulder, a twin to his other one, and a couple more medical bills to pay off, but other than that, everything is good.

Why shouldn’t it be? Things could be worse — he could’ve lost his arm, could’ve been shot in the spine instead, could’ve not survived the trip to the hospital. But he did — he’s healed, he’s still breathing, and he’s ready to get back to work on Monday, to stop staring at the inside of his house and get back to the life he’d finally started to feel settled in. There’s a twinge in his chest every time he thinks about actually being back out in the field, but it’s just nerves, a small worry at getting back into the swing of things. He knows the team and how well they work together, so he’s sure one rope rescue with Buck is all it’ll take to feel normal again.

He’s fine. Or almost fine. Really, he is. He doesn’t let the tremble in his hands or the ice in his gut tell him otherwise.

~~~~~~~~~~

It doesn’t really register, the first time it happens. There’s a glint of light in his periphery, and for a second, his arms go numb. It’s just a second, though — he sees the flash again, sunlight shining off an axe Ravi is packing onto the truck, and he moves on, doesn’t think about it again.

The next time, the wind whips by his ear a little too fast after a call at the pier, and he turns around so quickly he cracks his neck, the thought of bulletbulletbullet ricocheting in his head. It gets him a concerned look from Bobby and reminds him that he never called that therapist his doctor mentioned at his last visit, but he elects to deal with it later and moves on.

Things keep happening, but they’re all small, insignificant — someone laughing too loudly at dinner, the feel of hot asphalt under his hands as he reaches under the ambulance for a runaway bandage roll, a phantom jolt of pain in his shoulder when someone accidentally jostles him running to the truck.

Tiny things, meaningless, not even worth remembering.

He’ll get used to them, eventually. He’s been healing, isolated from the real world for months now, it’s going to be a bit of a shock to his system and his senses.

He doesn’t call the therapist.

~~~~~~~~~~

Buck’s happy. Genuinely happy, in an open, honest way that Eddie doesn’t think he’s ever seen. His laughs are still loud but they’re freer, unrestrained, and his smile is bright enough to light whatever room he’s in. It makes something sing in Eddie’s chest, especially when all that wattage gets directed at him. If he’s honest, the music’s been there for a while, it just took lying in his own blood, reaching toward the only thing that felt like safety, for him to finally put a name on the song that’s been playing.

Talk about shitty timing.

Because Buck’s with Taylor now, and as much as he still doesn’t care for her, she’s helping with Buck’s new attitude too. He sees the soft smiles that linger after a text from her, and he only gives himself a minute to wish it were for him instead before reminding himself how much of a miracle those smiles are at all.

If he had watched Buck get shot, been splattered with his blood, been soaked with it as he tried to stop it from leaking out of his chest, he’s not sure he would’ve had any kind of happiness to spare.

So he adds this feeling, this particularly green beast twisting in his chest, to the list of things that he’s just going to have to get used to, and moves on. Buck is still in his and Chris’ life, still at their house more than his own, still the center of both of their worlds, and that’s enough.

It has to be.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Wow, Eddie, you look like shit.”

He glares at Chimney as best he can, but he’s too tired for it to hold any heat. “Good morning to you too, Chim.”

Hen sits next to him at the table where he’s nursing his second mug of coffee of the day, downing the first one before driving Chris to school. She presses the back of her hand to his forehead, and he tries not to melt into the touch too much.

“You don’t feel warm,” she says, “but you look like you’ve been hit by a truck.”

He shrugs, staring down at his coffee. “Just haven’t been sleeping well.”

That may be an understatement. Not sleeping well implies sleeping at all, which Eddie’s not sure he’s been able to do in the past few days. It was easy enough when he first got home, still on pain meds that made his eyelids constantly heavy. And when Chris crawled into his bed the night after his sling came off, quiet but sniffling and burrowing into his side, it was a relief to gather him up close, a hand stroking through his hair as they both drifted off, clinging to each other. It was good for both of them, necessary to remind them both that Eddie is still here, but Chris went to his own room on Monday night instead of Eddie’s, and Eddie refused to take that choice away from him.

So he’s been alone, in a too dark room with a too big bed and a too loud brain that only shows him flashes of light and blood and fear whenever he does try to close his eyes.

Just another thing he has to get used to.

He sees Chim and Hen exchange a look and hopes to God they don’t press it. He’s beyond frayed, his state of exhaustion warring with his almost constant state of hypervigilance, and he’s not sure if he’d snap or cry or both if they try to ask him any more questions. Either way, that’s not how he wants them or anyone else to see him, especially not at work. At work, he’s Mr. Cool, always level headed, always in the game, always on top of it. Despite the jumpiness, despite the sense of dread that seems to be a permanent fixture under his skin, he’s been able to keep that attitude going, even getting lost in it sometimes, feeling like the Eddie of four months ago again. If that starts to unravel, who knows what other parts of him will fall apart with it?

Luckily, they seem to get the hint, a pat on the back and a squeeze on the shoulder as they leave the loft to restock the ambulance. But even once they’re gone and he’s alone in the quiet of the loft again, Eddie feels exposed. Fragile. Vulnerable. Teetering on the edge of an abyss he can’t afford to fall into. And he hates it, because this isn’t him. He’s the protector, the provider, the guy who’s survived getting shot twice now, and as much as he encourages Chris to be open and emotional, it still feels wrong to him, like something too close to failure. He knows, rationally, that talking about the mess in his head would probably help, but it would also feel like a loss. Like this one-sided war he’s been fighting was all for nothing.

He hears Buck before he sees him, his unmistakable bounding up the stairs echoing through the whole loft. Just that sound, just the knowledge that Buck is about to be in his vicinity, is enough to yank Eddie back from the edge. He’s not settled or calm or better, but he’s not worse. These days, that’s all he can really ask for.

Buck takes Hen’s vacant seat, stealing a sip of coffee and chattering about a traveling art exhibit he thinks they should take Chris to. Eddie feels the vice on his ribs loosen, letting Buck’s voice and enthusiasm wash over him, pushing him back to center. He doesn’t quite make it, not when Buck stops talking mid-sentence, brow furrowed and looking so intensely at Eddie he can probably see right through him

“You look tired,” Buck says.

Tired isn’t a strong enough word. But he smirks half heartedly instead, willing a little bit of his confidence back to get the subject changed sooner. “And here I thought I looked good today.”

“No, you always—“ Buck clears his throat and shakes his head, “You just look like you could use a nap. Are you okay?”

And for the first time since he woke up in the hospital with a new hole in his body and extra demons in his head, Eddie doesn’t want to say he’s fine. In the face of earnest blue eyes and worry lines, he doesn’t want to lie, and that’s exactly what an I’m fine would be, no matter how much he’s been trying to ignore it. He doesn’t want to downplay and pretend that it’s nothing, because it’s Buck. Buck who has seen him lower than he’s ever let anyone see, who slept on his couch so he was never too far away from him or Chris, who knows when Eddie needs to be pulled or pushed or pressed or none of the above.

He doesn’t want to just say he’s fine, because he’s not.

The courage to say so finally fills him, just in time for Buck’s phone to light up, Taylor’s name flashing across the screen on two messages. Buck doesn’t even glance at his phone before flipping it face down and pushing it to the side, but it’s too late — Eddie feels his walls going back up, any bravery leaving to make room for the reminder that Buck is in a good place and Eddie will do anything to keep him there. He’ll take another bullet, he’ll keep every emotion under lock and key, he’ll carve his own damn heart out of his chest if he has to. He cannot — will not — be the reason that smile that’s become so natural on Buck’s face dims by even a watt.

The crease in between Buck’s brow has only gotten deeper the longer Eddie hasn’t answered, so he musters up the most genuine smile he can. “I’m okay, Buck. I promise.” The lie cuts through his throat like broken glass.

Buck squints at him, scooting forward until his knees are digging into Eddie’s thigh. “You’d tell me if you weren’t, right?”

“Of course,” he says, another lie, more salt in the wounds he’s already given himself. Buck’s quiet for a few long moments, studying Eddie’s face, and Eddie prays that he doesn’t crack, that Buck doesn’t keep pressing. By some miracle, he doesn’t, just rests a hand on Eddie’s knee and squeezes before heading to the pantry for a snack.

The vice is back as soon as he’s out of sight, and Eddie’s list of things he has to learn to live with is starting to feel a little too long.

~~~~~~~~~~

Healing isn’t linear. It’s something he’s heard from every doctor he’s seen, every therapist he’s been assigned to, something he’s experienced first hand, physically and emotionally. So when he wakes up one morning feeling rested, energetic, and normal, he’s wary. He doesn’t want to focus on it, afraid he’ll scare this fragile feeling away, but he also wants to soak in it as much as he can. Wants to remember the easy laughs with the team and the night of board games with Chris and Buck when he’s inevitably surrounded by darkness again tomorrow.

He falls asleep and he doesn’t dream and he wakes up and feels...normal. Again. Same thing the morning after, and the morning after that. For a whole week, he doesn’t wake up with the taste of blood in his mouth or a soreness in his shoulder. He hears birds and sees the sun peaking in and feels something dangerously close to good. The wariness is still there, but every day it gets pushed a little farther back in his mind, making it a little easier to believe that while this feeling might not last, maybe it won’t be as dark when the clouds roll back in.

He’s wrong.

The restlessness comes back with a vengeance — a thrumming in his blood that won’t let him sleep, that amplifies every sound to sharp snaps that remind him too much of the gunfire he’s been trying to forget, putting him constantly on edge again. There’s a heaviness too, making it hard to breathe, hard to move, even though staying in one place for too long feels like putting a target on his back for the monsters that have made a home in his head.

He tries to keep his cool, tries to keep the facade up, but it’s hard to keep your balance on a frayed tightrope.

Bobby notices the shift right away.

It doesn’t help that even the quiet thump of the oven closing makes Eddie flinch where he’s sitting at the kitchen counter. He had hoped that watching Bobby make breakfast would calm him, remind him of the countless hours he’s spent in Abuela’s kitchen doing the very same thing, but it doesn’t. He’s still jittery, worse than he can remember being, and everything just feels like too much.

Bobby sets a to-go container down in front of him, and Eddie flinches (and curses himself) again. He looks up, confused, and is met with Bobby’s I’m about to tell you to do something and you are not allowed to say no look. Usually it’s Buck on the receiving end of that one.

He tries for a deflection. “Are we going somewhere, Cap?”

The look stays in place. “We are not. You are. There’s enough in there for you and Chris, take it home and don’t let me see you here for the next 48 hours.”

“There’s still three hours left of shift.”

Bobby pushes the container closer. “Go home, Diaz. Be with your kid. We’ll talk when you get back. And if you won’t talk to me, we’ll find someone you will talk to.”

Normally, he’d fight back. Raise his hackles, insist he doesn’t need any special treatment or intervention. But he feels like his insides have been scooped out and replaced with lead and cement and he’s tired. He barely has enough left in him to keep himself upright.

He slowly picks up the container and gets up to leave. Bobby calls his name as he gets to the top of the stairs.

“We’re here for you,” he says. “You’ve been through too much to be handling this on your own. Just let us know how we can help.”

I would if I could, but I don’t even know where to start.

He just nods, hopes his face looks some degree of reassuring, and heads to the locker room.

~~~~~~~~~~

The way Chris’ face lights up when he sees Eddie waiting for him in the front office is enough to thaw the ice in his chest for a minute. He can hear the exact octave his mother’s voice would reach if she heard about him pulling Chris out of school for “no good reason”, but he also could not give less of a shit.

He feels a little bit more like a person with Chris in the backseat. That’s a good enough reason for him.

They set up camp in the park near their house, Bobby’s food and extra snacks Eddie picked up spread out between them, and Chris fills Eddie in on all the things he missed while he was working. He tries to focus on everything — Chris’ excitement about his upcoming science fair, the Sour Patch Watermelon sugar stuck to the tip of his nose, the way his hands move with his words. Eddie feels better, more settled, just getting to bask in the sun and in Chris like this, but he still feels heavy, like every move he makes has him fighting against gravity, threatening to pull him into the dirt.

There’s a crack from the playground in front of them, and Eddie’s blood turns to ice. He’s halfway to standing before he sees it’s just some kids snapping sticks in half to build some kind of log cabin. He lets out a slow breath as he sits back down and wills his heartbeat back to normal.

Chris is staring at him, eyes intense and brow furrowed, very similar to someone else they know.

Shit.

As soon as he’s settled, Chris moves to sit in the criss-cross of his legs. He’s a little too on the lanky side for this anymore, but Eddie’s absolutely not going to complain. Chris twists until he’s looking Eddie in the eye. Eddie does his best not to look away.

Chris rests a hand on his cheek. “It’s okay if you’re feeling bad,” he says. “You can talk to me about it, if you want.”

The crack comes from Eddie’s own heart this time. His kid has been through so much in 10 short years, and it’s only made him wiser than he should be, compassionate and understanding and open, ready to be there for anyone without a second thought. He’s good in every sense of the word, and Eddie’s in awe of the fact that he, somehow, has something to do with that. And the last thing he wants to do is lie to his son, but he just...can’t. Talk about it. Not now. Not yet. Not in a way that will keep Chris this good.

He has no way of articulating all that, so he just wraps his arms around Chris’ middle and squeezes him close.

“I know, buddy. Thank you. I’ll be okay, and we’ll talk soon.”

It’s not a lie, but it’s not everything.

It seems to be enough for Chris, though. He nods and pats Eddie’s face before reaching into his backpack and pulling out a library book. “Well, I’m gonna read to you until you feel better, just like you do for me.”

It’s the first real smile Eddie’s cracked in months. He kisses the top of Chris’ head, settling his chin there as Chris leans back into his chest.

“Sounds like a good plan to me.”

They sit there for a while longer, Chris reads to him about Percy and Annabeth and Grover, and Eddie, inexplicably, feels a little bit lighter.

~~~~~~~~~~

Buck’s Jeep is parked outside when they get home, and Chris practically breaks down the door to greet him. It looks like he’s gone all out, too — Chinese food on the table, the promise of cookies and cream ice cream in the fridge, and a list of movies that Chris ecstatically agrees with as Buck lists them off. Chris hurries off to change and clean up for dinner, and Eddie moves to start opening plastic lids and cardboard containers.

“You didn’t have to go to all this trouble,” he says. He leaves out just having you with us is enough.

Buck waves him off. “Anything for you two.”

He could leave it at that, keep up the comfortable silence as they move around the kitchen in tandem, but there’s a nagging memory that he has to ask about or he’ll never stop thinking about it.

“Didn’t you have a date with Taylor tonight?”

Buck tenses ever so slightly, a container of dumplings shifting in his hand. “Cancelled,” he says with a shrug.

Eddie knows there’s more, but Chris comes back before he can ask, and it doesn’t feel like a conversation they can have in front of a 10 year old. So they eat, and fall into the familiar banter between the three of them, and for half an hour, Eddie can be present. He can forget the last six months and the weight still hanging off of him and live in this moment, with the two most important people in his life, and pretend that this is all there is. Just these two and their joy and warmth that wraps around him tight enough to make him feel alive again, if only for a little while.

Two bowls of ice cream and one and a half movies later, Chris is dead to the world. Buck carries him to bed and Eddie tries to ignore the new ache that’s sprung up of the course of the evening, the one that wants and pulls towards Buck like a magnet. The one that almost purrs when Buck settles back on the couch so close they’re touching from ankle to (good) shoulder, contentedness washing over the living room as they find a rerun of The Shawshank Redemption playing on cable. It’s not perfect, there’s still a roiling in his blood that won’t seem to leave him alone, but he feels better than he has in God knows when.

Buck shifts closer to Eddie, eyes glowing in the light of the TV, and Eddie never wants him to leave. “Thanks for coming tonight. I— Chris and I both really needed this, I think.”

“I told you, anything for you two. Always.”

He ignores the way his stomach flips and tries to focus on the movie. He gets about five minutes of peace before another thought comes back, still nagging him, mixing with his anxiety enough to actually force him to say something.

He aims for cool and casual. “So, you and Taylor...everything okay?”

Buck gives him a very long, almost challenging look before turning off the TV. Seems he missed that casual mark. “I should be asking you the same thing.” “Very funny.”

“I’m not trying to be. I’m really worried about you, Eds.”

“This isn’t my first time getting shot, I know how to handle it.” He doesn’t mean for it to come out as bitter as it does, but he can’t bring himself to care, either. He doesn’t have the energy to keep a filter up anymore.

“Eddie, I’m serious.”

“I’m fine, Buck,” he says sharply, and he’s surprised his teeth haven’t fallen out of his head yet with how hard he’s lying through them. He hates that he’s lying to Buck at all, but those smiles he’s gotten used to have been fewer and farther between recently, and he knows it’s his fault. He might feel like his own seams are coming apart, but he’ll be damned if he rips Buck open too, even if it means pushing him away from his mess. “You’ve got a life and a girlfriend to worry about, I’ll figure everything out on my own.”

“I don’t.”

“What?”

“I don’t have a girlfriend. We broke up.”

Eddie pauses, curses the faint hope that sparks in his chest. “Why?”

“Because I’ve been a little distracted by someone else for the past few months. It didn’t feel fair to her to keep it going.”

He gives him another long look, and Eddie might be a little dense when it comes to things like this, but that look breaks through loud and clear. This is it. This is real. This is everything he’s wanted for the past six months — and probably longer than that — but now that it’s happening, it doesn’t feel right. Buck was happy, free, finally settled into his own skin, and it’s all gone now because of Eddie and his stupid, broken everything. He knows he won’t be able to give Buck everything he needs, at least right now, but Buck needs to know that too. “Buck—”

“Nope,” he says with a firm shake of his head. “I know you’re gonna try and blame yourself for this somehow, but…don’t. It was bound to happen anyway. Because you’re right, I do have a life, but it’s you two. You and Chris. That’s all I need it to be. That’s all I want it to be. And I hate that it took so long for me to figure out, that it took you getting shot, but we’re here now.” His eyes shutter a bit as he looks down at his hands. “At least, I hope we are.”

And there it is. So simple, so easy, for Buck to admit this huge thing that Eddie thought he was dancing around on his own. The ease reminds Eddie, through his fog of sadness and anger and every other bleak feeling that’s been controlling him, that that’s what makes them work so well together. Honesty. Being able to show all their ugly, mismatched inside parts to each other and still find the beauty, the ways to help, the ways to hold each other together when they need it the most.

And Eddie doesn’t think he’s ever needed to be held together more than he does right now.

“Ask me,” he whispers, the sound seeming to echo around the room.

“Ask you what?”

“Ask me if I’m okay.”

Buck shuffles on the couch until they’re facing each other, takes both of Eddie’s hands in his.

“Eddie,” he says softly, “are you okay?”

The world blurs as the tears he’s been fighting finally break free, but he feels strong. Brave. Like he can do anything now that Buck’s holding his hand.

“No,” he says, a crack in his voice but the conviction behind it still firm. “No, I’m not okay.”

The floodgates open, and he lets everything wash over him, all the things he’s been holding back, forcing away in the hopes that they’d just disappear one day. He’s floating and sinking and lost in the waves of it all, but strong arms wrap around him and pull him close, and there’s relief. Not a lot, not enough, but it’s there, for the first time since he woke up in the hospital. He feels safe here, with Buck wiping away his tears and pressing kisses along his hairline. He honestly forgot what safety felt like, was sure he’d never feel anything like it again. But he knew it that day he was bleeding out on the street, and he knows it now — it feels like Buck’s sweatshirt and smells like his aftershave and sounds like whispers of it’s okay and I’ve got you.

It all subsides, eventually, but Buck still holds him close, presses their foreheads together so there’s nothing else Eddie can focus on. His eyes are piercing, bright like Eddie only usually sees when Buck has a plan that refuses to be derailed.

“Let me help, Eddie,” he says, punctuated with a kiss on Eddie’s cheek. “I know you think you can do this yourself, but you don’t have to. I don’t want you to. Let me help you carry it.”

His voice left with the rush of everything, so all Eddie can do is nod before sinking back into Buck, into relief. Even that simple motion, the silent acknowledgement that he’s not alone anymore, is enough to let small seeds of hope sink into him and take root. They’re still weak, still unfamiliar, but they’re here, waiting to grow.

And Eddie knows, with a certainty that he forgot he was capable of, that Buck will be here to help tend to them, no matter how long it takes for them to blossom.

~~~~~~~~~~

When Eddie wakes up the next morning, he still feels weighed down. There’s still an edge, an unease low in his gut, anxiety still crawling through his veins.

He’s not okay. But he looks over and sees Buck — breathing even, arm thrown over Eddie’s stomach, keeping him close — and the ever-present darkness fades from an angry black to melancholy grey. Not perfect, not even close, but better.

He’s not okay. He hasn’t been for a while. But now, finally, he feels like he will be.

#eddie diaz #evan buckley #buddie #911 fox #buddie fic #911 fic #tim i know you read fanfic you can HAVE this one so we can get a recovery arc #i don't even need credit just DO IT #ficcery

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witchlyboo · 3 years

Text

Definitely, maybe.

Part five: The one who belongs to someone else.

Introduction. Part one. Part two. Part three. Part four.

Paring: Latina!reader x Logan Lerman x Tom Holland x Ben Hardy x Timothee Chalamet x Pedro Pascal x Michael B. Jordan

Warnings: Swearing, angst, misspellings, some Spanish, me learning how to write properly, and NY stuff that I've learned from movies that we all agree to pretend are real.

Word count: 6.4 k

a/n: You been asking for smut, I know, I know, I just wanted to introduce you to all the boys first, and we're getting there, just one more ahead. Also, I'm working on a masterlist because we are getting too many parts already.

All body types and skin tones friendly. You can also enjoy it as a no Hispanic reader. Constructive feedback and misspellings correction is always welcome.

Red and blue lights flash the driving mirror.

—No, no, no, por favor que no sea a mi—You beg to the sky looking at the patrol that is asking you to park, or someone else, there's a lot of cars in this part of the city, there's a big chance is the panic who's controlling your senses.—Dios, mi abuela fue a la iglesia cada domingo de su vida y nunca te pidió nada, please let me have some of her divina recompensa.—But that's not how it works, you end up parking with just a few seconds to think what to say. There's a perfect explication of why you are driving a car that is not yours in the middle of the night and smelling like a minibar.

Then this ridiculous thought comes to your mind, you look expensive, you've never seen the daughter of a senator but you must be close to it, it would make you less of a feminist if you just use your attributes? Ugh, you feel sick just to think about it but don't have enough money to pay a fine, and the constant paranoia of being chased all the time as an immigrant will only get stronger.

You pull down your dress a little so your neckline can do its job but you regret it immediately, and you're pretty sure you look more like an expensive prostitute who stole the car of his lover than some influential men's daughter.

—License and registration.—You hear him say when he approaches your window. You don't like this but you have to play the dumb tourist, the pretty foreign girl that is too stupid to be dangerous, with the look you have tonight it shouldn't be hard. But damn you hate cops, any uniformed man that works for the government is your eternal enemy, and you don't know how long you could keep the nice dumb Latina game before spit on his face.

—There's something wrong, officer? ...You?!—Your sexy and fake high voice is ruined when you see the face of the man who stopped you. This night couldn't get worse.

—Wait, what happened with the party?—Evan interrupts you while you finish some notes for work, little remainders for later when you don't have an eleven years old kid running around you, he's not usually this energic and you have to blame yourself for that, you're describing a life of excess and eccentric fun, something you let behind so many years ago that your own son doesn't know even a bit of it.

—Ugh, a nightmare doesn't worth telling.—You remember vaguely most of it but what keeps fresh in your mind is bad enough to don't want to bring it back.

—But if Timothée is my dad I have to know the important things, including the bad stuff.—Sounds perfectly reasonable and that's what makes you groan at him. Sometimes you feel blessed that your kid is better than you in any possible way, and sometimes you want to kill his brain with video games and reality shows like the rest of the parents.

—Ok, cool, but I'll keep all the +18 content for myself, so this part of the story might be blurry for you.—It kinda is for you anyway.

You should’ve known this night was cursed, you had a feeling because a) your earring fell off at the same time Timothée texted you to give you the party address and say he can't pick you up. And b) he won’t pick you up. Your mother would say that’s reason enough to not go, a real gentleman wouldn’t make you go to an unknown place in the middle of the night on your own in a city like this. But you decide to ignore it because you are a modern woman and because it’s worth it. It better be.

The outfit must be something special. You always take your time to choose what to wear, even if just another regular day, and since this isn't the case you thought about it for hours, that made your mind busy enough to not thinking about Tom and the whole love confession. He texted you saying he'll come for you to go to class together on Monday, which is completely impractical because he's way closer than you but is progress and you're going to take it.

You wanted to ask for Sheep's opinion but you thought she might not care, has been a few days since she started acting strange like she's bothered just to see you breathe. You want to blame his boyfriend to take all her time and attention from you but is probably just her new job, she got a small role in a Netflix show, and even when you're so happy for her, that's the event that has changed her into someone completely different. But you give her time, stress can do bad things to people.

The winner is the exact copy you made of the black and white striped dress Cameron Diaz wore in "The Mask" beautiful, classy, and sexy enough without being too scandalous, not that you have any problem with that, but this isn't the occasion, you don't want to feel like you're being too much or too little, just enough, it's supposed to be easy, right? you were born for this. Just adding some big shiny earrings you got on a thrift shop that look like real diamonds and you're ready, not that you own any to compare. Red lipstick, dark eyes, and a messy bun to get that disinterested pitch every look needs.

Getting there wasn't a problem, you were in the rich part of the city, everyone know who, where and what just to brag about it. The excitement is growing with every second, you check your makeup like thirty times in the elevator and send texts to your mom just to let her know where you are, and because you have to share that moment with someone and you are limited of friends these days.

Timothée opens the door with red eyes, drunk, high, or somewhere in between, you know then you were right about the bad feeling. He jumps on you to kiss you and no matter how much you try to explain the delicacy of your lipstick, he does it anyway, leaving a taste of alcohol and shrimps in your mouth. Taking you by the waist he walks you to a group of people you don't know while you're trying harder to fix the red color of your mouth without a mirror.

—Here is the companion I bought, look at her, that's how five grand per hour look like.—They laughed but you were too disoriented to process all the things he said, it was supposed to be a joke? if it is, why isn't he correcting? Instead, his hand goes straight to your ass and presses it to get you closer to him.

—I'm actually an intern in the costume designer department of the new version of "Sense and Sensibility".—You wanted to mention your recent promotion to hairstylist and makeup artist but that might be too pretentious. Anyway, they don't seem to care what you are or not, in fact, they don't even see you, all eyes are on Timothée

—Oh, well, is easy to forget when you're paying them—All laughs again. Who is this person? Who are all these people, actually? You recognize some influencers, a few cast members but there's no sign of the director, other main actors, not even his co-star. You feel like an extra in a movie where someone will be killed in a luxury party, hopefully not you. You take his hand from your body and clear your throat.—I'm just joking my love, she looks stunning, isn't she? I’ll get you a drink.

He leaves and the group of people surrounding you suddenly dissipated like boiling water, you were on your own again and despite some judgmental gazes is like you’re not there, you’re sure you could just take your dress off and throw it to someone’s face and unless Tim says something about it, no one would care. You’re there as his companion, an ornament, and that’s not enough to earn their attention because it’s too obvious you’re the one in turn.

You walk to the only window no one is smoking and check your phone, you know, the thing you do when you pretend you have important issues to attend, but no, you end reading some old messages, pictures, texting your mom of how much fun you’re having at the party, and somehow you check your filed Facebook messages to find Logan’s name. You cover the screen so fast you hurt your nail, his name is enough to make you tremble like a Chihuahua, you haven’t talked to him since that night, you know from his sister he lives in the house he bought for you two and he’s having the happiest life without you. You want to believe that because that means you took the right decision but deep inside… no, you can’t be that person, you want him to be happier than ever.

You find the guts to open the message, and you read as slowly as is humanly possible. “My angel, I hope this finds you in perfect health…” Dios, just Logan could start a message like that, your smile is almost too big to fit in your face so you bit your nail to cover it a little. “I recently found one of the human body drawings you made for me to study, you’ll be happy to know…”

—That’s a fucking long-ass message.—Tim appears behind you and takes your phone from your hand, spilling some of his drink on your dress in the process. Apparently, he's been there long enough to read part of the message.

—Give it back.—You command in the most severe voice you have, your magical moment got ruined and you remember the hole of hell you are.

—"My angel, I hope this finds you in perfect health. I recently found one of the human body drawings you made for me to study, you must know I still use them now and then"—Timothée starts reading the message, and even when no one is close enough to hear it and you don’t really care about this people’s opinion, that’s not for anyone to read, that’s one of the few parts of your life you treasure the most and you’re not ready to get over it.—You little slut, are you cheating on me with a med student?

—Give it to me.—You repeat trying to take the phone from his hand but he’s faster and walks away putting it out of your reach.

—"I meticulously preserve them, I certainly know any piece of art made by you will be priceless in the near future"—You don’t want to hear it coming from his drunk mocking voice, so you try to ignore what he’s saying and put more effort on chasing the phone.—Should I had kept the jeans where you left the wet spot on? I didn’t know you were an artist, my love.

—Timothée, por el amor de Dios.—Now you're trying to climb him, it wouldn't be that hard to take him down, he's skinny and you're fierce. That's what you thought but he's not moving even with you are on top of his shoulder and his opposite long arm keeps the phone away from you.

—Who is this guy and why is he talking to my girl like this?—You see the olive eyes getting darker and the tone of his voice went deeper than you thought he could do. You desist from taking the phone, you know the bullies love the attention, maybe that's exactly what he wants and give it to him just makes it worse.

—I'm not your girl.—You claim fixing up your dress having enough of games, and you have no reason to keep worrying about losing your job, the filming is done, and apparently your relationship with him too. You don't care about any of that anymore, just want to read Logan's text.

Even behind all the alcohol and the eyes injected in blood thanks for who knows what kind of drug, you can see the disappointment and anger, but it's not a broken heart, Is the hissy fit of a child that loses his balloon and now everyone will pay for it, especially you.

—Are you sure about that?—You can see him swallow hard, almost looking vulnerable, but his voice is defiant and threatening to prove you wrong. He just has to stretch out his arm to reach the open window with your phone in hand, his intentions are clear and the only thing you can do is raise your hands as a reflex.—You were mine the moment you put a foot on my trailer, and I don't fucking share my stuff.—Before you can say a word he drops the phone from the fourth floor.

You know is senseless but you find yourself running out of the party and going to search the device, using it also as an excuse to get away from that place. This is the first time someone makes you feel meaningless, you know the famous' world is cold and lacking in empathy but this is ridiculous, they're a bunch of parasites fed by attention and power. By Timothée.

The screen is crashed and the rest of it is probably beyond repair, not that you're surprised, its life is longer than you've been in the country and you admit you should have replaced it much earlier but you're not the kind to throw away things that still work. However, is not the phone you are worried about, not as much as what it contains.

—That was obsolete anyway, I'll get you a better one.—You didn't know he was following you, his voice interrupts your self-wailing. He sounds calmer and a little embarrassed, but not enough to say sorry, you don't think he's capable of saying it.

You shake your head and start to walk away without a word, you don't want anything from him, not materially, at least.

—Don't make a scandal out of it, it's just a phone!—He yells erasing any trace of regret in his voice. He doesn't see the reaction he expected and that's when he runs after you and with a hand on your upper arm pulls you back, you gasped for the sudden bluntness.—That annoying habit you have of leaving when I'm talking to you.

You push him away with all the strength you have, which resulted in him almost falling on the ground.

—I don't care about the stupid phone!—You finally break, but sadly is not as satisfactory as you thought it would be.—You are mean, vain, arrogant and the worst part is that you enjoy being this despicable human because you have absolutely no consequences to it. Everyone around you just accepts it and I feel so sorry for you because the only possible way for you to fill the void inside is to be surrounded by that crowd of mules licking your steps—To your surprise, he has nothing to say, he's just standing there with no facial expression, whatever he feels is easily covered by his years of experience acting, even drunk.—I can't give you that and it's obvious they don't want me either. What am I even doing here?—You ask yourself thinking where would be the best way of getting a cab, is a rich zone, must be easy.

—Everything is better when you're around—His voice is thin and fragile, you have to process what he said three times in your head to understand his words. You're not willing to look at him yet.—You're not like the others.

—Pure bullshit. You love to repeat that misogynist discourse of girls being in a certain way because is easier than be responsible for the people you choose to be—You were hugging yourself the whole time, is a cold night, but not enough to be bothersome, you enjoy Fall weather—You got me for a moment, I give you that, you fooled me but I'm too tired of guessing what version of you is real—When you return your gaze at him, he doesn't try to hide the guilt anymore, but there's still haughtiness in there.—Now, if you don't mind Mr. Chalamet, I need to get a cab.

—No, you came with me, you leave with me.—There's no trace of alcohol in his voice anymore, a good scolding is enough to put you sober, you know that thanks to your mom. Oh god, you're becoming her.

—You didn't bring me here, gigantic head—You look at him and put your hand in front of him with the palm up. He stares at it for several seconds before put his own on it—Not that!—You shake it and start looking inside his jeans pockets until you feel the metal of his key car.—You can't drive and I have to get home. You'll find it in the studio tomorrow.

That's how you ended with a car way more luxurious than you expected, driving so slowly and carefully that the police stopped you. What a night, but at this point, you couldn't care less about anything that is not that message, is been months and you can't get over it, over him. Not even Ben moans, Tom's comforting arms, or fight with a movie star at 3:00 am. is enough to get him out of your mind.

—So is true, you don't wear anything that hasn't appeared in a movie, huh?—Michael B. Jordan is leaning on the car window with a mocking smile and a sparkle of satisfaction that you would love to punch but his uniform keeps you in line, where you come from police is not equal to justice, most of the times is oppression.

—You know where it's from?—That was kind of comforting, no one at the party noticed. Not that you care.

—Is The Mask, not some Adam Hitchcock's blurb.—He smiles and even when you really don't like him, it's nice to be with a familiar face, you are really tired of running away, scaping for problems that are a result of your null capacity to deal with emotions. Ugh, what a word.

—Is Alfred Hitchcock, actually.—You didn't want to sound priggish, but you correct him with no time to stop yourself, an old habit.

—You got me, smarty, you know more than movies than me. Where did you get this car?—You feel really nervous even when you got this legally, you have your documents and license on time and he's being nice enough to not want to run away in a car that you technically borrowed for yourself.

—It's not mine.—No shit, Sherlock.

—No shit, Sherlock, I was asking where did you steal it.—You wanted to laugh but there's something with the uniform that just doesn't allow you to be yourself.—Are you drunk?

—No, no, fuck, no, it's just, I don't feel comfortable with cops—He raises his eyebrows but that is his only reaction.—Listen, is my boss' car, I'm doing the favor to take it to the studio, and I'm really nervous because is fucking expensive, he's an asshole, I haven't drive un almost a year because you people only use cars if you're rich or your work and lives depend on it. I'm starving.—The last part came out of nowhere, you haven't eaten anything in almost 13 hours, maybe that's the actual reason why you are that moody.

He doesn't answer right away, takes his time to look at you, what makes you blush, he's really close, closer than he's ever been. Does he smell like green apples? Not the actual apples, the artificial smell they had given to them.

—Get out of the car.—Oh no, is he arresting you? Is he finally taking revenge for every time you make fun of his Hawaiian-type shirts? You know you have too much karma accumulated and a cop making you pay for it when you don’t believe in their sense of justice is kinda poetic, and evil.

You don’t want to discuss with someone with a taser, gun, pepper spray, or who knows what else. So you take your bag, the key car, and get off defeated.

—My turn is almost over, I’ll take you to eat something, c’mon.—He walks back to his patrol and you stay still for a few seconds still processing his words, you must look totally devastated for him to offer that. How you see it you have two options, go with him and spend an awkward hour with a person you don’t like or risk getting a fine, Tim can pay it, it’s not a big deal but you don’t want to owe him even the minimal thing.

You get in the car holding on to your bag to feel calmer, this is the first time you’re fully alone with him since you found him half-naked in your kitchen. Those defined abs may never leave your brain.

—Are you cold?—He interrupts your thoughts with his question, you didn’t notice you were shaking. He looks for something under his seat and gives you an NYPD hoodie, you hold it doubting your next move, is not like you don’t appreciate the gesture but it’d be easier to take if it doesn’t get that words printed—Is clean.—He says chuckling when he sees the way you’re looking at it.

—Is not that, just, you know, fuck the police, defund the NYPD, demilitarize the pigs and that stuff.—You say putting on the hoodie anyway, is a cold night and you won't help the institution wearing their propaganda.

—Yeah, I get it, but you can't change the system just from within.—You decide is not the right moment to have a political conversation so you shrug your shoulders and discreetly smell the hoodie, a mix of cologne, green apples, and cheap soap, you know is cheap because you buy the exact same, do its job.

—I'm in the mood for pizza.—You say casually, making a deal to yourself to try to be his friend, he is a small part of your life anyway.—Domino's is open at this time of the night?

—Tell me you're not consuming that shit, dear Lord, you been here for how long, two years? I can't believe your idea of a good pizza is Domino's. Stella hasn't taught you anything?—You're surprised by the level of condescension with a pizza and you mirror his smile, suddenly feeling embarrassed. Your school program includes people from all around the world so you don't have that much experience with actual new yorkers. Logan is rich, so he doesn't really count.

—What's wrong with Domino's? I don't buy much street food, is cheaper to buy things on the food market. Besides, all pizza is good.—The mention of Sheep makes you a little tense, so you don't say anything about it, is not a conversation to have with him.

—Don't blaspheme in the patrol, I just washed it—You laugh, finally, after a terrible weekend. You can see why she likes him, there is something about his voice, smile, and his eyes that feel... calm, like watching Friends after a marathon of Lord of the Rings.—There are rules to survive this city, and I'm surprised you have made it this far without a proper guide.

—Chill out Mr. Miyagi, I'm not from the jungle, and I've learned a lot by myself.—He gives you a lopsided grin as a request, and you put your fingers up ready to enlist your acquired knowledge.—Walk fast, like you're about to be stabbed, something that actually happened to me, with an umbrella—He nods and laughs being related to it.—Number two, no small talk, no one cares, even if they ask. Number three, if you look a stranger in the eye, especially a homeless person, you have essentially invited them to approach you.

—Number four, we never eat from Domino's, Papa John's, Pizza hut, or any other chain restaurant, only trucks and local places are allowed.—You roll your eyes but you get the point, is just, again, you're not much into street food, it doesn't taste like home and the only way to eat food like that is preparing it yourself.

—Fine, fuck capitalism, let's support local places—You make an obvious fake enthusiastic tone but he nods proudly.—Number five, you don't need a car to live here, not even know how to drive. I would have successfully avoided this police brutality if I had followed that rule.

—For someone who is about to eat for free, you whine too much.—He parks the car and gives you a sign to go with him. You see him go to a pizza truck and order, you realize at the moment how ridiculous you look, so before chasing him you let your hair down, take your huge earrings off, and roll up the skirt of your dress until your mid-thighs letting the hoodie cover the rest, and clean the red lipstick with a Kleenex from your bag. Now you look more like a college person and not a rich girl who just got seized.

—Here you go.—He says giving you a slice as big as your head, looks oily and spreading cheese everywhere. Perfect.

—Is it vegan?—You ask receiving the food with an obnoxious face. His kind grind turned into a dread expression and you give him your second laugh of the day.—I'm kidding.

You are about to give it a bite when you see passing next to you a huge rat with the exact same slice as yours in its mouth, running into the dark of the night happy to have obtained the food for its family. They use to scare you when you just moved out but now they're like any other pigeon in the sky.

—Rule... whatever, a rat with a slice of pizza is a symbol for good luck, congratulations.—He pets your head awkwardly, not sure if you're ok with the physical contact, which, surprisingly, you are.

—I see rats with bagels all the time.—Pizza and bagels, that's the main culinary wonders of the city, you like it, not much to object but is hard not to compare it with your home's food.

—Is easy to confuse a rough diamond with a simple rock.—You both eat in silence, enjoying the mixed sounds of the city and all the different smells, the whole situation feels like one of those lofi music videos. You remember thinking about moments like this before getting the scholarship, what would it be like to feel normal in the city of your dreams.

—How do you know that much about movies?—He asks after a few minutes when you take a break to drink something, that pizza is not easy to take.

—When I was a kid a spent much time on my own, so my dad bought me a used DVD reproducer, and at the corner of my neighborhood was this movie store where you could buy 5 pirate movies for one dollar. They were blurred, with a terrible sound, and most of the time with the wrong movie inside but they helped me to not feel lonely. Eventually, the store closed but I've watched everything in it by then—He gives you a warm smile, you never told that story to anyone, not because is too intimate to share, but because no one asked, it doesn't sound like a question with a complex answer.—Anyway, I watched Marie Antoinette when I was like eight, and I decided at that moment that however is done I wanted to be part of that magic.

—You hear all kind of people chasing dreams in this city but is hard to find someone who actually deserves it.—You blush and you cover it with your hair but the smile on your voice is impossible to hide.

—Is that a compliment? You must really want me to like you to date Sheep.—You laugh but you can see his face tense, so you can guess your friend has been busy breaking everyone’s hearts.

—She hasn’t returned my calls in three days so I don’t think there’s much you can do—You nod, all this time you thought he was the reason she is ignoring you but apparently you are both in the same boat.—But yeah, I don’t know what I was thinking, what I should have said is, Marie Antoinette at eight? I can see where all the damage started.

You gasp and throw your napkin at his head, he easily catches it without even looking at it and laughs; that was unexpectedly attractive.

—Why a cop?—You ask, not sure where that question came from, maybe you authentically want to know more about him, he just bought you food, and honestly, that's the easiest way to win your trust.

—I wanted to be an actor when I was a child. This is the city of opportunities so you may think that if you want to chase the big wonder, this is the perfect place to do it. But I grow up surrounded by these people giving their entire lives to get something just given to one in a million so I decided is not worth it. For many years I wondered what I wanted to do with my life and the answer was really clear, my dad was a cop, a good one, or that’s what people say. I don’t remember much because he died when I was seven—Conversations about death are not your strength, everything can turn out uncomfortable if you choose the wrong words.—It might not be that glamorous but if my father died for it, it surely worth it.

—For the good ones.—You raise your almost empty can of Coke and he does the same with a grin that warms the cold weather of the night.

—For the good ones.

The next two hours passed like minutes talking about anything and everything. It just felt right to talk freely with him, you didn’t feel judged for your awkward family moments or your random thoughts, not even once because he told you his too. At some point of the night he borrowed you his gym sweatpants, any of you could just suggest going home but that was off the table, end that peace just for weather reasons would have been a tragedy.

—I read Timothée Chalamet is a dick. Is that true?—The mention of his name remains you of your life and everything that comes with it, including the middle semester project that you must dedicate your entire day, one that is about to start.—What, you can’t talk about it?

—He is a complete dick with no sense of privacy or human decency—And when he interrupts a deep kiss to look at your eyes, smile, and caress your chin, you feel like a character of his Victorian movies. But he didn’t ask that.—But the next week he’ll be no longer my problem.

—That’s why we have rule twenty-three, don’t ask for a picture of a celebrity unless they are local—You have heard about it before but you haven’t got the opportunity to decide if you like that rule because the only celebrities you have seen are from work and that club’s party opening.—That means you’ll be free to go to the Stephen Kings’ movie projection there will be for Halloween.

You don’t know if that was a proposition, a suggestion, or just a simple recommendation, and whatever it is, you noticed he was nervous to ask. Is it wrong? It feels wrong like you were betraying your friend accepting to hang out with his boyfriend without her consent. But he didn’t ask you to go with him so is safe to answer.

—Yeah, I guess—You get a moment, four seconds top, where you shared innocent, curious, and tenting gazes like three graders in the playground. And that’s the further you will allow yourself to go.—We better leave, if the sunlight touch me I’ll turn into dust.

You get off the car hood and go to the side door, but this time he opens it for you. You give him a “seriously?” Look, receiving a little push in your arm as a response.

↬☀︎︎

A distant voice asks you to wake up, softly whispers that turn into caresses on your cheek, your eyes feel so heavy, even when you are well aware of your environment your eyelids keep closed.

—Good morning, Princess—This is the first time Tom calls you that way, the change from silly nicknames to Princess is enough to get you out of hibernation. He is squatting beside your bed, his smile is the promise of a better day, and chasing that idea you give him one small back.—Your mom has been texting me desperately all day, she said you're not answering her calls and is worried.

—Fuck, my phone broke last night, can I call her from yours?—That’s an oversimplification but in the search for a better story, that's what you decide to believe and tell. Tom nods and gives it to you, he looks happy, beyond that, this is the first time you see that subtle blush on his cheeks and the eyes sparkling. You sit on the bed next to his body looking for your mom's number, slowly he moves between your legs, you have shorts and an oversized Back To The Future t-shirt, you got took the time to prepare yourself to bed last night and keep Michael’s clothes inside your closet to wash them, like The Tell-Tale Heart, a little innocent secret who feels dirty somehow

The conversations with your mom are always long, nostalgic and the tears are hard to hold for both parts; after a long life sharing almost every day with her, her absence never feels smaller. But this time is different, Tom is exploring the bare skin under your knee with his warm hands, asking for permission with curious eyes, and when you don’t object to the touch the British boy keeps his exploring mission cautiously, giving special attention to see your eyes in case something change. Is time to hang up when he gives a long and loving kiss to your knee, the less erotic kiss you could think of but so intimate to bristle your skin.

—Not nice to touch someone's daughter when is talking to her mom.—The protest of your voice loses strength at every word, he heard that and just straight his back to reach your face, the gap is almost extinct.

—We're okay, she likes me.—He assures holding your hips and pulling you a bit to him. Tom looks very comfortable with the new closeness authorization, you like it but are not very sure about it yet, most of you still think of him as your best friend.

—Did she tell you that? Are you talking with my mom behind my back?—You laugh when he does, almost like nothing changed.

—She adores me, I swear, I'm invited to Christmas, you know?—You're not surprised, she invites everyone, Logan was too but the first time he got family plans and didn't make it to the second.

—You should go, maybe we can do...—His lips touch yours in a peak at the middle phrase and makes you forget what you were about to say.—Man, the audacity to interrupt...—Then he kisses you again, deeply, using his tongue to taste your inner lip and his hands holding your shirt in fists. That's a twist of events.

—Is that ok?—You hear a weak whisper coming out of his voice but you got so mesmerized on his lips that decided to ignore it and kiss him back instead. He responds to your touch and starts to lean over you to make you lay on the bed.

Jesucristo bendito, is this happening? like, actually happening? you must look like trash, you barely took all the makeup from the night before and didn't take a shower, you start to get so worried about smells, feelings, and what that'll mean to your already too much-spoiled friendship.

However, the time of doubts is done when Sheep starts yelling in the living room, you both reacted running to the sound and looking for your blonde friend. Michael is there but doesn't look like the same as a few hours ago, is annoyed and tired for the lack of sleep, a look that doesn't match him at all.—What did you do?—You ask him fast assuming she's mad for something he did.

—Just in time, the star of the movie, I was wondering how much it will take you to be the protagonist of this.—That is Sheep's voice talking about you and what must be your heart breaking from her words.

—Excuse me?—You wish your tone would be less savage but you can't help respond the same way she did.

—Logan wasn't enough, then you got the drummer, fucking Timothée Chalamet, Tom and now my boyfriend. I'm so glad I didn't leave you alone with my dad or I'd be calling you mom now.—You have no words to that, Michael doesn't even dare to look at you, he must have told her something she misunderstood, but Sheep, or well, Stella is saying things she actually thinks and keep to herself. Tom walks in front of you whispering things to her to calm her down but she is not looking at him, you didn't tell her anything about Tom either so he's taking responsibility this time.—Go ahead and fuck the whole city, Michael if that please you but you're crossing the line with Tom and you know that, you're going to ruin him as you ruin every man that enters in your life.—She has a very you moment having the last word of the dispute and getting out of the apartment with Michael going after her but not putting much effort in it.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Taglist:

@eridanuswave @cjand10 @deluxeplanteater @rorodendra @navs-bhat @coxxxxxpi @leviosatothestars

Thanks for all the love and support, if you have opinions, suggestions, or want to be part of the tag list (Or don’t want to be part anymore) let me know, I appreciate every message.

#ben hardy imagine #michael b jordan fc #tom holland x reader #timothee chalamet fanfiction #pedro pascal #logan lerman fc #definitely maybe #fluff #angst #timothee chalamet #Tom Holland #Ben Hardy

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storm-and-starlight · 3 years

Note

zip me 👀

So uh. I know this probably isn't at all what you wanted, but I got hit by the opening scene and couldn't let it go, and, there is a "zip me" in the fic, after all. Feel free to send in another ask if you still want the original prompt, though!

"Gods, that's creepy," the voice says in Geralt's ear, "zip me back up right now."

The thin wires disengage from the young man's temples, retracting back underneath Geralt's nails, and in deference to the 'ghost's wishes, he tugs the black plastic zipper on the black plastic bodybag back up until the bloodless face of one Julian Alfred Pankratz, died age twenty-three, disappears behind anti-rot polymer.

"So I'm dead, then," says the dataghost, and Geralt turns to look at where the programming in his head that supports the construct has placed him, leaning over Geralt's shoulder and looking down at the shapeless form of the body in the bag.

"Hm," and he walks away, into clear space. The cops know who he is, what his kind are capable of, but it's still... unsettling, to see him talking to thin air, and he'd rather not end up getting stared at on this contract. He's got enough of a reputation already.

The 'ghost blinks. "Not much of a talker, are we?"

"No."

"Oh. So what happened?"

"You're the one who died here," Geralt says, and tries not to roll his eyes.

"Yes, I know, I just had the utterly delightful experience of staring at my own dead body, thanks, but why, exactly, am I living inside your head now?"

Geralt turns to look at him, finally. He's young, pale-skinned, brown-haired, with eyes a shade of blue just bright enough that they don't seem quite natural and the silver-gold lines of a set of implants running from the corner of his eyes to his ears, and from there down to frame his collarbones. "Your implants--"

"Yes?"

Fuck, this is going to be an annoying one. "Standard procedure. Every time someone gets an implant, they also get--"

"A mindchip in case of untimely death, yes, I was there when they made me sign the form. 'Bar death by natural causes and requested deletion' blah blah blah--"

"There's a backup," Geralt snarls, and the 'ghost falls silent. "The mindchip can't be transferred, but if someone's unconscious or--"

"Dead," the 'ghost supplies.

"Otherwise unable to respond, then the backup can be used to obtain medical consent or information."

"So this is really... me?"

"Legally."

The 'ghost sniffs. "Doesn't explain why I'm in your head."

"Because I'm the only one with the technology capable of reading it, unless you want to deal with whichever corporation gave you your implants."

The 'ghost shudders, a startlingly lifelike movement for something that's nothing more than an already-fraying neuralmap. "No, thanks."

Geralt sighs, lets his shoulders sag. He's done stuff like this before, dealing with the mindprints of the recently deceased, and it never gets any easier to handle the constant influx of new personalities, pressed up against the back of his mind and taking up far too much computing power to run the program that allows them to "interact" with the world, or at least a highly-detailed simulation of it built from Geralt's sensory input. It's done because Geralt's the only one around to talk to them, or because they have first-hand information on a killing. Usually the latter, but this seems... fairly cut-and-dry. Young kid, fresh out of university, caught in the collateral between Whoreson and Cleaver's territory fights, took a piece of shardgun shrapnel to the chest. No one really at fault, no motive, and not even really a death.

"So, uh, what, exactly, do I do now?"

"I ask you if you consent to be replaced in a new body, you say yes, the authorities take your mindchip and you get out of my head."

The 'ghost blinks. "Of... course I consent? Why the fuck wouldn't I?"

Geralt shrugs, ignoring the stares that are beginning to weight his back. A WITCHER, talking to no one in the middle of a crime scene, isn't the most reassuring of sights.

"Okay, so... so what, I just wake up and it's like I never met you?"

"The backup's memories will be downloaded into your main consciousness once the transfer's complete. You'll remember everything you said and did." Hopefully. If the neuralmap hasn't frayed so much by then that it's faded into nothingness.

"That's... good. So I just--"

There's a bip from one of Geralt's proximity sensors, warning him that there's someone approaching from behind just before he hears the tap-tap of her footsteps and smells the scent of her perfume. Shani, Novigrad PD medical examiner. They've worked together a couple times, on various cases. She seems to like him more than most of them.

They turn to her in unison, and there's a strange expression on her face even as she pulls out a holotablet, already showing the preliminary scan of Julian's body, the silver-gold shimmer of implants around his ears and throat and lungs, the red bloom of the shardgun impact, the... flashing yellow-black signal at his lower sternum, just above the wound: Warning: Mindchip Absent.

He looks at her, sharply, and she nods. "This wasn't collateral damage, Geralt. Someone put that shot there, and took the 'chip right out of the wound."

"So I'm dead?" The 'ghost says in the background, but Geralt simply rolls his eyes. Of course this had to go and happen.

"We're thinking the killer, or someone related to the killer, took it. We've got people on the job, but..."

"I'm the one with the backup," Geralt says, and sighs.

"Standard contract rates," Shani offers, and Geralt's too strapped for cash to say no. He presses his thumb to the sensor on the holotablet, feels the prickle of the carrier-wires linking up and sealing it before they retract back under his thumbnail.

"What-- what is this, what's going on," the 'ghost says in the background, and Geralt turns to look at him, ignoring the prickle of unease that Shani gives off, the way her heartbeat picks up. Afraid.

They all are.

He's used to it.

He turns to face the 'ghost, blocking out the stares of the parameds and the cops and the random streetside gawkers. "Someone took your mindchip."

"So I'm... I'm really dead? Can't you just use... whatever this is?"

"No," Geralt says, and then elaborates when the 'ghost's face only gets more confused. "The neuralmap on this isn't stable. It'll disintegrate in days. Two weeks at the most."

"Two weeks?"

"Yes. Which is why we're going to find your killer and get it back."

"We are?" The 'ghost blinks, and then his face lights up. He's... startlingly pretty like this, actually, floppy hair and too-blue eyes and the way he's smiling at Geralt like no one ever really seems to. "That's good, then! You're a... a WITCHER, you'll find him in no time!"

Geralt grunts.

"I'm Jaskier," the 'ghost declares with utter confidence, and bows shortly from the waist, an archaic and... oddly endearing movement. "And you are?"

"Geralt of Rivia." There's a space after that, time for him to close his eyes, breathe, await the disgust that will follow when his crimes are realized--

"The Butcher?" the 'ghost -- Jaskier -- says, and Geralt can feel his jaw tighten--

Jaskier laughs. "Oh, this is going to be brilliant."

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

I have no idea where this fic will go, if it goes anywhere, but the idea took me by the throat until I wrote it, so I hope y'all enjoyed!

Send me a writing prompt?

#the witcher #the witcher fic #writing #storm's writing #fic #storm's fic #ask games #cyberpunk AU

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johnsamericano · 3 years

Note

Can do a fic about dilf doyoung is your Father's friend but u have a secret relationship with him them one day he got you preggo so u moved in with him plsssss also put a lot of smut shshshhshsh pls I hope you read this.

Hi there! My requests are currently closed but I can never resist writing dilf!Doyoung so you’re lucky. There's not THAT much smut in this because I wanted to make it as realistic as possible. Hope you like it!

warnings: dirty talking, sex, language, use of the name daddy, spanking, unexpected pregnancy, age gap.

“What’s the meaning of this invitation, Mr. Kim?” You inquired, walking past the front door with a gym bag hanging from your shoulder. “It's not every day you invite me to a private swimming party.”

“Very funny.” He welcomed you with a hug, his warm, naked chest pressed against your covered one. “Jeno’s out with his friends. He won't come back until tomorrow.”

“Aw, but where's the fun in that? I wanted to be with him.” That response earned you a slap in the ass, hard enough to serve as a warning not to keep testing his patience.

“Get changed. I'll wait for you in the hot tub.”

You locked yourself in the nearest bathroom, quickly yanking off your clothes to replace them with a baby blue bikini. You knew how much he loved the matching set, not as much as taking it off you, of course.

Wanting to make him wait for a while longer, you neatly folded your clothes and placed them over your sleeping wear inside the bag you'd brought with you.

“Took you long enough.” He was sitting inside the water, his arms spread wide as he gave you a less than amused look. “Come here.”

Despite how dominant he might look on the outside, he never managed to fool you. As soon as you were between his arms, your face was guaranteed to be covered with kisses from his soft lips.

“I missed you this past few weeks.” His wet thumb traced figures over your arm, avoiding looking into your eyes. “Why haven't you visited?”

Your fingers played with the small, grey hairs covering the nape of his neck.

“It's getting harder to hide it from Jeno, and I know if he ever found out, our friendship would be over. I don't wanna lose him.”

“He’ll find out, better sooner than later.” The look on your face must've given away your thoughts. “What? Did you think this was just something casual?”

“I mean...” His jaw dropped, arms falling into the water with a splash. “Look, you have to understand me. We started right after your wife left, I thought you were using me to forget her. And I didn't mind-”

“Using you?” Just a few millimeters and his eyebrows would be touching. “Have you always thought so low of me?”

“Doyoung...”

“I want a future with you, y/n. Not just an occasional fuck but an actual relationship, and if you don't feel the same about me, then we might as well end things here.” This was the first time you'd seen him mad, with his whole face red from anger and the warmth of the jacuzzi, he looked as if he were about to explode.

“Of course I do. But it's complicated.” The red shade tinting his cheeks and ears, slowly faded. “No one would accept our relationship, for starters.”

“I couldn't care less about other’s opinions.”

In less than a second, his lips crashed against yours, hard. But there was a hint of sweetness in his wild movements, the way his hands caressed your back while his tongue worked its way inside your mouth aggressively.

“Already so eager?” He asked as your heat rubbed itself against his clothed cock. “Not here.”

“What...?”

The muscles in his legs tensed as he stood up with you still between his arms. He was strong, for a man of his age, of course.

“I’m afraid that I've been fucking you the wrong way, which might have been the reason for you to have the wrong idea about us.” Leaving a trail of water drops behind you, you climbed up the stairs leading to the second floor, where his room was located. “Scratch that. No more fucking, from now on, I'm gonna make love to you.”

“Have you always been this cheesy?” Your feet touched the floor as he removed his hands from below your thighs, slightly pushing you until the back of your knees touched the mattress.

“Don’t make me change my mind and spank that pretty ass.”

“Rude.” You let yourself fall on the fresh comforter, dragging him down with you.

“Take your clothes off for me, won't you?” He busied himself pulling down his swimming trunks while you struggled with the knot keeping your bra in place. “Such a silly, little girl. Can't do anything without her daddy, can her?”

“Please.” Even though you hated being humiliated, your core didn't seem to bother. His degrading words only caused your essence to form an even larger patch on your bikini. “Doyoung...”

“Fine.” His cock was standing proudly, his tip dripping with small beads of precum. “On your knees and turn around.”

He worked through the knots as fast as his trembling fingers allowed him to. His mouth was aching to say the special words he'd been keeping to himself for a while now, but he didn't have enough courage yet.

“Ready.” The straps fell down your arms, tickling the skin as they slid.

You took the last piece of your suit off, finally allowing your body to be consumed by the humidity of the summer evening. Doyoung was quicker to enter you than usual. No teasing, just lovemaking as he’d promised earlier.

“You’re so warm.” His lips were attached to your collarbone, sucking to leave a mark big enough for everyone to see. “Your little cunt takes me so well. No one else could make me feel as good as you do.”

With his hips pistoning your hole, your fingers found their way to the nape of his neck, dancing over the tender skin. The way you were looking at each other, so intimate and full of affection, had the words he'd been wanting to say rushing out of his lips.

“I love you.” His movements faltered as if waiting for you to give him any type of answer.

“What’s with that scared face?” You giggled, every inch of your skin flushed with embarrassment and desire. “I love you too.” He loved how young you made him feel, like a silly teenager confessing to his crush only to find out his feelings were reciprocated.

His thrusts resumed, this time slower, deeper, making sure you felt every single ridge and vein of his cock. His length caressed your walls oh so deliciously, bringing you closer and closer to your high. Until someone had to ruin it.

“Dad, where are you?” In a rush, Doyoung pulled out, not even noticing how his seed spilled out of your hole. Fear had taken over the pleasure.

“Get in the bathroom, he probably just forgot something. Don't worry.”

As he'd said, Jeno was quick to leave. Not even ten minutes later, Doyoung was back in his room, announcing Jeno’s little getaway got extended.

“So that means, you can stay for a while longer. Only if you want of course.” The bathtub was filling with warm water and bubbles he'd added. “Or we can go on our own trip, whatever you want.” You felt at ease between his arms, his heartbeat lulling you to sleep.

Who would've thought you'd be losing your mind a few weeks later because of the same man that had given you so much peace before.

“How could you forget to wear protection?!”

“Don't treat me as if I were the only one responsible for this situation.” You hid your face between the warmth of your palms, supporting the side of your head against the window. “Look at me, baby.”

You shook your head, tears starting to slip between your fingers.

“I’m here for you, darling. Whatever you want to do, I'll fully support you.” His thumb traced the shape of the shell of your ear.

“I don't know what I want to do.”

“We still have time to help you figure things out, okay?” There was a certain sadness to his tone, almost as if his hopes were vanishing.

He didn't want to get rid of it, but being pregnant was a burden that you'd have to carry alone as much as he tried to help. It was your choice and only yours.

“I want to have it, but I don't even have a job or economical support. My parents would kill me if they found out. And Jeno, oh boy, he'd have a heart attack.”

“You have me, y/n. And even though I can't do anything about other people's reactions, I'll always be by your side.”

Doyoung wasn't lying. He walked you through every step, even assumed part of the responsibility when talking to your parents, who didn't react as badly as you'd foreseen.

“Just make sure you're making the right choice.” They'd said.

Jeno was the last person to find out.

“Oh, hey y/n. Were you waiting for me?” He dropped the sports bag right in front of de door.

“We have to tell you something.”

“We?” The look on his face was almost comical as if life had been sucked out of his handsome features.

“Yes, we.” Doyoung laced his fingers with yours, tightly locking your hands together.

His father explained the situation calmly, making sure to use the right words to avoid scaring him away. By the time he was done, Jeno was just staring at you with an emotionless face.

“Jeno?” Your heart dropped at the thought of losing your friend. “Say something, please.”

“You want me to say something?”

There was a small, dramatic pause to add some tension to his words. But the mood lightened as soon as his eyes became crescent moons.

“Bold of you to assume I wasn't aware of your little relationship.” He giggled. “It's okay, guys. You're both adults and I trust you know what you're doing.”

“What the hell is going on?” Your thoughts slipped out of your mouth.

“Thank you, Jeno.” Doyoung mouthed, squeezing your shoulder.

“Man, I always wanted a little brother.” He walked up to you, wrapping his arms around you and his father's neck.

“I rather have a girl this time.”

“Should I call you mom?” Jeno teasingly asked, poking the back of your head.

“Try me.”

(...)

As you folded your clothes and placed them in your new closet, the sun started setting. The light sound of sizzling could be heard from the room, probably Doyoung cooking dinner.

“Y/n!” He shouted from downstairs. “Come help me set the table.”

“Coming!” You set aside the remaining boxes. There were not many clothes left to unpack, so you could finish after eating.

You tiptoed on your way downstairs, accomplishing to scare him with a surprise back hug.

“Stop, you could've burnt yourself.” He scolded, undoing your hug only to quickly pull you by his side moments later.

“Is it me or are you getting a little too overprotective?”

“Am not!” His eyebrows quivered like they did every time he lied.

“Really? Then why haven't we had sex ever since you found out I was pregnant?” Your hand teasingly traced figures on his lower abdomen, a little too close to the stove he was using.

“You’re gonna get burnt.” Once again, he tried to push you away, but your hand remained in the same position. “Baby...”

“Uh-uh, you're not gonna sweet-talk your way out. Why won't you touch me anymore? Have I lost my charm or something?”

“What? No!” He turned off the stove, completely turning to his side to face you. “I just don't wanna hurt the baby.”

“Bullshit. You know it's still safe to do it, you already had one son, for god's sake.” Your arms were crossed over your slightly swollen mounds. “I want the truth.”

“I’m telling you the truth...” There was no nervous quiver from his eyebrows, but his tone was less than convincing.

“The whole truth, Doyoung.”

There was no way out, he had to tell you what he'd been trying to hurry at the back of his head for weeks now.

“I can't stop thinking that the only reason we became official is because of this baby, and I'm afraid if you lose it, I'll lose you as well.” It seemed as if your roles had reversed, as if he was the youngest, the most immature.

“Idiot.” You flicked his forehead with anger, later pulling him into a bear hug. “Get those stupid ideas out of your little head or I'll have to slap them out of you.”

“Rude much.”

“I told you once before we found out about the baby...” Your lips were achingly close to his, ready to kiss those soft, pink pillows. “I love you.”

Your eyes were stuck on his lips, too busy to notice how his eyes started sparkling, the edge of them trying to contain his tears. After a while, you looked up, his nostalgic expression puzzling you.

“I’m sorry, it's the hormones.” He sniffled.

“That's not how pregnancy works, honey.”

#nct smut #nct angst #nct au #nct imagines #nct ot21 #nct x reader #nct #nct 127 #nct scenarios #nct doyoung

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eddiemunsonssoulmate · 3 years

Text

Late night devil, put your hands on me

Pairings: Dabi x Hero!Reader

Words: 7.7k

Summary: It was supposed to be a relaxing Saturday night while your roommate was out on a date. Finally some peace and quiet from all the work of the last few weeks. Just you, your bathtub and a good book. Too bad someone had a whole other idea.

Rating: M for Mature & F for Filth

Warnings: Mentions of dubcon, rough sex, choking and a lot of other things. It’s Dabi, you know what’s coming.

Also on: AO3

A/N: How much would I let a man ruin me, level: Dabi. This was supposed to be short and filthy and now it’s long and filthy. Enjoy!

Ain't no one else who can burn me like that

“Have fun and good luck with your date,” you yelled from the hallway when your roommate was almost out of the door.

“Thanks, I’ll need it,” was the only reply you got before the door closed.

Your roommate had been nervous all day long, so it was no surprise to you that words were a little short right now. You just hoped it would go all right, it had been quite some time since the last date.

Which also meant you finally had some peace and quiet on your own this Saturday evening. During the week you two barely saw each other because of work so you would normally spend the weekend together which can be quite exhausting at times.

But today it was only you, a good book and a bathtub. The hero business was always buzzing, there was always a criminal to catch at some corner and the last couple of weeks had been tiring your body out so much that your agency had given you off for this weekend.

Being a sidekick was hard enough in such a renowned agency and you had the tendency to work too much, rarely looking after yourself. They barely had to kick you out yesterday evening and ban you from the agency for the weekend.

You were happy they did, really. Your body needed the rest.

As you were walking through your room, trying to gather the things you needed for a relaxing bath you kept thinking back to the last few cases this month alone. Two attacks from the League, kidnapped children and people getting set on fire for seemingly no reason with no pattern. You didn’t get the League sadly but could at least solve the other two cases.

The one with the children strained your body and your mind the most. It had been hard seeing all those kids in danger, almost getting drowned in acid as an empty threat from the villain. Your team had been able to get everyone out alive, thankfully. But all those crying and terrified children that would have a hard time getting back to their lives...it had been different.

You closed your eyes and shook your head. You shouldn’t think about such things when you are trying to relax and actually forget about work for once.

With a fresh towel and your book under your arm you walked over to the bathroom where you had the water running. It had been quite some time since you actually had the time to take a bath. Normally it was just showers and mostly not even long ones.

You took your clothes off and dipped into the water, letting out a sigh as the hot water moistened your skin.

You leaned back into the tub and closed your eyes for a moment, simply enjoying the warmth around you on this rather cool fall evening.

When you felt comfortable enough to reached over to grab the book you were currently reading, almost halfway done but still so much to go.

It was a fantasy story about love, revenge and a lot of faeries. It was a nice read and you actually really loved the story, you just didn’t have enough time to read it on a regular basis so your plan was to read as much as you could this weekend. You should be able to finish it because as soon as you were caught up in the story again, you knew you couldn’t just leave it be anymore.

As you were reading your book you really did get caught up in it again, the story drawing you in and-

Bang.

Your head shot up from the lines in front of you, eyes looking towards the closed door of the bathroom room. A frown was forming on your face, there clearly had been a loud noise just now.

Was your roommate back already? Did the date go to shit? Was it another bird that flew against your window? It had just happened three days ago so what were the chances?

“Back already?” you hollered with a slight teasing tone on your lips. You would be happy if your roommate had been able to take his date back to your place already but you highly doubted it. It had been barely twenty minutes, you had only been in the bath for roughly ten.

There was no answer. Maybe it was really a bird or something fell from the table. Maybe it had been one of the neighbors in the hallway in front of your apartment but it sounded a little closer.

You shrugged and turned your head back to the book in your hand, trying to find the line where you were when you heard steps. You quietly put your book down and listened in closely.

You swallowed and took a deep breath. There wasn’t enough time to jump out of the tub and get dressed so you readied your quirk while your naked body was still in the water, the bath foam the only thing hiding you.

The handle of the door was pushed down and you were about to set your quirk off when the door opened wide and you were met with blue flames, briefly wrapping around your hands and burning them so you couldn’t use your quirk.

Blue flames.

You hissed in pain and put your hands under the water quickly, trying to cool them down. It wasn’t a bad burn but it still hurt.

“Calm your quirk, doll. It’s just me and we know how far you get every time you used it,” the black haired man said almost annoyed while standing there, leaning against the doorframe with that stupid smirk of his.

Dabi.

“What the fuck are you doing here? In my apartment? Don’t you have people to burn somewhere?” you snapped back at him and he put a hand on his heart, acting like he was affected by your words.

“Oh my, doll. Your words hurt me. I just wanted to visit my favourite hero on her day off,” he told you with a wolfish grin on his lips as he took a step forward. His blue eyes were looking you up and down and only then you realized once more that you were actually naked.

Your relationship with Dabi was...complicated, to say the least. It had started a few months ago when you were chasing him once more, deep into the forest and him setting trees on fire as you two passed through.

Your quirk had been almost useless against him but that didn’t mean you wouldn’t try to catch him. When he had suddenly vanished only to show up behind you, it had been the turning point.

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

Strong arms wrapped around your middle, pulling your back close to his chest. He put his hand around your throat and you could feel the heat radiating from them, seeing small blue flames dancing along his skin.

“Such a sweet girl, following me wherever I go,” he whispered against your ear and you knew that he could snap your neck within a second when you moved now.

“Let me go,” you growled as a weak warning but he just laughed against the skin of your neck when he started to nuzzle it, squeezing with his hand a little.

“What a weak protest. You actually like this, don’t you?” His voice was venom that was dripping into your body and you clenched your jaw.

“The others will be here soon,” you replied, ignoring his comment.

You had met him a couple of times before, never catching him and you couldn’t deny his handsome features, especially those icy blue eyes of his but that wasn’t something you would admit to anyone. He was a villain, you were a hero. He killed people, you saved people. Simple as that.

Your eyes widened when the hand that was wrapped around your middle moved upwards and squeezed your right boob.

“What the-” you started but he squeezed your neck once more, preventing you from getting enough air.

“Shut up and let me enjoy this moment alone with you,” he growled before he spun you around, pressing you against the next tree. His hand was still wrapped around your throat, one of his knees now pressed between your legs.

A chuckle left his throat when he looked at you as you were gritting your teeth, trying to think of a way to get out of this.

“Don’t act so strong, little hero. I’m not going to hurt you that bad, you’re too precious for that,” he growled as his lips were so close to yours that you could feel them brushing against you ever so lightly when he spoke.

You couldn’t deny the attraction, the pull that made your body relax.

Something he noticed, of course.

“Good girl.” He licked his lips, looking at you like you were his prey that he had been hunting down. You for sure felt like that right now.

“y/n!” Suddenly someone yelled your name and Dabi let out an almost feral growl of annoyance while looking around, trying to find the person but from the sound of their voice, they must have been still quite far away.

You tried to answer but felt the fingers around your throat closing tightly once more.“Too bad, I was hoping to have more time with you. Well, maybe next time,” he whispered against your lips before sealing the kiss.

The villain was kissing you and there was nothing you could do about this, except gasp in surprise which he only took as an invite to invade your mouth with his tongue, tasting him and the faint metallic taste of his tongue piercing inside of you.

And as if you didn’t have a mind of your own, you kissed him back only to feel him grin against your lips only a second later. He had what he wanted and you knew it.

What a fool you were.

“Such an obedient doll,” he said with a chuckle when he pulled apart, leaving you breathless and feeling filthy at the same time. “I’ll be back for you.”

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

And back he came. Multiple times. He was pestering you over and over again and you didn’t stop him.

You gave yourself willingly to him and didn’t even know why. He was a dangerous man that had no problem killing you if he wanted to. Had no problem with killing everyone you loved just to get what he wanted and yet, you couldn’t stop it.

Whenever you saw him he was ready to stuff you full with his massive cock, splitting you apart and you were always begging for more.

Maybe it was the feeling of doing something forbidden that was always pulling you back to him. Maybe it was the fault of his eyes that sometimes had a hint of sadness and you just wanted to find out more. The burn scars of his body didn’t come out of nowhere after all but you would never dare to ask. It was all physical after all.

“Cat got your tongue?” he barked at you and got you out of your trance, realizing he stood right in front of the bathtub now, towering over you. “It’s not nice to ignore your guests, you know.”

You bit your lip from keeping the reply inside, still trying to ignore the pain on your hands.

“It’s not like I invited you. How did you get in anyway?” you asked, trying to sound nonchalant while his crotch was so close to your face. You kept your eyes on his but that wasn’t making it any better. His eyes were one of the biggest selling points after all.

“Balcony, it wasn’t that hard to just melt the lock,” he said with a shrug as he crouched down in front of you, face now on the same level. For a moment you wondered how he even got up here, you didn’t live that close to the ground but he probably had his ways. For some reasons the League of Villains were always able to show up in the most unexpected places and they had been seen using portals before even though you doubted he would use portals for such occasions.

“I hate you,” you replied, just thinking of the damage he had done to your door only to get in. You had no idea how to explain a melted lock to your roommate and there was not enough time to switch it out before they would notice.

“I know, that’s why this is so great.” While he said ‘this’ he gestured between the two of you.

You hated him.

You should just gather new strength with your quirk and at least distract him so you could grab clothes and leave.

You should kick him out, inform your colleagues so they can catch him. You should do something and yet you didn’t do a single thing when he let his hand run over your arm with a featherlight touch that was so unlike him.

You didn’t do a thing when his hand dripped below the water, tracing around your breast, your nipple, along your stomach until the center of your legs.

What a fool you were. A naive fool that couldn’t keep her physical needs in check. It wouldn’t be that hard to go out and find a decent man to just get your needs satisfied with.

And yet here you were, with one of the most dangerous, most wanted villains of your generation and you would let him do anything to you.

Kind of pathetic if you would really think about it but thinking was out of the window when his fingers find your clit under the water and you lean your head back with a moan.

Whenever he touched you it felt so electric, you had no explanation for any of this. You were nothing but a toy to him and you didn’t even complain.

“That’s my girl,” he chuckled when he watched how your body started to squirm, you arching your back so your boobs were outside the water. “And I’m barely touching you.”

You knew, for fucks sake. He was only rubbing small circles against your clit and yet you already felt like you were on fire.

One of his fingers dipped inside of you and you let out another moan, opening your eyes again to look down, watching how he was pumping one finger in and out of you, then adding another one.

“You’re so wet,” he chuckled and you turned your head towards him. His other arm was resting on the side of the bathtub, his head on his arm, looking almost innocent if it wasn’t for that wolfish grin on his lips that made you afraid he would just eat you up any second.

He was pumping three fingers in and out of you now and you were barely able to hold it together, your legs were moving on their own, splashing water around more than necessary until he pulled his hand away suddenly and your whole body stopped.

“What?” you said in confusion and heard his laugh, shaking his head and simply putting his hand in front of you, spreading his fingers apart and you could clearly see your wetness coating his fingers. He dipped his hand under water once more to clean them.

“What what?” he replied as if he didn’t know what you were talking about. Fucking bastard.

“I-” you stopped yourself, biting your lip. Your body was burning hot and you just wanted release but that’s just what he wanted to hear.

“You what, doll?” He grinned at you and watched you taking deep breaths, trying to calm your body down but with him so close that turned out to be quite the challenge.

“I want to cum,” you mumbled, barely audible even to yourself. God, you felt so ashamed even thinking about this.

“Excuse me? I must have water in my ears, what did you just say?”

Gods, you hated him. You hated that smug smile, that teasing tone, that pleased look in his eyes that he had when he got close to getting what he wanted.

“I want to cum,” you said again, this time louder and clenching your jaw in anger. You didn’t just hate him, you also hated yourself for this.

“Why didn’t you just say so, princess?” he chuckled and stood up, opening his buckle. You looked at him confused and he caught on, shrugging with his shoulders. “Well, you have to earn it first.”

Of course he wouldn’t just let you off the hook that easily.

His pants and underwear dropped to the ground and he let out a relieved sigh when his cock sprang free, not straining against the fabric anymore.

“Open up,” he told you and you sat up straight in the tub, feeling a cool breeze especially around your breast, only causing your nipples to grow more. Something he clearly approved of because his cock started to twitch at the new sight that you were giving him.

Dabi took his cock in his hand, pumped it a few times before ligning it up with your open mouth.

“Tongue,” he demanded and you pushed your tongue out, letting him put his dick it. He let it rest there for a moment before pushing inside of you slowly and you closed your lips around him.

“Hm, that’s good,” he said with a low moan falling from his lips and you got to work. After all this time you had figured out what he liked, figured out how to be careful of his piercing in your throat so you didn’t hurt yourself or him.

You shifted a little in the tub, trying to take him deeper and reaching forward to fondle his balls.

He let out a choked gasp and leaned forward, hands resting against the tiled wall of your bathroom while he tried to hold himself steady. For some reason it made you proud that you could do this to him because he always did way worse to you.

Wet sounds were filling the bathroom, sounds of the water splashing a little as you were moving around and sounds of your lips and tongue swirling around his cock, making him moan from time to time.

But suddenly he grabbed the back of your head without a warning and pushed his dick deep inside of you.

“C’mon, be a good doll and choke on it.” His words were ringing in your ears when he was hitting the back of your throat, tears gathering in your eyes and you felt like you couldn’t breathe.

“Don’t be dumb, you have a nose for a reason,” he reminded you and you tried to breath through your nose before he pulled back out almost completely, only to push forward with more force and there was nothing you could do against it. You simply took his dick as far in as you could, opening your jaw to its maximum and yet, it still felt like it wasn’t enough.

He did this a few times and after one more big push and his tip once again tickling the back of your throat you felt his hot semen spilling down your throat and you were struggling not to choke.

When he pulled out you were coughing, trying to catch a breath, some of his cum still on your lips.

You heard how he started to hum when he picked his pants back up and you looked at him with widened eyes.

His eyes landed on you once again as he was about to close his belt. “I really like this sight of you, you know. Wet, messy, my cum still on your lips.” He chuckled, more to himself than to you.

The black haired man noticed the look on your face and he tilted his head a little to the side. “Hm? You want to say something?”

Obviously but you couldn’t. Your throat was still burning from the ruthless attacks only seconds before and you were trying to catch a breath to even form a sentence.

“I thought-” you started but had to stop, swallowing hard. He was once again just standing in front of the tub, looking down at you with that cold look of his. “I thought you’d...give me release.”

“Are you saying you don’t want me to go, princess? Because it really sounded like you wanted to get rid of me when I arrived.” He tried to hide his grin but you saw the edges of his mouth twitching, the staples moving ever so slightly, giving him away. Not that he would mind. He knew exactly that you were at his mercy and he knew that you knew.

“Gods, I ha-” Once again you stopped midway when you saw how his eyes darkened and you swallowed the rest of the sentence. “Can you please not go?”

“That doesn’t sound really convincing, maybe try again?” He crossed his arms over his chest, his gaze fixed on you and it almost felt like he was trying to drill a hole in you with his look.

You took a deep breath. “Can you please stay and...fuck me?”

“Are you begging for my cock, doll?” Dabi asked and started to smirk again.

You hated this, him, you.

“Yes, please fuck me with your cock. I need it,” you said without thinking. You were tired of thinking, tired of fighting this. It had been a lost fight from the beginning, you knew this and even worse, he knew this too.

“My, why didn’t you say this sooner?” he replied with a chuckle and looked almost a little too gleefully for a second. “Up.”

“Up?” you repeated his words back at him and looked at him confused.

“Out of the tub, doll. You’ll get all wrinkly otherwise and as much as I’d love to leave bruises on you, I’m not interested in having them on myself. Meet me in the living room.” With that he left the bathroom so casually as if he would live here. As if he wasn’t a dangerous villain.

You got out of the bathtub, legs a little weak. You used your towel to dry yourself and thought about putting on clothes for a moment. That would be the perfect time to get back on track, to gather your things and get out. He was distracted and you would have your chance to get away from him.

Only problem, you didn’t want to. The pull was too strong. It was something feral that was boiling in your stomach, something raw that you couldn’t stop.

Your clothes were ignored and forgotten as you made your way over to the living room. Only dimmed lights were on and you saw how the balcony door was opened a bit, letting cool air inside.

It made you shiver so you wrapped the arms around yourself.

“Cold?” he asked and you spotted him in one of the dark corners. “I actually appreciate the look.”

Dabi walked towards you and pinched both of your nipples at the same time, already hard from the cold and now even harder. Arousal was building up between your legs again.

It felt quite humiliating to stand in front of him like this, naked in dimmed light. If your neighbors would look carefully they might even spot what was going on through the big windows of your living room.

Normally you only had quick fucks with clothes on, simply pushed down to the knees and ankles, him forcing himself inside of you, trying to get as much out of the little time you had together.

But this? This was different. You didn’t just have fifteen minutes, you probably had at least two hours or however long it would take for your roommate to return. A lot of things could happen during this time.

You felt the heat radiating from his body, standing so close to you but he was fully dressed and not naked.

“Tell me again, doll. What is it you want from me?” You weren’t sure if he just loved his own voice so much or if he only wanted to hear you say filthy things. Maybe a bit of both.

You closed your eyes for a moment, trying to clear your brain. Thinking wouldn’t help now. You just had to give in to your urges. Forget who he was, who you were.

“I want you to fuck me,” you replied after opening your eyes and he took a step forward, causing you to take a step backwards out of instinct. One more time, two more times, wall behind you.

The cool wall was not really comfortable against your back but the heat in front of you was close to burning your skin. You wondered if he had activated his quirk without the flames to cause this heat or if it was just your body reacting to him.

“Are you sure you can handle it, doll? It won’t be like the other times. We’ve got time. I’m going to split you apart and make you mine, there’s nothing to stop me this time,” he growled, his voice so deep and dripping with lust.

He put his hands next to your head, trapping you with his whole body. It sounded almost like he was asking for your consent, not something he would normally do. He liked to take the things he wanted.

“What if I say no?” you blurted out, surprised at the words leaving you but the curiosity was too strong. Curiosity also killed the cat.

He grabbed your chin with his right hand and forced you to look him deep in the eyes.

“Can you?” he asked with a raised eyebrow and his blue eyes looked at you so intensely that it felt like he was looking directly into your soul. As if he could see that you would not refuse, could not refuse.

“Please use me.” You didn’t directly reply to his question but your words were enough of an answer.

Without wasting another moment he pressed his lips against yours. You felt relief and your body relaxed, even more so when you opened your mouth and let him in. He always kissed like he was a dying man and maybe he was. You didn’t know, wouldn’t know if you asked him. It was not your place to know.

His hands started to wander over your naked body, groping your breasts, then down to your ass, fingertips running through the slit of your ass before grabbing your cheeks and hoisting you up, pressing you more against the wall, all of it without breaking the kiss.

“You really are special, you know?” he said when he pulled away from the kiss and you tilted your head, asking what he meant without using words.

Dabi started to kiss along your neck, licking and sucking the soft skin there. “You’re so defiant, so rebellious whenever we fight and yet here you are, acting like my willing slut.”

He was right about this but you couldn’t explain it to him because you didn’t have an answer to yourself. You knew it was wrong and yet, you still wanted him, all of him.

Thankfully he didn’t expect a reply to his words, not that you were able to answer the moment he bit down hard on the flesh of your neck, bruising and almost breaking the skin there.

The villain in front of you was marking you. Marking you as his and people would probably see the mark at some point, asking you questions and you had to make up a stupid excuse. You couldn’t tell anyone the truth.

Your legs were wrapped around his middle and you could feel his cock once again straining against the fabric of his pants, pressing against your center, begging to be freed.

Dabi growled against the wounded skin on your neck, a feral sound that left his throat and you felt how his hands got hotter while holding your ass. You tried to ignore the pain that was slowly growing stronger and suddenly, it stopped.

He lifted his head from your neck to look at you and you leaned forward into another kiss, wrapping your arms around him.

The black haired man started to move with you in his arms, carrying you across the living room before dropping you without a warning, turning you around and pressing you against the window next to the broken balcony door.

You only had a moment to prevent being pressed completely against the glass, hands in front of you.

“That’s not how we play, doll”, he said, followed by a disapproving ‘tsk’ and he took your wrists, pulled them towards him and put them on your back so you were completely pressed against the cold glass in front of you.

Thankfully it was rather dark in your room but you were sure if some people from the apartment block over there or even just from the street, they would be able to spot you.

You felt humiliated once again, pressed against the window with your cheek , nipples on display for everyone.

“Imagine all those people being able to see you now,” he said with a dark chuckle behind you, hands grabbing your ass before pressing his chest against your back, towering over you and also getting a good look on the street below you.

You were pretty high up here but not high enough to not get noticed.

He slipped a hand to the front and ran his fingers through your folds. “Looks like that turns you on.”

You were almost embarrassed with how wet the thought made you. You didn’t want it to happen and yet, when he was saying those things to you, you couldn’t stop being aroused by that.

Dabi lifted his wet finger to your face and used his free hand to grab your hair to pull you back a little. Even though your hands were not held in place anymore now, you let them rest at your back, they were still trapped with his body anyway.

He lifted your face and held his wet finger in front of you. “Lick.”

Without another thought you opened your mouth to let your tongue swirl around his long finger, licking your own juice off of him.

You felt filthy and used but loved every second of it.

He let go of your hair and you put your face back against the glass, letting the cold glass cool you down for a moment before he grabbed your hips and pulled you back roughly. This time you had to use your hands to brace yourself against the window or you would have fallen over.

You felt the tip of his cock dancing around your entrance and you hadn’t even noticed that he had taken off his pants once again. God, you were really dazed with lust and need if you couldn’t even notice this. So much for not letting your guard down around a villain.

Without a warning he pushed deep inside of you, making you scream in surprise and you had to bite down hard on your bottom lip to stop yourself. The balcony door was broken and open after all, they would not only be able to see but also to hear you.

“You feel so good, doll. My cock buried deep inside of you. Is that what you wanted?” You felt his piercing rub against your most sensitive spot inside of you and you moaned, nodding slightly.

“Yes, it feels so good,” you replied, trying to keep your voice down, afraid you might give someone outside a clue about what was going on in here.

Dabi started to pull out and push back in, first with a slow rhythm, actually giving you time to get used to his thickness, time you normally never had. During your usual encounters he would leave you split open and with a burning. Not that he cared. It wasn’t a pleasant feeling but it made you remember him for days afterwards.

This time was different. He let you adjust, giving you time and you wondered what plans he had in that sick mind of his.

Your hands started to get sweaty against the glass, slipping down millimeters from time to time whenever he pulled out of you and pushed back in.

It didn’t take long for his rhythm to get faster and all you could do was moan and take him. With every thrust he hit the right places, his hands gripping your waist tightly, fingernails digging into your skin.

Soon enough you could only hear the slapping noises of skin meeting skin, his balls hitting against your from behind.

Suddenly a loud slap rang into your ears and the pain came only a moment later. It wasn’t the normal pain of getting spanked, it burned.

You gasped in surprise and saw blue flames from the corner of your eyes when you turned your head around.

“Don’t hold back with me, princess. I want to hear those moans.” It wasn’t a request or a reminder, it was a threat, the blue flames speaking for themselves.

You hated yourself for actually liking it.

When he pushed deep inside of you with the next thrust you let out the moan he wanted to hear, trying to forget that you were right in front of a window, that the door was open, trying to forget everything but him and how he made you feel.

“That’s it. Stop thinking. I’m the only important thing that exists for you, my little doll.”

You repeated his words in your mind over and over again, letting him fuck you hard from behind, letting him take control over you. It felt good to let go for once.

Your mind was taken back to reality when you felt how he started to massage your butthole from behind.

Once again you turned your head to look over your shoulder, your gaze meeting his and he started to grin. His thrusts had become a little slower while he kept rubbing soft circles around the sensitive skin of your back entrance.

“What are you-” you didn’t get to finish the sentence when he started to slowly press a wet finger inside. You weren’t sure if it was your own wetness or just spit.

“I told you to stop thinking. Are you deaf or just a brat?” He sounded way more aggressive but even this tone sent more arousal down your core and you felt yourself getting even wetter. Something he must have felt too with his cock buried so deep inside of you.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled and he nodded, pushing the finger inside deeper. It burned but not as much as your cheek that he had slapped moments before. It was a different kind of burn.

“I can actually feel my cock from here,” he said with a chuckle and wiggled his finger inside your back entrance, causing you to moan loudly. It was a completely new sensation for you. You had done it yourself before but this...this was different.

You closed your eyes and your legs started to get weak when he picked up the pace again, one finger buried deep inside your ass. The whole feeling had shifted, the penetration felt completely different now and you were barely able to handle it. He was really fucking you stupid at this point.

When he added a second finger you moaned loudly, not sure if it felt good or if it was just discomfort, you weren’t sure of anything anymore at this point.

His hips snapped at you roughly and you could feel wetness running down the insides of your thigh.

“You sound so sweet when you take all of me.” He sounded so amused, knowing he had you at his mercy, there was nothing you could do at this point. “But I want more. You better not resist or it will hurt.”

Without having the chance to even process what he said he pulled out of you, leaving you to feel horrible empty. You started to whine, almost desperate noises leaving your mouth and when you tried to look back you felt it.

His wet tip at your ass as he started to push it in. You wanted to protest, wanted to say something but you tried to focus on relaxing so it wouldn’t hurt.

It hurt anyway, his thickness was too much for you.

You were a sobbing mess by the time he had all of himself buried inside of you, his piercing rubbing against you on a whole other level now.

Tears were in your eyes but to your surprise, he didn’t move. Let you adjust once more.

“Good girl,” he replied and stroked your back. It was actually comforting, something you had never felt with him before.

When you sobbed once again he slapped your ass hard, only making you whine louder.

“Don’t be like that now. I’ve told you I’d split you apart. You gave yourself willingly to me,” he said with a slight edge in his voice. He was right, of course, you just didn’t expect it to be like that.

He was rough and yet gentle. He made you sob and moan at the same time. You wanted this, you had agreed to this and after a long moment of silence and adjusting, it actually started to feel good.

Dabi must have felt how your tights rings started to relax around himself because he patted your cheek he had slapped before almost gently.

“See, not too bad. Better brace yourself.” He pulled out of you slowly only to slam it back inside and your body surged forward, pressing back against the window, your hands stopping the collison.

“Well, actually,” he started again and grabbed your wrists again, pulling them to himself once more and pinning them on your back like before.

Once again your face was pressed against the window, your back was arching so far back it almost hurt but the feeling of satisfaction that was soon added to your rollercoaster of emotion was overshadowing everything.

The way he was buried deep in your ass and kept fucking you hard from behind felt so good, made you feel alive, made you forget the world around you.

“You’re such a willing slut if you want to be. Not a single thought in that mind of yours right now, pressed against the window with no care in the world if anyone sees you now or not,” he said and watched you in your state. You almost felt high from the feeling, his grip on your wrists was strong, his words were dripping sex to you in this moment.

“Do you want to be seen by people, doll?” he asked and you swallowed, trying to form a thought to answer his question.

“I don’t care, just fuck me. Fuck me hard.” Your reply was music to his ears and he was happy to give you what you wanted.

His hips started to snap against your behind, his dick going outside and back inside almost forcefully. You moaned loudly now, not holding back anything anymore. It felt too good, everything had become such a haze.

You had never felt this way with anyone before and you knew that was his way to make you his, to claim you, to make you come back for more.

You knew you would.

He reached forward with a hand and pinched your clit for a moment before letting it wander towards your breast, stroking them for a moment until his hand closed around your throat.

You swallowed hard and he growled behind you.

“Stop being scared, it’s annoying.” To emphasize his words he gave you another, single hard thrust that made you squeal, a sound he could feel against his hand that was comfortably wrapped around your throat.

“You’ve been so good, don’t ruin it now,” he mumbled and you barely heard it between your moans and the sound of wet skin.

Your body was sweating already and you could barely breathe, even less with his hand wrapped around you.

Dabi suddenly pulled you back, making you choke briefly with his hand. The angle of his cock changed and without even realizing it, your tight rings clamped down around him and you came, wetness coming out of you and running down your thighs.

“Anal orgasm, hm? Never seen that before,” he chuckled and sounded almost proud but you weren’t sure if he was proud of you or himself.

You felt his cock twitch when you were clamping around him and he already sounded out of breath with every word that left his mouth.

“I’m close, doll.” At least one warning this evening but the tone in his voice told you he wanted something. You knew exactly what it was.

“Please, come in my ass. Claim it, it’s yours,” you moaned out between sobs and quick breaths, breaths you weren’t able to take anymore when his hand tightened around your neck, pressing yourself back roughly against him.

You felt dizzy when you felt his cum seeping inside of you. It was still so much even after you had swallowed quite a bit before.

Your insides became hot when he painted you with his cum and you whined, trying to catch a breath but he didn’t let you.

Only when the world started to spin and became slightly black at the corners of your eyes did he let go of your throat and you immediately took a deep breath.

“Don’t pass out on me now, princess.”

Your chest was heaving and you tried to get as much air in your lungs as you could. He pushed you forward slightly and pulled out of you.

Your own wetness was running down the insides of your thighs while his cum came out of your other entrance.

He chuckled slightly and slapped your ass, something that made you realize how weak your legs actually were. You were about to meet the floor but he caught you without any effort.

“Got you better than expected,” he told you with a grin that you didn’t see but heard.

Dabi lifted you up and carried you over to the couch, putting you down on your stomach. When he wanted to turn around he stopped you.

“Stay. I want my cum to stay in your ass, just as a reminder,” he said with a cheeky wink and you felt exhaustion washing over your body.

For a moment he vanished from your sight and returned fully clothed to your sight. He crouched down in front of you and pushed some hair out of your tired face.

“Cat got your tongue again?” he asked, trying to provoke you into saying something stupid as you always did.

“Shut up,” you mumbled weakly and he laughed at your weak attempt. A dark laugh but different than before.

You wanted to say so much more, so slap him for making you almost pass out, yelling at him for being so rough but you just couldn’t. Your body and your mind were tired and you didn’t have the energy to fight it. That would have to wait until your next meeting.

“Don’t worry, I’ll see myself out. I’ll even use the front door this time.”

You just hummed in approval, hoping he wouldn’t seal anything on the way out. Tiredness was coming over you and you barely felt how he threw a blanket over your naked body before you fell asleep.

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

“I’m back,” you heard the familiar voice of your roommate while you slowly woke up from your slumber.

You smiled slightly when waking up, a yawn leaving your mouth when he started to turn around on the couch.

It took you way too long to realize where you were and why you were there.

Still naked on the couch, covered only with a blanket with Dabi’s cum in your ass. Balcony door still melted, imprints of sweat against the window next to it, and the bathtub was still filled.

Your roommate walked into the living room and turned the light on maximum from it’s dimmed state.

“Date was okay but I don’t think she is the girl for me,” the young man you shared your flat with replied and he was looking at your widened eyes.

He squinted his eyes at you and took in the surroundings. He wasn’t stupid. He would know. The state you were in would give it away if not anything else.

The small grin tugging at the edges of his lips told you that he knew.

“Looks like someone had fun on their own while I was gone. Please clean that up tomorrow, I don’t want to sit on any bodily fluids,” he replied and waved with his hand, a blush forming on your cheeks.

“Of course,” you replied, still tired. All you wanted was for him to go to his room so you could either fall back asleep on the couch or make it to your bedroom. When you shifted on the couch, it was clear that you would go nowhere. Everything hurt and your legs were still weak.

Suddenly his two colored hair peaked back out around the corner, followed by his face and he grinned at you again.

“Actually, I’m quite jealous. I wish my date would have gone that way,” he told you with that bright grin of his and you threw a pillow after him.

“Go to bed or I’ll give you a scar that matches your other one!”

You only heard the young man laugh as he made his way down the hallway and you waited until you heard the telltale sound of his bedroom door close.

Once again you shook his head, mind filled with Dabi as you fell back into a deep slumber.

It was only the next morning that you noticed all the hickeys on your neck and the imprint of his hand on your ass that he burned in on there. It wouldn’t be permanent but it would for sure be there for a few days.

'Cause I'm a sucker, I'll do 'bout anything

#Dabi x Reader #Dabi x y/n #Dabi x You #Dabi #touya x you #touya todoroki #my hero academia #dabi imagine #mha #boku no hero academia #bnha #dabi fanfic #smut

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pillow-anime-talk · 3 years

Text

genshin month ; third day.

synopsis: You and your fiancé started spending less and less time together.

# tags: scenario; current relationship; romance; mild angst; also fluff; sfw with suggestive ending

includes: female reader ft. albedo & sucrose {genshin impact}

author’s note: it’s time for some fucking angst but with happy end, friends.

You packed a delicious-looking breakfast into a special bamboo box, and then wrapped both the beautifully scented bento and the paper bag with chocolate cookies in a much larger piece of colorful fabric to make it all more convenient to carry. A proud smile graced your face as you turned to greet Albedo, whose footsteps you heard in the distance.

“Hello, darling.” You greeted him warmly and then felt a sweet kiss in the middle of your hot forehead. “Breakfast is on the table, and here, I packed your dinner. Please, eat it later, okay?” You added softly, touching his delicate skin on his cheek by your left hand, and the man nodded gently, after a while, however, nestling your body into his slightly larger and warmer. “Huh? Something happened?”

“Well... I know, I promised you that today we will spend some time together and go for a walk, but I will have to stay longer at work.” He confessed hesitantly, and you sighed under your breath.

“After all, you are our Chief Alchemist, I’m not really surprised. Has Jean commissioned you to do something important?” Curious, you asked, and he shook his head, which made you a bit confused. So you raised an eyebrow, gesturing for him to answer you truthfully.

“Sucrose asked me to help her with alchemy, so I’ll stay with her a little longer to help her master some of the things.” He admitted calmly, and your expression becomes blank. Ah, right. You could have figured out that the reason for all of this is your fiance’s helper, Sucrose.

You moved away from his body, then sighed; nevertheless, a weak smile appeared on your face. Not very honest, but Albedo didn’t seem to notice it.

“It’s okay, love. Let’s go eat our breakfast. I made your favorite vegetable and mushroom omelets.”

{ ･ﾟ✧ }

Hours after Albedo left the house, you realized that you forgot to add a thermos with coffee to his large bento. You decided to quickly fix your mistake and prepared his favorite, strong drink. You also took some fresh fruit and packed it in a small cloth bag. On its front there was a beautiful bouquet that you had embroidered yourself a few days earlier.

Even though you were confused by the behavior of your lover, you couldn’t stop worrying about him. He was the most important person for you, he was your beloved second half, he was also the best human you have ever met, so you wanted to repay him for looking after you and making sure that nothing bad would ever happen to you. Albedo cared for you as best he could and you appreciated it like nothing else in the world. However, for a long time you have had the impression that this care and interest in you begins and ends in your shared home, where no one is looking, where no one is allowed to enter.

Your weekly walks around the city were a thing of the past, and you didn’t want to ask for them every time. Your ‘family’ lunches were no longer shared lunches, because you ate them alone while the twenty-two-years-old was in his lab or carrying out his missions. Your tenderness was limited to kisses on the forehead, and you missed kisses on the mouth, on the nose, on other parts of the body. Not to mention about long baths together or time spent in bed (not necessarily reading books, but something... more intimate).

Nevertheless, you weren’t particularly angry, maybe a bit disappointed, but you didn’t feel angry with your partner. The only thing you could feel at that time was your concern about whether Albedo takes care of himself and takes care of his daily menu or the right amount of water consumed throughout the whole day.

The road to the place where the young man’s laboratory was located took you less than twenty minutes. Along the way, you greeted the inhabitants of Mondstadt, who, seeing you, wished you a nice day and asked you to greet, quoting their words, ‘The Great Captain’. At the sound of their joyfull voices you smiled slightly, nodding your head and promising you would do it. And as soon as you got to the right place, you quietly entered the building. You wanted to say ‘Good afternoon’ to your loved one and green-haired teenager, but instead you almost felt that the bag of products falling out of your hands.

You knew Albedo cherished you and would never cheat on you, but it hurt to see him leaning forward next to Sucrose. It seemed that his lips were about to touch her cheek or temple, and it hurt as badly as any other form of cheating. He had so much fun with her and their alchemy, so many topics to talk about, from work to missions they were given, and you? All you two could talk about was only... Yeah, was what?

“Umm... Albedo?” Your peaceful voice spread over the fairly large room, and two people next to the wooden table looked up at your standing figure. “I forgot to pack your coffee in the morning... I’ll put it here and I won’t disturb you two anymore. Don’t overstraining yourselves, okay?” Your faint smile covered a broken voice and trembling lips. “Good luck with your work and study. Do your best.”

You quickly put the silvery thermos and colorful fruit on the dark cabinet, and just as quickly left the room. Albedo, seeing your figure disappearing, apologized to his assistant, and she nodded. But before the blonde alchemist left the room, Sucrose grabbed him by the black sleeve of his clothes and laughed shyly.

“Mr. Albedo, I don’t think I need any extra lessons today, though. We can arrange a different date. Will it be okay?” Her girlish voice reached his ears, and he mechanically agreed, breathing blissfully. “Thank you. Please keep Mrs. Y/N company tonight. I think she misses you really much.”

The knight wanted to answer, but instead he ran after you, catching you up almost at the exit of the brick building. He took your sad face slowly between his all, long fingers and you frowned.

“Why are you leaving? You’re always welcome here, darling.”

“I just don’t want to disturb you two, Albedo. I don’t fit here.” You admitted finely, and your gaze shifted to the mahogany panels under your feet. “Sometimes I wonder why you are with me. I don’t even understand alchemy, you can’t talk to me about it. You should... Maybe you should be with Sucrose? Or with another woman who shares your hobbies...?” You asked tenderly, and he opened his eyes wider, pulling your body into a warm embrace.

“I never thought of leaving you for someone else, dearest. Why are you talking about this at all? What happened?”

Your eyes met his deep blue orbs again, and you shrugged timidly.

“Currently, Sucrose is closer to you than I am. I thought you were bored with me. Moreover – I don’t thi...”

A precious kiss on your blueberry-tasting lips silenced your thoughts and at the same time caused a tiny blush on your both cheeks and ear tips.

“Sucrose is my successor, it’s true. But, my love. You are my future wife and you’re definitely more important to me than she is. Please don’t ever think that I will leave you for someone else. You are the best thing... no, you’re the best person that enter to my life and I love you very, very much. Also... Sucrose always asks about you and says she wants to be like you. Like someone who know how to cook or bake, sew clothes and plushies, make beautiful hairstyles like the ones on my head. She admires you as someone admires their mother. Sometimes I have the feeling that she would rather be your apprentice than mine.” He laughed cutely, and you looked at him in big surprise. After a short while, however, you nodded, resting your head on his smooth neck. “... I know I’ve been neglecting you lately and I’m ashamed of it, but now I promise to make it up to you. Therefore, let’s go home and tomorrow we’ll go for a walk to the lake or for a picnic.”

“Huh? But your job? Extra-curricular activities...? And what about...”

“Don’t think about anything. We’re done now so let’s go, dear. I have to show you how different you are from other people when it comes to my feelings.” Suddenly his mouth was right next to your left ear, and warm breath wrapped around your face. “And I don’t promise you’ll fall asleep tonight.”

“... A-Albedo!”

previous day ; aether ♡ next day ; keqing

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creepling · 3 years

Text

the shape of you - (smut)

pairing: din djarin x fem!reader

word count: 5.1K

summary: the mandalorian saves an intergalatic sex worker from a prison ship and brings her on board the razor crest. tensions begin to rise between the two as one night goes in a direction the other did not expect.

rating: EXPLICIT (minors dni) -- mentions of sex work/slavery, sexual dancing, oral (male receiving), masturbation (female receiving), doggystyle, begging, rough sex, breeding kink??, cursing.

a/n: this is my first time not writing in first person for a fanfic so sorry if it’s hard to read at some points!!

alternative link: ao3.

Ever since you were saved by The Mandalorian from the prison ship, for reasons that are still unknown to you, a sense of relief and freedom coursed through your body. If only The Mandalorian knew about your fate, he may sympathize with you more. All throughout your life, ever since your adolescence have you been bought and sold by many throughout the galaxy, either for entertainment or pleasure. If the authorities had not raided the trading ship you were on board upon you were to be in the hands of Jabba The Hutt; a grotesque-looking crime lord you were certainly relieved to be rid from. But alas, luck then comes with its flaws and instead you were trapped in a cell in the nowhere realms of the galaxy -- beginning to wonder if your body would wither away and die in the cell for years to come.

You had never set eyes on a Mandalorian until that day, not even as a client. You thought them more mythical than their opposing Jedi Knights. The shine of his helmet and his strong arms whisking you to safety brought a sense of optimism into your world view. It made you realise that there are some good people in the galaxy. And once you were on board his ship and encountered The Child, the sight of something so precious gave you a nurturing urge. The Mandolorian’s protectiveness over The Child was so rare to you. It made you yearn for his protectiveness, for a man like him to defend you at every corner. It made you want to be noticed.

Once arriving to a planet, The Mandalorian promised to bring back supplies, one of them included fresh clothes to replace the revealing garments you wore. You asked if the lack of fabric was distracting, showing your natural alluring nature. To which The Mandalorian replied with a bluntly logical answer, saying the clothes will not be suitable for travelling. As much as you agreed, you wished that he loosened up with you a bit more, beginning to wonder if The Mandalorian was even finding your company pleasant.

That night he returned with a sack-full of supplies. He arranged supper for the night, feeding The Child first before it grew too tired to eat, shortly after putting it to bed in its shut-off container within the ship. You had requested The Mandalorian some spotchka if he could find any, to which you looked through the sack to see an untouched bottle full of the glowing blue liquid. A smile came to your face and you immediately poured two glasses of the liquid. When the Mandalorian entered the room, you held his glass with an outreached hand, beckoning him to drink it. Then you said some words:

“I wanted to make a toast, in celebration! To thank you for saving my life yesterday. I would have gone out and gotten the beverage myself, if you hadn’t forbidden me to leave the ship.” You said, a sweet smile creeping onto your face, feeling a little bashful as you stood in front of his towering figure.

“That’s very thoughtful of you.” He said, his helmet tilting down as he glanced at the drink in his hand. “But I shouldn’t drink on the job.”

“I only ask for one drink, Mando. Just for tonight. I’ll look away when you take sips of it.” You promised, hoping he will feel more at ease with that statement.

He gave a low hum in agreement, bringing a smile to your face. You wished you could see his smile, see his face. See how he reacts to your presence. You clinked your glass against his and immediately turned around, taking a sip of your drink. Your inner voice urged you to turn, to take a glance at his complexion. Yet, another voice also commented on how the mystery of his identity fills you with arousal. You shook the feelings burning inside and whisked the rest of the blue liquid down your throat, gasping in quenched thirst. You hesitated before turning, “Can I turn around now?

“Oh um- Yes. Thank you.” He assured. Oh my, he was so polite. Possibly the only gentlemen you have encountered with such manners. You turned around, pouring yourself another glass of spotchka to go with your supper. To save Mando some rest you prepared the food and served him by a small table in the corner of the ship’s small room, taking a seat next to him.

Once you cleared up for supper, The Mandalorian willingly sat with you for a few more minutes. He seemed to be curious about you, asking questions that you were obliged to answer, if you wanted him to trust you. You wanted to reassure him that you were not a threat.

“How did you end up in the prison ship?” The Mandalorian asked, trying not to allude to your clothes giving away that information.

“I have been a slave ever since I was an adolescence. When I came of age, I began to do dancing and sexual service for whoever bought me. I was on a trading ship to Tatooine when the New Republic raided and took prisoners. I lost count of the days, but I was roughly in there for over a month.” Telling your story felt hesitant. You wondered how he would take to you being a sex slave, as a lot of people frown upon it. You wondered if he was disgusted or sympathetic, it was hard to tell his reaction with his helmet on.

“Why did you save me? I am internally grateful, of course. But what made you do it? You seemed to be in a rush to escape.” You asked, your eyebrows furrowing in question.

“I have seen many women like you.” The Mandalorian said, “I have done bounties for crime lords who keep their own sex slaves. As much as I needed the credits, it always pained me to leave with those women trapped with that life forever. I recognised your clothes; it was the ones they wore too. I thought, if I save someone like you once in my life, I would feel less guilty.”

His words moved you. It is very rare to see someone talk to you as a human. Many treated you and other sex slaves like objects, like droids without feeling. They did not care what you liked or adored, they only cared about their gain. The work has taken an emotional toll on you as much as it was hard to admit. Every day you wished you could be free, live in a home on a peaceful planet, fall in love, raise a family. That is not hard to ask for, is it?

“Well, you have made one more slave happy.” You said, reaching your hand to place it on top of his. He stared into your eyes, entranced for a moment, before nodding his helmet and giving your hand a gentle squeeze before retrieving it back onto his lap. After a few seconds of content silence, admiring him for a moment, you spoke up.

“Want to see some of my dancing?” You said, trying to lighten up the mood. “Don’t worry! I won’t touch you or anything!”

“I um- I dunno . . .” Hesitation dominated his voice, the first time you detected emotion from him. He leaned back on his chair and rubbed the back of his clothed neck.

“Honestly, it’s not as raunchy as you think it would be. I know how to be graceful when I need to be.” You said with a hint of light-heartedness. Once your words convinced him, he let out a low sigh and nodded his head.

“Go on then. Show me what you’ve got.”

A smile erupted on your face and you rose to your feet, positioning yourself from a comfortable distance in front of Mando. You raised your delicate arms outward to begin your routine. A routine that you have memorized for years, one that showcases your grace and beauty for audiences. Counting mentally in your head, you begin to move your arms softly either side of you. Your hips began to sway, your head held high to show your face. You moved your feet to slowly turn around, showing all the lines and bends of your body. The fabric of your dress swayed with the motions and complimented your skin. You stepped from side to side, giving graceful twirls, lifting your leg in a cursive shape like a ballerina. Your arms still moved like a dignified snake, going from up other your head to around your waist and along the small of your back. A content smile lay upon your face and your eyes peaked towards The Mandalorian through your winking eyelashes; a habit you took up to intrigue watchers and make them bashful. Even without music, you fell into your element and became lost in your movements. When being a slave is a horrible life to live, the dancing made you have a passion.

The Mandalorian could not take his eyes off you. He sat content at first, until your movements made him shift in his chair as he watched how your body moved with such beauty. Under his helmet, he bit the inside of his cheek. Yet, his eyes stayed traced on you, knowing you would have no idea where his eyes lay from the blockage of his helmet. He could not stop the thoughts that flowed through his mind, thoughts relating to your body. How you were posed so perfectly from the core of your body to the ends of your fingertips. You never slouched or tripped over your feet; every movement was without failure. And your hips, God, he could not take his eyes off your hips. And when you would turn and expose your backside; your rich-colour underwear cloaked under the sheer fabric of your dress revealing your smooth skin. The deeper he got into his thoughts, the more he became out of tune with his surroundings. And when you stopped dancing, his eyes were still fixated on you.

“Sorry if that wasn’t the best, I’ve did better before.” You humbly said, oblivious to the state you have put The Mandalorian under. Your voice knocked him out of his trance and out of shock, he shot up from his seat so quickly it startled you. His armour clanked against the table clumsily and his body grew stiff to keep himself steady. The bewilderment in your eyes lingered as you observed his tall body towering over you. You looked so petite next to his stature.

“Mando- Is everything okay?” You asked, a shiver running down your spine as your eyes trailed down his body. Only now did you realise how tense he was, noticing the fabric of his uniform clenching to his toned body. You could see how strong his arms were, your eyes darting from either side. If only you could just reach out and touch them, fall into his embrace. Your legs grew weak at the thought of being so close to him. Yearning for the proximity between you to come to a close.

The Mandalorian feared to move, until a sensation ran through his body like moments before. His face grew worrisome under his disguise and he slowly looked down. That is when he noticed the tent formed between his groins. A rush of fluster grew on his face and down his neck.

“I-I’m uh- I’m going to bed.” He called, rushing towards the door of his small chambers, leaving you dumbfounded by the dining area. His sudden goodbyes made you frown, and your head turned abruptly towards his door, only capturing the wisp of his cloak and the door closing shut. Suddenly a wave of anxiety flew over you, convinced that you offended him. As you were desperate to state an apology, still naive to his situation, you marched towards his chamber door.

The Mandalorian marched in panic up and down his small chamber. A situation like this has never happened in a long time, at least not in front of another individual. He unbuttoned his trouser bottoms in a panic, peaking the front of his boxers down to make sure the worst never happened. As he did so, he released his hardened cock as it popped out the removed fabric. Witnessing his erection made him sigh in frustration. He prayed that you would go off to your bunk and call it a night so he could deal with the matter. However, as you appeared in his mind once more, his erection pulsed and twitched and Mando let out a low moan from his lips.

“Mando- please open the door. I’m sorry if I offended you, it wasn’t my intention.” You called, loud enough in hopes he could hear your voice. You knocked gently on the door, getting a clank of metal in response. As the silence deafened you and left you impatient, you looked to the control panel and pressed all the buttons in hopes one opened the door. Once the metal door came flying open, you were greeted with The Mandalorian once more but in a position, you thought you would never see him in.

He stood there with his head flung back and his gloved hands stroking his member. Once he heard the door open, he flinched and attempted to hide his erection. It was already too late; you had seen what you needed to see. Your mouth lay gaped in shock, your hands grew tense beside you and a wave of embarrassment engulfed you. Mando began shaking his head, backing himself up against the wall, his massive, gloved hands guarding your eyes from his exposure.

“I’m sorry- I’m so sorry-” Mando kept repeating. “Why did you open the door? Why didn’t you knock?”

“I did knock!” You exclaimed, “I wouldn’t have opened the door if I knew you were doing that!”

“Okay, okay. I am really really sorry. Let’s just pretend this never happened!” Mando said, looking anywhere in the room that was not you. As your breath became heavy, the sight of The Mandalorian became your focus. He looked so vulnerable in that moment, seeing him in an act so sexual caused a wave of arousal upon you. You wondered; did I do that? Was your dancing so mesmerising to him that it excited him to this point? Is this why he left the room? My stars, you felt guilty for being so turned on in this moment.

Your feet began to take steps and approach him, your movement making him tense once more. He beckoned you to not get away closer, but you could not hear his words. You were drawn to his arms again, the ones that looked so defined-- even under his clothes. This time, you had the courage to touch them.

The Mandalorian fell short at protesting against you. He observed your small, soft hands gliding against his arms. Your touch bewitched him, making him bite his lip to contain noises of pleasure. Your eyes drew up to his gaze, his helmet blocking the intimacy. He was so mysterious, the thought of whatever facial features being under that helmet creating a sense of sensual excitement within. As your eyes left his gaze and looked downward to his hardened cock, you felt the burning sensation muster in between your legs.

“Won’t you need help with that?” You asked, the glint in your eyes growing promiscuous as you looked back up into his gaze. The Mandalorian was shocked, even if you were probably an expert in all things sexual matter. As much as he tried to protest his thoughts, he could not help making an image within his head of your lips wrapped around his cock.

“Are you sure that is a good idea?” He asked, a hint of taunting in his voice. A smirk came upon your face and you shrugged your shoulders, your hands trailing up his arms, across his shoulders and slowly down his chest.

“I’m willing to do it if you want me to.” You beckoned. Not only were you willing, but you were also begging. The dirty thoughts running through your mind became fuel for your desire. Imagining his large cock pressed into your mouth, blocking your throat; his fingers entangled in your hair. As the Mandalorian gazed down at you, he gave a sign of approval by nodding his head timidly.

Instinct caved in and you began lowering yourself to your knees, your hands trailing down his abdomen. Slowly, Mando shifted his hands away from his cock, the release of pressure causing his member to spring up once more. Your eyes fixated on his length, gulping back excess saliva as you wondered if you could take his length without feeling any pain. You bit your bottom lip in thought, looking up towards Mando for reassurance. You observed him slipping off his gloves to reveal the skin of his hands. His olive-skinned tone becoming the first exposure to you. His fingers crawled under your chin, cusping your face, admiring the position you were in. Stars, you were so beautiful.

Your fingers curved over his cock, your sudden touch letting a shuddered moan escape The Mandolorian’s mouth. His free hand pressed against the wall to keep himself balanced, the other one continuing to cradle your face as your hand began to move up and down his cock, peeling back the foreskin to reveal the tip of his cock lubbed with precum. You caught the precum that fell underneath with your tongue and entered the head of his cock into your mouth, wanting every ounce of his seed in your mouth. The Mandalorian let out a ragged moan, the feeling of your warm saturated mouth upon his member sending shoots of fulfilment up his body. His strong hand motioned along your jawline and his fingers combed through your hair, resting at the nip of your neck. You began to close your eyes in satisfaction and slowly easing his cock into your mouth, every inch deeper causing him to tighten his grip on your hair. As you opened your eyes The Mandalorian could not help but notice the lust in your eyes, your stare becoming vacant. Your left hand guided itself upwards to his abdomen as the other had a grasp on his thigh, your fingers massaging into the fabric of his clothes. The softness of your touch soothed The Mandalorian into submission, his hips slowly bucking towards your face as he longed for the feeling of your warm tongue running along his shaft. Feeling his desire, you closed your eyes once more to indulge more into his length, cockwarming him as your nose reached near his lower stomach and stayed in place. A gasp left Mando’s mouth, his other hand reaching towards your face as he gained more grip of you, holding your head in place to have his cock bathe more into your warmth. When he heard a light choke conjure up your throat, he quickly released his cock from your mouth to give you access to air. The sudden release made him look down to admire your face, clocking the string of spit connecting the tip of his cock to your bottom lip. My stars, that image was now burned into his mind and sending his instincts into overdrive.

“What name should I moan while you pleasure me, Mandalorian?” You asked, your voice airy and deep with lust. You motion your hand to his cock once more and pleasured him. The Mandalorian hesitated, still drunk with your touch, his mind becoming cloudy and unresponsive.

“Din -- my name is Din.” He managed to conjure up. This new information was so subtle, but you cherished it. Having his name roll off your tongue while feeling extreme waves of pleasure, the thought of it gave nurture to your pulsing heat.

“Nice to meet you -- Din.” You hummed. Vocalizing his name made his breaths much heavier, the sound of your soft tones interwoven into his name giving him even more ideas of what he could do to you. As primitive instincts commenced, you suddenly felt his strong arm wrap around your waist and lift you off your knees. He held you at such a great height that you were able to wrap your legs around him, your arms clasping around his neck for support. Din suddenly pressed you against the wall and held you in place, his hands grasping onto the back of your thighs. He now had the high ground, lifting you as if you were as light as a feather. The tip of his cock was perfectly aligned at your entrance, feeling the friction between you as he grinded his hips towards you. Your skimpy underwear was soaked with arousal. In all your years of sex work have you never been as titillated as you were now. No credits in all the galaxy could satisfy you as this moment did. Your legs wrapped tighter around Din as you beckoned his body closer to yours, your hips grinding against him -- begging for his cock. You noticed Din’s fingers inching closer to your heat, his fingers shifting your underwear to one side and exposing your swollen clit and dripping walls. Then, his fingers nudged at your entrance. His sudden cold touch made you gasp for air and cling tighter to him, your head pressing back onto the wall. Din rested his bulky helmet onto your shoulder as he motioned his fingers towards your clit, drawing light circles around. The stimulated sensation shot up your stomach, your legs lightly quivering. The tip of his cock still poked at your entrance in a teasing manner, and you could not help but grind against Din’s touch.

“Oh my God . . . Din.” The sound of you gasping his name sent tingles down his back, encouraging his fingers to put more pressure onto your sensitive clit, his moves hitting all the right spots. The sensation began building within you, convincing you were near your climax. “Don’t stop, don’t stop.” Your words encouraged, sending Din’s actions into overdrive as he pinned you closer to the wall and his body. His rhythm picked up pace and low grunts escaped his mouth. As he your legs secured around him, he let his free hand grasp onto your breast. His touch stimulated you further, a giggle leaving your lips at the sheer pleasure.

Suddenly your climax began, and an uncontrollable moan escaped from you, your legs turning to mush as you clung onto his body. Din admired your reaction, seeing your eyes turn vacant, his fingers roaming your vulva before taking his hands to hold your delicate thighs, sensing you grow weak from overstimulation. Your eyes trailed across him, leaning your forehead on the cold shine of his Baskar helmet. A subtle smirk drew across Din’s face as he exalted your complexion, noticing an ardour glow come upon your face.

It did not end there. At this point, Din felt edged on. Basking in your presence, he also bucked his hips closer to you. One hand clasped your warm cheek softly, a sense of gentleness soothing you into submission. You could sense his eyes staring at yours and at the intimacy, you had a sudden urge to kiss him. However, you knew there was no type of charming in the galaxy that would convince him to remove it. Until you got an idea.

“If I promise to close my eyes, will you kiss me?” You asked through heavy breaths, your fingers resting either side of his neck. Din thought of your offer, hesitating for a while. No living being should be able to see his face, not even in the heat of desire. Yet, if you close your eyes like promised, his oath would technically not be broken. Even if he just lifted the helmet up a little bit . . .

“You promise?” Din asked, grasping onto both your hands, interlinking his fingers into yours. You vigorously nodded your head, a smile on your face.

“I swear by all the stars in the galaxy.” You promised, pressing a little kiss on the tips of his fingers. You began to close your eyes shut, giving Din the clear to proceed and guide you to his lips.

Din slowly raised his helmet to expose his lips, guiding your legs to fall to the ground. Your feet landed on the floor, hands grasping his shoulders for stability. You never opened your eyes, keeping your word. Din slowly leaned down, pressing his lips against yours. The surprise to his touch inched you closer into him, deepening the kiss. Hesitantly, your fingers reached up to the nip of his neck and played with his hair. Din stiffed up, but softened just was quickly, tasting the flavour of his cock in your mouth. He grabbed your ass and you moaned into his lips. Your hands then reached back down his cock, stroking his member that was still hard as before. A growl left Din’s mouth, vibrating against your lips and he leaned off the kiss. Quickly dropping his helmet back into place, he lifted you back into his arms. The sudden movement made you flash open your eyes, noticing the helmet back on and Din carrying you to his bed.

As the bunker bed was too small for the both of you, Din took your hands and placed them on the bar between the two bunk beds. Keeping you in place, he began to expose your backside by rapidly pulling off your dress and underwear. Din’s sudden dominant actions formed a flutter in your mind, putting your thoughts into what was to come. My Stars, you wanted him to fuck you hard. So hard that it knocks all common sense out of your brain. The sudden fleeting shift of how he handled you said so.

That is when he began to enter your cunt, stretching your walls as they tightly pressed back against his cock. The feeling of him filled you up instantly, a light whimper fleeing your mouth as you handled his length. Din had a similar reaction, his grip tightening on your waist as he felt drowned by the feeling of your insides. The tightness of your cunt encouraged him to get into motion, pumping his cock out and back inside.

“Din -- fuck me.” You breathed out, your grip tightening around the bars. You prompted one leg up onto the edge of the bed, so he had more gateway into you, which aided his full length to fill your pussy. Din leaned forward, pressing his stomach into your lower back so the entirety of his cock was inside you. In measurement, you knew that once he started moving, he was big enough to hit your g-spot without a doubt. Excitement engulfed your senses, and you began to beckon him.

“Fuck me, Din -- fuck me hard.” You granted permission. His name mixed into your vulgar language made him flustered from arousal but smirk mischievously.

“You don’t have to tell me twice.” He groaned into your ear. And with that, Din did not hesitate to begin fucking you. Just like you wanted it, hard. His unrefined thrusts in and out of you sent your thoughts into hyperdrive. Your vision unfocused, basking in the pleasure. Just like you anticipated, the tip of Din’s cock knocked your G-spot with every thrust. Din watched as your ass jiggled from the friction, encouraging his hand to fall and smack against your backside. You gasped at the pinch of pleasure, biting your lip hard to contain yourself from screaming. Din detected your muffled sounds and was displeased. He wanted to hear you from for him. Beg for more. Say his name and plead for more pleasure. So, his hand gripped the front of your neck and seized you back, pressing your body against his. His thrust never stopping.

“Fucking beg for it.” Din demanded, “Tell me how much you want this.” He did not know what came over him in this moment, and you did not either. But you would be lying if you said you did not like this side of him.

“I- I want this so bad, Din. I need you to fuck me like this.” You choked up, feeling intoxicated as his grip around your neck lightly tightened.

“You want me to fill you with my cum, huh? Or should I cum all over your pretty little face?” Din taunted, another hand crashing down against your ass cheek which made you whimper again.

“Oh God -- come inside me. Please.” You begged, tears collecting in the corners of your eyes as all your feelings conjoined into one overall feeling of complete smut. Your mind felt like a mess, like you could pass out from enjoyment. Never in all your life of service have you felt so much pleasure.

When Din’s primitive instincts deemed you pleads redeemable, his thrusts became faster as he felt his climax coming. The sound of his skins slapping against yours became a dominant sound in the room. He still held your body close to his, his hands roaming over your body, gripping your breasts, smacking your ass, wrapping his fingers around the small of your waist. God, the way he held you was stimulating enough, every touch completely possessive of your body. Din was engrossed in the shape of you, how every inch of your body fit perfectly against him. How tight your walls clenched around his cock, enchanting him to fuck you harder with each thrust.

“I’m gonna come.” Din exclaimed, “I’m gonna cum in your pretty little cunt. Got it?”

His words excited you. “Yes -- please fill me with your cum. Please, please, please.”

Din could not hold it any longer. When he felt his release, he held your hips in place and deepened his cock into you, letting your slit cockwarm him until his climax came to a close. His body collapsed onto yours, causing him to shift your body on top and sit on the edge of the bunk, placing you gently on his lap. You rested your exhausted head on his shoulder, a smile of approval appearing on your face. Din wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you into a gentle embrace.

“Um -- Sorry I was so rough. I dunno what came over me.” Din apologised, his tone a little bashful.

“Don’t apologise. I’m sorry I enjoyed it so much.” You teasingly said, reaching your hand under his helmet to cusp his scruffy jawline. Din leaned into your touch, pressing a small kiss on your thumb.

“Now’s a good time for you to change into those clothes, huh?” Din light-heartedly said, causing you to chuckle and playfully nudge his side.

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tripleaxeldiaz · 3 years

Text

you’re my living proof my love is alive

for @eddiediaz HAPPY BIRTHDAY MAY <33

read on ao3

“Did you ever think we’d get here?”

Eddie opens his eyes, the shade of the tree they’re under saving him from an assault of sunlight. He’d been dozing off and on, lulled by the warm day and the soft breeze and Buck’s fingers raking through his hair where his head rested on his lap. But something about Buck’s voice — not a sadness, not an edge, but something — wakes him up fully, and he rolls onto his back to look up at Buck’s face. He follows where Buck’s eyes have landed — on their family, spread out around them, absorbed in their own conversations while kids flit in and around them like over excited butterflies. He’s looking at them wistfully and in some sort of awe, and Eddie waits for him to elaborate.

“To the park?” he asks slowly when it looks like an explanation isn’t coming. “It’s like a 10 minute drive from our house.”

Buck tugs his ear, fighting and losing to the smile spreading on his face. “No, asshole. I mean all of this. Our family. You and me. Did you ever imagine we’d get a life like this?”

The breeze seems to blow a little cooler as Eddie takes that in, because honestly? No. All of this, the joy that he’s found here, is brighter and better than anything he ever let himself dream about.

And it’s not that he never thought he’d be happy or filled with some kind of lightness. It just wasn’t a priority — not when he had a team to lead or a marriage to try and fail to fix or a kid to take care of on his own. Everything and everyone else came first because those were things he could handle, tangible things with some kind of concrete solutions, the direct opposite of the amorphous, unreachable discomfort that always seemed to sit right at the base of his skull. And there were moments of joy, especially with Christopher — his smile, his laugh, the way he lit up at any opportunity to learn something new. Those were good moments, great moments, and Eddie treasured all of them, locking them up tight in his heart because they were sometimes the only things that got him through the day.

But still. No matter what, at the end of the day, he’d find himself in bed, surrounded by silence, fighting off the aching loneliness that grew stronger as the sun went down. Only then would he let himself indulge — he’d imagine a dip in the mattress next to him, warm skin begging for his touch, craving that feeling of being wanted by someone else despite the demons and nightmares that still haunted him.

He doesn’t really know if it made the loneliness better or worse.

Moving to LA helped — a fresh start for both of them, more opportunities, no one hovering over his every move waiting to swoop in the minute he made a mistake. He felt lighter, excited even, like maybe now things would actually turn around for him, like maybe he was ready to fill that space that sat in his heart. Maybe Shannon coming back was a sign that she was supposed to fill it the whole time, just like he thought when they were 19.

But then she left, permanently, just as quickly as she came, and suddenly he wasn’t sure of anything his heart or soul was telling him anymore.

So he threw himself back into what he knew best — being there for everyone else. Whether at work or with Chris, his focus was solely on the outside, ignoring any pangs of longing or indulgences because they didn’t matter. A person could only survive so many broken hearts in their lives, and he’s certain that watching the life fade out of Shannon’s eyes with no way of stopping it was the last one he’d be able to handle. It wasn’t a waste, this focusing on other people, and he wasn’t unhappy — how could he be when he had the best kid, the best friend, the best family that he’d cobbled together for himself, that had saved him time and again without even knowing it?

The loneliness lingered, though. It wrestled with the fear he felt so hard sometimes it blew the breath right out of his lungs. He thought he did an okay job of hiding it until Bobby sat him down and told him it was okay to move on, that it was okay to want to let someone in, to not carry the burdens on his own anymore. And he knew that, rationally, but that wasn’t the problem.

The problem was that in the moments when his resolve cracked, his indulgences were no longer faceless. They had broad shoulders and strong arms, a halo of curls and eyes so blue they put the ocean to shame.

The problem was that this person was real and solid, an unshakeable presence in his and Chris’ world who smoothed out creases and stitched up tears in a way that was helpful, not in a way that made Eddie feel guilty for letting things get creased in the first place.

The problem was that the person his stupid, lonely heart had let in, without his consent, without him even noticing, was the person he knew would shatter his heart into a billion, unrepairable pieces if he ever lost him.

So he settled instead.

He found someone who was nice and low maintenance and good with Chris and it was enough. Or almost enough. Or as close to enough as he felt he deserved.

He feels another tug at his ear. “Did I lose you? Pretty sure your eyes just glazed over for like two minutes.”

Nothing he does gets past Buck, that’s for sure, and the knowledge of that warms him better than the sunshine. He reaches up and threads their fingers together, kissing the back of Buck’s hand before resting both on his chest, over his heart. He sighs, eyes slipping closed again. “Sorry. Zoned out for a second.”

“And forgot my question,” Buck says, squeezing his hand. “So did you? Imagine this? Or something like it, I guess.”

He’s better with words than he used to be, can be straightforward with his feelings without breaking out into a cold sweat. But still, these words stick, because years and countless therapy sessions later, he knows exactly how deep the darkness went back then, and he hates thinking about it. Hates remembering the full body ache of loneliness, how dull and bleak it made everything seem.

But also, he can’t — won’t — lie to Buck, and he’s warm enough now, surrounded by sunlight and laughter and Buck’s hand on his chest, that he’s not worried about being pulled under again.

“No,” he finally says. “I didn’t let myself think about anything like this for a really long time. But when I finally did, it was never as good as the real thing.”

Buck hums but doesn’t say anything else. He traces carefully over Eddie’s knuckles and the back of his hand, and Eddie almost falls asleep again.

“What changed your mind?” Eddie opens his eyes and Buck’s looking down at him now, an intense curiosity in his eyes, like he was just cycling through everything he knows about Eddie trying to figure out what made him believe in love again.

Knowing Buck, he probably was.

Eddie’s happy to save him the trouble. “I got shot,” he says simply, and Buck’s hand finally stills. Eddie reaches up, cupping Buck’s cheek, relishing in the way he automatically leans into his palm.

“I got shot,” he says again, “and you saved me, in every way you possibly could.”

It’s true — it wasn’t the first time a bullet had found a path through him, or even the first time he’d seen his life flash before his eyes. But as he lay there in the street, hot asphalt underneath him, weaker by the second, the only things running through his head were Chris and Buck and ChrisandBuck, and his only regret was that Buck didn’t know — about his guardianship of Chris, about how he made Eddie feel something like hopeful for the first time in years, any of it.

As his vision blacked out, Buck’s face streaked with blood and panic was the last thing he saw, and he vowed to make sure Buck knew everything if he made it out of this.

Of course, nothing is ever that easy.

After he woke up, with Buck’s name on his lips but Ana’s hand in his, everything became a waiting game.

He waited for Buck to show up at the hospital, out of breath but still so dazzling, his very presence making Eddie feel like he could run a marathon right then.

He waited for them to finally be alone so they could talk, but only got through telling him about the guardianship before Buck got a text from Taylor that made him smile so softly the rest of Eddie’s speech died in his throat.

He waited to break it off with Ana long enough that he didn’t seem like a jackass, waited as Buck and Taylor flew higher and higher before crashing, waited for days and weeks and months, waited, waited, waited.

But it didn’t hurt. All that time, it wasn’t excruciating, it didn't feel like a waste, because he knew from the minute he woke up that he was waiting for something. He could feel the anticipation burning up inside him, and it wasn’t going to be for nothing this time.

Finally, finally, just as naturally as they had fallen into each other’s lives the first time, they fell together again — in the dim light of Eddie’s kitchen, empty beer bottles and raw, unfiltered words between them, reliving the day they hadn’t been able to talk to each other about for the past nine months. Eddie’s hands shook and Buck took them in his and Eddie knew this was his moment.

He looked Buck dead in the eye and said, “You’re the reason I’m sitting here right now, and I’m in love with you.”

The evening air crackled in the silence, and neither of them moved. Eddie was pretty sure even his blood had stopped flowing as he waited, until suddenly everything snapped.

Suddenly they were both leaning in, suddenly they were kissing and whispering I love yous soft and desperate across each other’s skin.

Suddenly everything began.

He shakes his head a bit as he comes back to the present. Buck doesn’t say anything this time, just smiles and kisses the center of Eddie’s palm where it’s still resting on his cheek, tangles their fingers together again before placing them back on Eddie’s chest.

“You saved me too, you know,” Buck says quietly. “I wasn’t the one who got shot, but still, you did. You always do.”

“Always will,” Eddie says, because it’s true, and the easiest promise he’s ever made. Buck is his hope, his light in the dark, every other cheesy cliche, and Eddie will work for the rest of his life to make sure Buck feels safe and loved. It’s the least he could do for all that Buck has given him.

They lapse back into quiet, enjoying the sounds of the park and their family, and Eddie feels something he's been too afraid to name until now, a holdout from years of guarding himself.

He’s happy. Truly, with no caveats or strings attached, unbelievably happy.

#buddie #evan buckley #eddie diaz #911 fox #buddie fic #911 fic #9-1-1 #IT'S MY WIFE'S BDAY ALL THE EDDIE EMOTIONS FOR HER #ficcery

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